Castiglione’s reedy voice was a thread that connected the years of anguish — including oh-so-close moments in 1986 and 2003 — and the parade-laden era that began after the ’04 team opened the World Series floodgates. Winning always felt sweeter with Joe on the call.

Now, Red Sox Nation is preparing for its first season in over four decades without Castiglione, after he retired in September. And baseball season in New England will never be the same.

On top of the World Series titles, he was there for many of the great moments in Sox history. Both of Roger Clemens’s 20-strikeout games, and four Red Sox no-hitters. Pedro Martinez’s back-to-back Cy Young Awards. Manny Ramirez’s and David Ortiz’s 500th home runs. MVP seasons for Clemens, Mo Vaughn, Dustin Pedroia, and Mookie Betts. He also fund-raised extensively for cancer research through the Jimmy Fund. And his familiar voice provided much needed comfort during broadcasts after the Boston Marathon bombing in 2013.

Joe’s radio call carried beyond the baseball diamond. When you watch a game on television, it’s the center of attention. Listening on the radio often accompanies other activities, a comforting hum in the background. Castiglione’s voice thrived there, as much a part of New England’s summer soundtrack as crickets at night, or the ice cream truck jingling down the block. He was there during backyard barbecues, card games on the porch, road trips in the family station wagon.

For me, he was a lifeline back to New England. After college, I moved out West to Los Angeles for a job. Alone in a foreign land with no rain, no seasons, no Dunkin’ Donuts. But thanks to MLB.TV, which allows you to stream your hometown television and radio broadcasts anywhere in the country, I had the Red Sox and Joe to keep me company.

And when the Sox were in the playoffs, I’d make sure to marry Joe’s radio call with the TV broadcast, turning the volume down on the national announcers in favor of the local angle.

So he was with me during the Sox’s record-setting World Series run in 2018, including Game 5 of the ALCS against the Astros when he so memorably toppled out of his chair in excitement as the Sox won a nail biter, on a game-saving diving catch from left fielder Andrew Benintendi. “Did he make the catch? He did! He got it!”

But he was also with me for all of the losses, the years spent in last place. Because beyond the dramatic wins, his greatness in the booth was as much about the ho-hum games, the quotidian moments when it felt like you were just hanging out with him as he told you a story about a ballgame.

He welcomed the listener into the booth with his warm demeanor. The players felt more relatable when he discussed them on the broadcast. Even Big Papi — one of the biggest stars in baseball — was simply “David” to Joe. He’d tell listeners about players’ personal lives, or ordinary conversations they’d had in the clubhouse or during batting practice. They felt like guys that he knew, who you were also hanging out with.

Around the same time that I moved back East, Castiglione announced his retirement. Like so many in Red Sox Nation, I felt a deep sense of loss, but I will always be grateful to him for helping me get through my years of exile on the West Coast.

Joe went out with a bang, taking home the prestigious Ford C. Frick Award for broadcasting bestowed by the National Baseball Hall of Fame. It was a fitting tribute to a lifetime of sharing the joy of the game with his faithful following.

This spring, Sox fans have reasons to be excited. Newly acquired All-Stars Garrett Crochet and Alex Bregman. A young trio of uber-talented prospects in Roman Anthony, Kristian Campbell, and Marcelo Mayer. The return of Rafael Devers and Jarren Duran. I’m even looking forward to Will Flemming taking over as the voice of the Red Sox — he’s terrific in his own right.

But I’ll miss Joe. I think we all will.