“Holy cow!”, R.I.P.
Yogi Berra came up to the YES Network booth to reminisce a bit about Rizzuto with Michael Kay and Ken Singleton, which produced a couple of nice bits, like Yogi claiming that Rizzuto swung a 35/35 bat. Not that I don’t believe the Yog, because he was there, but that is really a big bat, especially for a guy Rizzuto’s size. I think Bobby Bonds used to swing a bat that size, and in fact I seem to recall that it was something he was known for — that, and the prodigious number of strikeouts he annually racked up, for which the bat was often blamed in part. Unless I’m mixing him up with George Foster, who had a big old black bat that he carried like it was made of mercury. The point: huge bat for a tiny guy.
Kay also mentioned after Yogi left the booth that he and Scooter were friends, so it was probably an effort for him to come up and share his time with them and they appreciated that, which was nice.
But then it was time to go to commercial, and as the camera panned down to the #10 stencilled on the grass near the on-deck circle, Kay concluded his bullet on Rizzuto’s death with, “…A Yankee forever.”
I can forgive the barfy Kay homerism this time, given how much time Rizzuto put in in the booth; Kay is maybe feeling this a little more deeply than he otherwise might. But the thing is that the Yankees gave Rizzuto his unconditional release in the middle of the ’56 season; it was Old Timers’ Day, in fact. He hadn’t been hitting — he hadn’t been hitting for a good two years, really, by that point — but everyone involved in the decision took a healthy ration of shit for handling it so tackily, especially Stengel, and I couldn’t help imagining Rizzuto’s restless ghost hearing the phrase “a Yankee forever” and muttering to himself, “Right — except for the day when they kicked me to the curb for Country Slaughter without even warning me first. Dillweeds.”
I have the same reaction whenever Thurman Munson’s name comes up, which it tends to do at this time of year. The shifting sands of time seem to have smoothed him down to a no-bullshit clubhouse leader and all-around stand-up guy, and I often wonder if he’d be spun quite the same way if he hadn’t died when, and the way, he had. I feel as though, until about five years ago, the general concensus on Munson was that his death, while tragic, didn’t change the fact that he was on balance a red-ass whose knees were starting to go anyway — but you don’t really hear it put that way anymore. I was six when he died, I didn’t grow up in a Yankee household, I can’t really remember how he was perceived at the time, but it does seem like a shift has occurred.
Then again, this happened to Ted Williams, too, to an extent, even during his lifetime. He had a horrendous relationship with the Boston fans at first and is consistently characterized as an angry blowhard by contemporaries and biographers, but this came to be viewed with a certain fondness as time went on — and he was the Splinter, after all. I’m not looking to draw any particular conclusions here; I guess it just depends on what position you’re in when the amber freezes you.
It’s not really limited to baseball players, I don’t think. I mean, think about how warm the coverage was when William “Plessy was right” Rehnquist died and went to that great big whites-only counter in the sky. It’s complicated and tied up with respect for the dead, but we do have a compulsion to smooth over the rough edges, particularly with our public figures.
It’s not limited to even public figures. When my uncle died in 9/11, all of his past transgressions (cheating on his wife with multiple people and acting like a general ass to the whole family) were unilaterally forgiven. Suddenly, he was a saint, and his NY Times memorial painted him as a The World’s Best Husband who had to put up with a whiny, demanding wife. She wrote it, so I should make peace with it; but it still chafes.
I was 10 when Thurman Munson died, and I grew up in a Yankee household. Being a Greg Nettles and Reggie Jackson guy (dude, i was 8 years old in 77. There was really on other option), I recall that I felt a weirdness hearing that Munson was dead, but no real grief about it. My sister, on the other hand, locked herself in her room and wept. hm. I’m trying to bring back how I felt about Munson. He ran like a spaz train. Hustler with a mustache. Yea…I think I liked him better than Lou Piniella but not as much as Mickey Rivers.
I love your sports writing, Sars. If I worked at YES I would throw money at you and send you into the Yankees locker room, and maybe we’d get some decent baseball questions beyond the horrible thing that is sports interviews. Especially basketball interviews. Especially “How do you feel?” “Well, not as good as it did before you asked that question.”
ugh, they make me sick to my stomach. I’m too old for this bullshit, you know?
I think i’m blogging in your comments. I think that’s bad form. OR it should be.
But i’ll post this anyway, because i’m an exhibitionist like that.
