Over the past several years, I’ve had more than a few skeptical out-of-towners ask me why Don Mattingly is such a big deal in New York. On a superficial level, it’s like asking a Cubs fan why Ernie Banks, or Ryne Sandburg are popular in Chicago: they were all great players on losing teams. Okay, so Mattingly didn’t have a great career, but from 1984-1989 he was a great player. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t a Hall of Famer. Hey, most fans just love guys who hit for a high average and drive in runs without striking out much.
As Joe Posnanski wrote in an e-mail:
He wore the pinstripes, and played Gehrig’s position, and he was all throwback — he wore that black under his eye, and he had that great swing, he came to the park to beat you ever day. I think he’s one of those guys who, had he played in Boston, Cleveland, Texas, Philadelphia, Seattle, anywhere, would have still been everybody’s favorite ballplayer. There really was nothing phony about him. He went up there to hit. He stood off the plate, he walked shockingly little, he drove in bleeping runs. Guy hit .314 with runners in scoring position.
I always got the feeling from friends that Mattingly was the coveted, “One Yankees player you really wish was on your team.” Not because he was good, but because he was a player you liked despite yourself.
The second half of Mattingly’s career was marked by injuries. He also played through some awful years in the Bronx, which helped increase his popularity, but the legend of Donnie Baseball started in his first full year (1984) when he won the batting crown on the last day of the season, and the following year when he walked away with the AL MVP. It is also rooted in the fact that Mattingly was an overachiever–he was a heady player with limited physical gifts, a grinder, just the kind of player fans love, especially white fans.
“By the time his career is over,” said Ron Guidry in the spring of 1986, “he could be one of the best who ever played this game. He may not turn out to be quite what Lou Gehrig was, but he’ll be closer than anybody else.”
“His play, not his words, were the thing,” says BP’s Joe Sheehan. “He was a beacon of dignity in a time when the Yankees were largely undignified.”
