David Lennon: There will never be another John Sterling

A few years back, thinking of a 70th birthday gift for my Uncle Tony, I asked John Sterling if he could record a personalized home run call for a huge Yankees fan.

Sterling, of course, happily obliged. Taking my iPhone, standing at the back of the press box, he bellowed his signature call, “It is high . . . it is far . . . it is gone!” before adding the stylized flourishes the Yankees broadcaster had made famous for more than three decades in the Bronx.

I was thrilled. Sterling, eyes wide and smiling throughout the delivery, maybe loved it even more. The unbridled joy in the booth? It was genuine, because John radiated that same aura everywhere he went, and the vibe carried over the airwaves, beamed to a loyal Yankees’ universe that couldn’t wait to hear what home run call he’d come up with next.

My two nephews, at an age when most would be watching Disney videos in the car’s backseat, wanted to listen to the Yankees’ game instead, mostly because they were captivated by Sterling’s dramatic expressions, from “An A-Bomb from A-Rod” to “Gardy goes yardy” to “Bern, baby, Bern — Bernie goes boom!”

Sure, we enjoyed listening to baseball. But who knew it could be this much fun? Sterling’s calls ranged from cleverly amusing to flat-out nuts, and no one else could do them. They were as unique as the man himself, and if you were connected to the Yankees in any way, Sterling’s unabashed fandom brought everyone together under the pinstripe Big Top, usually celebrating another victory, punctuated by his trademark, “Thuuuuuh Yankees win!”

“He’s family,” Hal Steinbrenner said Monday outside the Yankees’ clubhouse. “It’s tough, losing somebody that we respect and love and consider family. But it was a heck of a life.”

Hal’s sentiment was repeated often Monday in the Bronx, where Sterling — who passed that morning at the age of 87 — was celebrated equally with gracious laughter and mournful tears. The Yankees played a tribute video before his former radio partners, Michael Kay and Suzyn Waldman, carried bouquets of flowers and placed them on home plate. A moment of silence followed.

The Yankees also wore the initials ‘JS’ on the back of their caps for Monday night’s game against the Orioles. The Bleacher Creatures saluted Sterling by adding his name to the end of their nightly roll call, which drew loud applause from every section.

The ceremony was befitting a franchise icon, and Sterling was as much a part of the Yankees’ fabric as anyone who wore pinstripes. He was the narrator of five World Series titles, including the late 1990s dynastic run that included three straight championships, and called a total of 5,631 Yankees games.

Kay remembered a conversation between the two, early in his own writer-turned-broadcaster career, when John explained why he rooted for the Yankees.

“Michael, my boy,” Kay recalled him saying, “If the Yankees win a lot, then people will like us more, because we’re going to bring them good news.”

Sterling delivered that on an almost nightly basis, but putting his inimitable stamp on those Ws is what forged his legendary status. Amid Sterling’s bouts of lovable lunacy, his broadcasting pedigree could often get overlooked, and Waldman looked to set the record straight Monday in talking about her dear friend.

Waldman said Sterling got so emotional calling Derek Jeter’s 3,000th hit that he had tears streaming down his face, yet his melodic voice never broke stride with the captain’s jog around the bases. Though he struggled toward the end with his eyesight — prompting barbs from the media that stung him more than he let on — Sterling at his sharpest lived up to the champion performance he chronicled, season after season.

“It all came from his heart,” Waldman said. “It all came from his gut. The World Series in 1996, when they’re all on the pitcher’s mound [after the final out], it’s all from the heart — he didn’t have anything written down. That’s why people loved him. I know some didn’t, but fans did.”

And Sterling was performing for those fans, who appreciated (or allowed for) some Broadway show tunes to be sprinkled in with their game action. What other broadcaster has players lobbying for their own signature home-run shout-outs, either anxious to hear Sterling’s christening moment or bold enough to give him suggestions?

Aaron Judge came along at the perfect time to rejuvenate Sterling’s joie de vivre in his later years, a suitable baseball-mashing muse who was right in John’s wheelhouse, with a name already teed up. It was too easy — “All rise! Here comes the Judge!” But Sterling savored every syllable, and the jubilation never waned, no matter how often Judge went deep (which was a lot).

“He brought the New York theater to the ballpark, I think is the best way to describe it,” Judge said. “He brought such enthusiasm. He was almost a kid up there in the broadcast booth, talking about the game, him and Susan.”

Judge didn’t take long Monday to honor Sterling in the most appropriate fashion, swatting a first-inning homer that traveled 416 feet before landing in the Yankees’ bullpen. It was a true “Judge-ian blast” and there’s nothing that Sterling relished more than a Yankees home run, right along with everyone listening at the other end of his microphone.

He wouldn’t even tell Kay or Waldman before unveiling a new home run call. They found out the same time as the radio audience, which had spent the days leading up to it trying to figure the direction he’d go. But who could ever possibly guess, “Giancarlo, non si puo stoparlo!” for a Stanton dinger? To Sterling, that became half the fun.

He was fond of saying, “You can’t predict baseball, Suzyn.”

But we’re pretty certain there will never be another John Sterling.