I can’t speak to the Yankee players very well, but having grown up in a Sox household with a grandfather who was both a contemporary and huge fan of Ted Williams, I always got the impression that his appeal was BECAUSE of his macho, difficult, John Waynesque persona, not so much that he overcame it. I heard tell a time or two of the difficulties he had with the fans at first, but eventually his cantankerous nature and fierce bat won over the faithful.
I just want to echo Slim’s comment about loving your sports writing.
I don’t have cable , but John Sterling brough up Scooter’s release in his broadcast–which was really awful, especially the part where they called him and were like “go through the roster with us and tell us who you think should be cut.” And as they went through, it became pretty clear who that person was. That said, the point of John’s story was that Scooter could have been like f-off, I’m going to play for KC, but…he wanted to be a Yankee, and he agreed to broadcast and did it for almost forty years. I totally agree about our rose-colored glasses look at history, but Scooter seemed like he wanted to be a Yankee for life.
Another Sox fan here. I get the impression that Teddy Baseball became a lot more gracious towards the fans in his old age as well. However, Yaz is still a crusty old guy – he always has his grumpy face on at Red Sox public appearances.
Unrelated:
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Sars:
Where to start? I started off sad, but in a sort of nostalgic-sepia-toned way, when I heard that Scooter had passed. I’ve missed him in the broacasting booth for years and years now…and I can’t see a cannoli, get caught in a hellacious thunderstorm or go over the GWB without remembering Phil Rizzuto. But losing Scooter is worlds different than losing Thurman. I was in my early-mid twenties and studying for the Bar exam in Jersey the August day that Thurman died. I’ll never forget the double-take I did when the news came over the radio. All I could think was that I needed to be with someone else who could contemplate ( if not necessarily share ) my shock and sadness. I ran down the stairs of my condo and banged on the door of my neighbor’s unit…and I know I babbled hysterically and cried on her when she opened the door.
Excessive reaction? not so much, at least not if you’d had the same opportunity to watch Thurman in action that I had. No spin here….he genuinely WAS the ultimate no-nonsense no-bullshit best teammate EVER ( unless you’re Reggie “I’m the straw that stirs the drink” Jackson ). Have you ever seen the archive footage of the first game played at the Stadium after Thurman’s death? if not, do yourself a favor and watch the whole thing if you can. That was real, in the moment emotion going on there. No “caught in amber” soft-focus lens effect or the passage of time rendering him bigger and better than he was. Listen to Bobby Murcer reminisce about Thurman sometime. Thurman was loved. Still is loved. He was the Captain. Yeah, I know, so’s Jeter. And I love me some Jetes too, trust me. But Thurman was a warrior Captain. He was raw and elemental and unpolished and unapologetic about it. He was all heart and intestines, with that great Field General aptitude thrown in as gravy. Even when his knees started to go. God, I’m so glad I got to see him for as long as he was with us. And I’m sorry that you missed him. It was a privilege for me as a Yankee fan to follow his career. I still remember, and I still miss him like crazy.
“I guess it just depends on what position you’re in when the amber freezes you.”
Or, in Ted Williams’ case, when your children freeze you.
Not sure how I left myself open for that one. I must have…
…LOST MY HEAD.
Funny, about how they called him a “Yankee forever”, since after 40 years broadcasting for the team they fired him because he wanted a day off to attend Mickey Mantle’s funeral.
That’s class.
My sister was the biggest fan Thurman Munson ever had, and she too locked herself in her room for days, weeping, when he died (Slim, are you my brother? Only you can’t be, because my brother is and has always been a Sox fan. Perhaps our sisters knew each other). She still, to this day, has a little shrine to him in her home. I was nine when he died, just starting to get into baseball, and the moment when my mother broke the news to my sister is still one of the most indelible memories of my childhood. I can still pretty much name the whole line-up for the Yankees during those years — Munson, Mickey “Mick the Quick” Rivers, Graig Nettles, Bucky Dent, Reggie Jackson, Willie Randolph… Chris Chambliss at first? Or Dave Revering? Dave Winfield in RF? I may have my seasons mixed up a little. Guidry, Gossage and those guys on the mound. Good times, good times.
It’s sad about Scooter. His “holy cow”s were a staple of my childhood. I think the fans would definitely consider him a Yankee Forever, and maybe that’s what matters.
I think it was Piniella in right, and Winfield in left from 81 until mid 1984. Piniella was definitely my favorite of that gang.
I have a friend who worked in the booth with Scooter for a few years and he has some bawdy stories about him – I kept saying, no, you can’t tell me about Phil Rizzuto having to pee!
PINIELLA! How could I have forgotten Piniella? And me a Mariners fan, to boot.