Toronto was never prepared for this moment.
After radio legend Buck Martinez officially announced his retirement, the entire Blue Jays community is still reeling from the loss. But then, new information shared by Martinez himself has deepened that emotion more than ever — the private moment behind his decision to leave broadcasting.
“He cried so much when he had to say goodbye to everyone,” Martinez revealed, his voice choked with emotion. “Those weren’t tears of weakness, but tears of love.”
For decades, Toronto Blue Jays fans have been familiar with Buck Martinez’s calm, composed, and steady demeanor. Whether in explosive victories or bitter defeats, his voice always maintained its composure — an emotional anchor for millions.
But behind the microphone, Buck was also a human being.

And when the decision to leave Sportsnet was made, Martinez admitted that he couldn’t maintain his usual composure. Saying goodbye to colleagues, technicians, players, and fans brought about emotions he’d never experienced before.
It wasn’t a formal ceremony.
It was a very human farewell.
One of the biggest misconceptions surrounding Buck Martinez’s retirement is that people thought he’d “had enough.” But the truth is quite the opposite.
According to Martinez himself, the decision didn’t stem from fatigue with baseball, but from a deep appreciation for it.
“When you love something long enough,” he said, “you know when to step back so the memories remain intact.”
The tears of farewell weren’t from regret—but because he knew he was closing the most beautiful chapter of his life.
Buck Martinez was more than just a broadcaster for the Toronto Blue Jays. He was a living part of the team’s history.
He played for the Blue Jays for the last six seasons of his playing career (1981–1986).
He managed the team as a manager (2001–2002).
And then, he became an iconic voice on Sportsnet for decades.
Very few people in MLB can say they served a team with all their heart, in every possible role.
Therefore, when he said goodbye, Buck wasn’t just leaving the radio booth — he was leaving a part of himself.
What moved fans the most wasn’t the official announcement. It was the moments that followed.
Martinez revealed that Buck took the time to thank everyone individually — from his colleagues on air, the backstage crew, to those who rarely appeared on camera. And it was in those moments that he couldn’t hold back his tears.
“He always believed that no one succeeds alone,” Martinez said. “And he wanted people to know how much he valued them.”
For Canadian baseball, Buck Martinez was more than just an individual. He was an icon of excellence, of an understated yet profound storytelling in sports.
He taught fans how to understand the game, not just watch it.
He taught that baseball is a game of patience, of humanity, of kindness.
And now, as he leaves, Canada hasn’t lost everything. Because those values have been passed on.
Buck Martinez didn’t want to be remembered with a grand ceremony. He wanted to be remembered for simple moments—timely words, respectful silences, moments for the game to speak for itself.

And perhaps the truest image of him is the one revealed today:
a man who wept profusely as he said goodbye.
Not out of weakness.
Because he loved deeply enough.
Buck Martinez may have retired.
But he didn’t disappear.
He lives on in the memories of every summer in Toronto.
In the applause at Rogers Centre.
In the late nights fans turned on the TV just to “hear Buck talk about baseball.”
And from today, they know one more thing:
behind that steady voice was a heart that knew how to cry — because it loved too much.
That’s not the end.
It’s the most beautiful farewell a legend could leave.