Larry Lucchino, Boss and . . . Matchmaker?
My favorite Larry Lucchino story begins, of course, with him yelling at me. I had just begun dating this girl and during one of my many car rides with LL, I had told him about her and how she really wanted to see the band Barenaked Ladies, at Mohegan Sun Arena. I was debating whether it was too soon to take her.
Cue to about three days later: I’m standing near the front desk of the Red Sox front office, where I work, when I hear a voice coming down the hall from executive row: “JARED, GET YOUR ASS IN MY OFFICE NOW.” That pitch and tone were reserved only for me, I’m pretty sure.
Assuming I had messed up a sandwich, driven him to the wrong address, was about to drive him to the wrong address, or a host of other whoknows-what, I shuffled forward, sweating out of pores I didn’t know existed, already mentally preparing my résumé, lamenting what could’ve been, into his office.
On the desk in front of LL were four tickets to the Barenaked Ladies at Mohegan Sun. I don’t remember what he said, or the look he gave me, but I’ll never forget the feeling I had right then, that I would drive that guy anywhere, pick him up a sandwich from Timbuktu, defend his honor in front of any Yankees executive, whatever he needed.
I spent almost 20 years with the Boston Red Sox and met many impressive, important people. Of everyone I’ve ever encountered — staff, players, fans, whoever — no one else had the same effect on me as Larry Lucchino. He was the first famous person I ever worked for. His influence on me from my years as a newb to my veteran status, when I got a glove thanking me for my years of service, will stick with me for the rest of my life.
The time I spent with him, just us, driving from meeting to meeting, dinner to dinner, interview to interview, shaped my growing-up stage. The wisdom he could impart in between questioning me for the 500th time—why take
Storrow Drive outbound to the Pike to get to the airport when it means clearly passing Fenway again (one of my driving tricks he later conceded saved us loads of time) — could only have come from a leader. That he could have so much trust in me, and confide about not just the team but also his life, created a “circle of trust” confidence that made me feel like I was holding the secrets of the universe.
He also had a sarcastic bite limited to a certain circle of people he thought could handle it . . . and give it back. And damn right I could give it back!
Unfortunately, I didn’t truly appreciate all those opportunities at the time, and he was never one to hit you over the head with Hey, jerk, I’m teaching you something. I was just a kid who was always trying to look three steps ahead, yet needed blinders to realize those steps were coming from what I was doing right then with the absolute perfect mentor, and guess what, they needed to be tackled one at a time. Looking back now, I realize he was always preparing me for something so much bigger, so much better. Not Theo Epstein-type preparation — he wasn’t exactly having me pick out lineups or sign free agents — but I believe, on reflection, there was really something “big” he saw in me. If only I’d seen it in myself.
I always meant to tell him that, to just say thank you — for the lessons, for the gifts he granted me, for all the time he spent with me. Thank you for seeing something in me even if I couldn’t, not then.
And thank you for the Barenaked Ladies tickets. My date, now my wife, and I really enjoyed it.
Larry passed away April 2, and I never got to say it. His loss really hurts. I lost an old boss, a friend, a mentor.
Thank you, LL, just . . . thank you.