Luis Tiant was a beloved Red Sox icon, but to us he was also “Uncle Luis.”

Only Red Sox fans of a certain age can get a sense of what it looked like here in October 1975. That was almost half a century ago, so young people will have to believe us when we tell you that there really was nothing like the El Tiante phenomenon when the Red Sox broke through this season. Baby Boomer Sox fans with imaginations still hear chants of “LOO-ie, LOO-ie” floating around the old Fenway Park.

Know this: Before there was Pedro Martinez, Manny Ramirez or David Ortiz, Boston had its first Latin superstar in Tiant, the chubby Cuban right-hander with a Fu Manchu mustache who turned his back on hitters as part of an elaborate wrap-up that led to this to breathtaking, unbeatable throws that whizzed past bewildered hitters (“twisting and turning on the mound like a figure in a Bavarian bell tower,” wrote Roger Angell).

I'll leave it to great writers to tell you why Tiant should be inducted into the Hall of Fame (as well as his contemporaries Catfish Hunter and Don Drysdale, who did) or how he stunned world champion Big Red Machine with a five – Hit shutout in the first game of the Greatest World Series Ever Played in 1975.

Baseball bards can describe Tiant's dislocation-driven victory, his epic 1968 season in Cleveland (21-9, 1.60 ERA, nine shutouts) or his two-hit shutout against the Blue Jays that sent the hapless Red Sox to the Buckys in 1978 Dent playoff game against the Yankees.

They'll probably have a lot to say about Tiant's supernatural 163-pitch performance in the 5-4 Game 4 win over the Reds in the aforementioned “Greatest World Series Ever Played.”

Tiant played for six teams in his 19-year career, but became a legend in Boston with 122 wins in eight seasons after it looked like his career was over due to injuries.

Oh, and there was the cigar. Tiant was rarely seen without a stogie, and this is where I will forever focus my memories of Luis.

At almost every Red Sox spring training this century, Luis and I stayed for a few weeks at the same hotel—the non-palatial Bell Tower Homewood Suites on Route 41 in Fort Myers, Florida.

After dark I always knew where to find him. His lovely wife, Maria, did not allow him to smoke in the hotel, which made it easy to find him in the early evening hours after the Homewood staff had cleared away the (free) evening offering of crackers, cheese, salad, etc. in the lobby. and meatballs.

All I had to do was stroll out of the lobby, walk across the parking lot to the adjacent Double Tree, and soon I would be hit by the scent of a CAO Arcana Thunder Smoke wafting through the swampy Lee County night. Following the scent, I would soon come face to face with Luis, sitting behind the wheel of his black Cadillac Escalade with the window open, ready to discuss the pitch with Mickey Mantle or Pete Rose. Or whatever you wanted.

Later that night, Tiant and fellow Cuban Tony Oliva could be found playing dominoes with their wives at a four-person table in the Homewood lobby. The Red Sox and Twins both have Grapefruit League training complexes in Fort Myers, and the aging Cuban stars enjoyed swapping stories from their home country (and the 1960s American League) while serving as guest coaches during spring training.

Spring in Homewood was characterized by quiet days and nights, plenty of sunshine, flat surfaces suitable for walking… and an endless reservoir of downtime. Some would call it boring, but snowbirds and old people love it. With that in mind, several of my siblings, adult children, and nieces came to Florida to soak up the sunshine and eat free meatballs at Homewood in February/March.

So Tiant became “Uncle Luis” in the extended Shaughnessy family. My older sister Mary – born in 1942, widowed in 2009 and suffering from dementia in her final years – loved seeing El Tiante in the Homewood lobby.

“He was always very nice to her,” Mary's daughter Colleen recalled Tuesday after learning of Luis' death. “Even after she couldn’t speak, she still recognized Luis.”

And he knew her. When Luis saw my sister, he crossed the room, leaned over and gently placed a small kiss on her cheek. Mary last saw Luis in Homewood in February 2020 and she still had his photo on her room wall when she died a year and a half later.

The last time I saw Luis at spring training in 2023, I told him that my sister had passed away. He expressed his condolences, touched his heart and then asked about Mary's grandson, a little boy who was just 4 years old when Luis took a photo with him in Homewood in 2019.

Elias is doing well and loves baseball. Today he plays travel ball for the Harlem Hellfighters. He is a right-handed pitcher. I think Luis would like that.

Sometime soon we will be showing Elias videos of Uncle Luis “twisting and turning on the hill like a figure in a Bavarian bell tower.”

Pitching as performance art.

The boy won't believe his eyes. You really had to be there.

There will never be another Luis Tiant.

Dan Shaughnessy is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at [email protected]. Follow him @dan_shaughnessy.