We. Are. Not. Worthy.

That was Rick Jeanneret’s classic reaction from behind his microphone to an incredible blocker save by Dominik Hasek off Philadelphia’s Trent Klatt during a 1998 playoff game in then-Marine Midland Arena.

That’s our reaction today, too.

The golden voice of the Sabres – that one-of-a-kind, high-pitched masterpiece that we marveled at every game night – has been silenced. But it will never fade from our hearts and minds.

The man we all referred to as “RJ” is gone at age 81, a glorious treasure of Buffalo sports history who can never be replaced. Just like Ted Darling and Van Miller before him.

It seemed as if Jeanneret always had the right words for the big moments. It’s tough to put together words for this moment we all hoped would never come.

Just think of the “MayDay” goal vs. Boston in the 1993 playoffs. Where in the world does that call come from? For a game-winner by a guy who hadn’t scored in nearly two months?

“I hadn’t had a chance to formulate my thoughts,” Jeanneret told me in 2018 as I wrote about the goal’s 25th anniversary. “You couldn’t plan on that. We were all so happy the Sabres won and you start thinking about the next round and then the next morning I started getting calls about it. Today, obviously it would have gotten around a lot quicker, almost instantly.”

The goal was the biggest highlight of May’s career until he won the Stanley Cup with Anaheim in 2007. Jeanneret’s call, however, was life-changing. May became “MayDay” to his teammates and then his colleagues when he became a broadcaster. So did his son and nephew.

Every year to promote the playoffs, that goal and that call are on NHL commercials and video montages. When Jeanneret went into the Hall of Fame’s broadcast wing in 2012, what was front and center?

“They played that call when he was introduced to the crowd,” May told me in 2018. “That call, his voice. If I never have a chance to get in the Hockey Hall of Fame, my name is tied with Rick Jeanneret, who is a Hall of Famer.”

There were some incredible goals over time and many in overtime. They’re remembered mostly by RJ’s calls.

You know them. MayDay. Rene Robert in 1973 in Montreal and in 1975 vs. Philadelphia in the Fog Game. Dave Hannan in the fourth OT vs. New Jersey in ‘94. Jason Woolley’s “shot heard ‘round the world” in Game 1 of the ‘99 Cup final in Dallas. Danny Briere-Danny Briere-Danny Briere in the second OT vs. Philadelphia in 2006 and vs. Carolina in Game 6 later that spring.

Will we ever forget Maxim Afinogenov vs. the Rangers in ‘07 (right after – who else? who else? – Chris Drury tied it with 7.7 seconds to go). Or Jason Pominville short-handed in Ottawa in 2006? Of course not. Now do you believe? Now do you believe? It’s the question we’re asking every day about the Sabres going into this season, too.

Rick Jeanneret and Dale Hawerchuk with their Hall of Fane swords as they are inducted into the Sabres Hall of Fame on Nov. 8, 2011.

It’s a shame the Sabres never got Jeanneret another playoff call after 2011. But I know how optimistic he’s been the last two years. He felt good times coming again. They were hard for him in some of these recent seasons, both personally and professionally.

During a game a few years ago, I ran into Jeanneret in the press box hallway at KeyBank Center and he didn’t look right. Kind of scowling. I asked him if he was OK and he leaned against the wall and said solemnly, “Sometimes, this gets tough. I just can’t hit the ‘high notes’ anymore.”

The man was in his late 70s and had dealt with Stage 3 throat cancer in 2014. Sure, his voice wasn’t what it was in, say, 1997 or 2006. Age always wins. RJ could not stay at that pitch – and that volume – forever. But that’s OK. The passion was still there. The thrill of the competition, and the ability to paint the pictures with his words, were still there.

He soldiered on, all the way to that final overtime goal scored by Casey Mittelstadt 16 months ago in his final game after 51 years.

The travel got tough for Jeanneret as he got older. Sure, they’re charter flights and elite hotels, but it’s still travel that’s often late at night. But once he got to the rink, Jeanneret was on.

The press dining rooms at rinks across North America were a sight to behold, as Jeanneret ate his dinner with his traveling broadcast crew. I was often at those tables and you would see how the host team’s broadcasters would gravitate to RJ for some conversation, some tidbits and some needling.

They should have been charging me admission to those meals over the cost of my food for the laughs and the barbs that were flying.

If you want one what-was-it-like item, I can report RJ could never pass up a good sundae bar. And that’s even in the dead of winter. Kudos to the good folks in Carolina, who always had a big one he couldn’t resist.

Through the years, however, Jeanneret’s trips became few and far between. Up to Toronto. Maybe some in places such as Boston, Montreal or New York. Or near his haunts in Florida. But that’s about it.

Early in the 2017-18 season, Jeanneret decided he wanted to take on the Sabres’ West Coast trip because it included their first sojourn to Vegas. He wouldn’t be on the air every night, but he was on the trip. The game in Vegas was the final one of four on the trip and Jeanneret was, frankly, pretty shot by that night.

Before the game, he looked exhausted. He saw me from a distance in the T-Mobile Arena press box, waved in my direction and started to walk toward me. I said simply, “You hanging in there?”

Jeanneret didn’t say a word. Never stopping, he nodded, held up his hand, reached into his jacket pocket – and pulled out a small bottle of a prominent antacid. He kept walking right past me down the hall into his booth.

Saw him the next week back home and as he aptly pointed out, “There was one time where I didn’t need to say a thing. Doesn’t happen too often.”

I spent the 2021-22 season calling Jeanneret roughly once a week for a diary feature we published in advance of RJ Night in April. We’d review some events of the week and Jeanneret’s thoughts on them and the games. By the end of the season, I’d buzz his cellphone and he’d answer simply by saying, “What?”

I’d crush him by saying I’d call back if I was interrupting his work on some major analytics research project and he’d chuckle and say, “Aw hell, you got me. The old man is just sitting in his chair. Guess you want me to say something interesting again.”

And he always did. Loved his reaction to the Sabres’ new team dog being named “Rick”: “I never had anybody named after me, not even a horse – and I’ve been known to bet the odd horse in my time. It was nice and I saw how big he was, too. Holy mackerel, this is a puppy? He’s up to my waist now. If he sits on me, my career ends before the 51st year.”

As word of his death spread, the Sabres moved into quick motion. The social media team poured out tribute videos and an RJ display sprouted on Alumni Plaza by the arena, featuring an audio loop of classic calls. On a video meeting with reporters, General Manager Kevyn Adams said Jeanneret will always be remembered.

An initial reaction: He deserves a statue outside the arena. Just like Tigers announcer Ernie Harwell has in Detroit, or Kings announcer Bob Miller and Lakers voice Chick Hearn have in LA. Or Harry Caray in Chicago. Or Bob Uecker in Milwaukee.

Rick Jeanneret is Buffalo. He is the Sabres.

Rest in peace, RJ. You were top shelf all the way.

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