Andy Jick: 1952-2019

CHESTNUT HILL, Mass. -- The media room before any sporting event is the best. It's loud and crowded but retains an intimacy for the assorted group of people having some food or engaging in casual conversation. It's my personal favorite part because it provides a relaxed atmosphere before everyone dials into their professional tasks for the day.

My most recent media room experience came during the ACC Women's Lacrosse Championship. I walked in and gave the room my customary scan, only to gravitate immediately to our public address announcer, Andy Jick. He greeted me with a warm smile, and we caught up about how Passover was ending. I hadn't seen him since basketball ended, so it gave me that good, warm feeling to simply talk to him.

This one talk, though, tinged a little differently because I asked Andy about John Havlicek. Hondo died the day before the semifinal round, and I wanted to ask him about his memories. The conversation eventually pivoted to the lacrosse game, and we said our goodbyes as he went to set up in his announcer's booth.

The basics of the interaction is one of countless talks with him through the years. We would talk for a little while before I let him go about his business. Those stories play an intricate part in why I love the media room so much. They always make me smile, which is why they have an undeniable sadness following Andy's passing on May 3.

"We all met Andy because of his voice at our games," baseball head coach Mike Gambino said. "That's only a small part of it, though. He added so much to whatever sporting events he was working, and having the voice of the Boston Celtics come over to Boston College was so great. But that's such a small percentage of the story. Hearing his voice do our PA made us happy because of how much Andy made us happy. Every time you heard his voice made you feel good because every time you saw him or said hi to him, Andy just made you feel good. "

Andy arrived at Boston College as the basketball public address announcer in 2001. He was already a legend for having announced the Larry Bird era of the Boston Celtics, but his arrival coincided with one of the most electric eras in BC hardwood history. Almost immediately, he helped transform Conte Forum, making it feel like the old Boston Garden on game day.

It provided the cornerstone for the next 18 years of his career. He remained a fixture at basketball games but expanded his role throughout the Boston College athletics fabric. He became the arena voice for countless other sports, including hockey, lacrosse and baseball. He provided the game day soundboard for hundreds of athletes, even expanding off the mic as a clock operator for the football program.

It wove him into the culture of the Eagles. He became, in many ways, ours at BC. Every game had his fingerprints on it because he remained true to his style as a throwback. He treated everyone fairly and understood how to do right by all competitors. He took the time to learn names and get pronunciations correct, but he still presented games in a way that gave BC a distinct home advantage. Today's industry can sometimes become a bragging contest built by YouTube clips or highlight reels, but Andy remained a stalwart because he always respected the game and all of its participants.

"Andy always liked to read newspapers," coworker and friend Matt Giantassio said. "When he gave me a stack of newspapers, in between the sections, he had left his lineup sheets. He wrote everyone's name in the way it was supposed to be pronounced, and he would always go to staff before the game to make sure he knew how to say everyone's name.

"He used to say that someone's parents or family would be in the stands, and that made it important for him to get it right for all of them."

He saw and lived some of the best history in Boston sports, and he created an undeniable atmosphere at Boston College. Those moments, though, somehow never defined him. He cared far more deeply about his relationships beyond the court or the field, to the point where he developed real friendships and connections with the athletes he announced. He was entirely selfless, which made everything about him that much more special.

"We always wanted him more and more, as much as we could have him," women's hockey head coach Katie Crowley said of herself and associate head coach Courtney Kennedy. "He would always have a fist bump for Court, and we would always hi to him because we would walk right by him as we got to our bench. He always made you feel comfortable, and he was always so supportive of our team. To have that every time you're on the bench is something that's special. I don't know that you get that with everyone who is behind the microphone."

He remembered everyone's name and always had time for conversation. He had a definitive presence, even if he wasn't loud or gregarious. He was warm and inviting with an attitude developed by how he maintained relationships with coaches, players and staff members. He helped make events feel like family reunions because of how genuine he could be.

"The start of a game is always important, and it was meaningful to have someone who cared for us and followed us and believed in us," former women's basketball player Stefanie Murphy said. "It really set off the tone every day. He was always good for a hug after games, and when I came back (as a graduate assistant), I continued that tradition. He cared, and we wanted to show him how much we cared in return. I would ask how he was doing, and he would ask me instead how I was doing and how my family was doing."

"Andy would 'hide in plain sight,'" Giantassio said. "He wanted his work to be known but not for himself. It was a pleasure to work alongside him because of his professionalism at the way he did his job, but he was truly a person who you could meet and he was just the nicest person. He was always willing to work with everyone and help anyone. It was always about the game and never about him."

"Regardless of what kind of day you were having, he always seemed so happy," former basketball player Sean Marshall said. "It would rub off on you, if you were having a bad day. I would see him every summer with the team that I put together with TBT (The Basketball Tournament), and he announced those games. When we made it to the finals, I just remember seeing him as a grown man with a family. He remembered when I was 18 years old (at BC), and he told me how proud of me and the man that I grew into. There are so few people who had seen me grow over that amount of time, so for him to say that to me, it meant a lot to me."

I replayed that ACC Lacrosse Championship plenty of times over the last week because Andy's passing has something of a sad irony to it. It offers perspective of how quickly time passes, even if it felt totally frozen after hearing the news. I cherish the memories of sitting with him and former BC Birdball media contact Zanna Ollove during the 2016 baseball season, or sitting at a table under Conte Forum before a basketball game. I won't forget meeting up during the NCAA Lacrosse Championships. I just wish I had one more.

I found out about Andy's passing while I was on vacation. When I got home, I dropped my bag and realized I left a media pass from the ACC Women's Lacrosse Championships on an end table. It would have been totally innocuous, and I ordinarily would have just filed that media pass into a scrapbook or drawer that I keep.

That pass still hasn't gone in the book, and I don't think it ever will. Goodbye, my friend. Chestnut Hill can never be the same without you.

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