The voice of home: Jill Cole

She is the soundtrack of a city, the muse of near-millions, the voice of home.

Jill Cole may be calling her final home series of the season this week, but she will never be silenced.

Forever she will be heard on cool Spring nights, a serenade of rebirth, a song of hope.

“Weeeelcomee everyone to PK Park!”

Forever she will resonate on warm summer nights, the music of family, the lyrics of life.

“Keep reading kids and as always, gooooo Emeralds,”

Jil will call her final game of the season, — Sunday’s game will be called by Phil Carrasco as it’s a Monarcas Sunday — but her poetic narration of a Eugene staple will ring in our hearts throughout the offseason.

Officially now, at the end of her fifth year total, she’s been the PA Announcer of the Eugene Emeralds. Her Twitter name, TheFemalePA, is a perfect representation of something she takes great pride in .

Unofficially, she was the woman who brought candy to each game, who taught me (a teenager) about old comics and sang random tunes in between batters.

Officially, she exists behind a microphone in the production room, high above home plate, with her photos of family and friends to her left. From that seat she could make anyone feel welcomed.

Unofficially, she is everywhere.

She’s been such a part of the fabric of this city, that her voice is seemingly a local landmark. A poetic Spencer's Butte, a rhapsodic TrackTown Pizza.

For so many of us she’s been a mother figure, a calming presence with some of us college students miles away from home.

But for those who know her best — her children, Bailey, and Parker, she’s mom. And for all of us she’s like a cross between a mother and a cool aunt.

And for General Allan Benavides, hiring her was entirely due to Jill being herself.

“Well I’m sitting at a game heckling, and here comes Allan, he goes ‘have you ever thought about PA announcing’ and gives me his card.” Jill says. “I think I even threw out his card, but somehow I’m back at the next game and Allan comes back and pulls me from the stands and tells Teddy (the PA Announcer at the time) that I’m going to call the next inning… apparently I did a good job because I started filling in for Teddy when he needed a day off, and now last year I got the full-time job, and the rest is the history.”

Through it all, for nearly a decade, for the thousands who heard her for a minute or for a lifetime, she kept sharing and embracing. In return, she was revered like a friend and loved like a mother.

We’ve laughed with her, marveled with her, learned from her, grown from her, connected through her, and the offseason will be a whole lot quieter without her.