Daily Archives: December 29, 2008

Billy and George:

 
Billy gets in another cheap gag:

By Mark Lamster

In the summer after my junior year at college I got a job working in the records department of HIP, the health insurance agency. In a basement office with no windows, I’d review double-entry ledgers for typographical errors, a tedious process I considered beneath my dignity. It was depressing work, my colleagues were unfriendly, and the most humiliating part of it was that I was just short of incompetent. I didn’t care, and it showed. Then I came home to a message from the New York Yankees. I was going to The Show.

As a budding sports journalist, I’d written to Yankees Magazine, offering my services as an intern. A spot had opened, and the next week I reported for duty at the Stadium, over-eager in khakis and a blazer. The office was in the dingy stadium basement: frayed carpet, no windows. My primary task was to proofread box scores and stat tables for the team’s minor league affiliates—these went in the back of the magazine. Not much of an improvement from HIP, and the climate was no better. The secretary spent her days endlessly defending the integrity of Milli Vanilli, recently revealed to be a fraud, while playing their hit record on a boombox.

This was 1990, and things were bleak for the Yanks. Bucky Dent had been cashiered in favor of Stump Merrill, but the team was still heading for 67 losses and a seventh-place finish. The magazine’s basement office, out of sight and out of mind, was actually a blessing. No one wanted to be upstairs, on the executive level. The Boss’s comings were unpredictable, and the staff lived in a perpetual state of fear for his arrival. It was said that he’d fire employees on a whim, and for no reason other than appearing in his siteline. The place was terrorized—joyless, somber, tense. I’d never experienced anything like it. In my entire time working there, I met one player, Luis Polonia, which tells you everything you need to know about those Yankees. The highlight of my tenure was an elevator ride with Bobby Murcer. He wore white pants and a green plaid jacket—a joyfully loud ensemble—and it a priority to greet every employee with his Oklahoma drawl. He was the anti-Boss.

There was actually one perk to the job. It came with a Yankee ID, and with that I had free entry to as many games as I could stand. I could sit just about anywhere as well; the good seats were rarely occupied, and with a flash of the badge I was clear to do as I pleased. I rarely sat in those good seats. I preferred the bleachers out in right field, where I’d been a regular for years, along with my closest high school friends.

The play on the field was grim, but the bleachers were always a party, and the reason was Melle Mel, the founding genius behind Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. These were the days before “Roll Call,” before the “Bleacher Creatures” became a self-professed institution. Mel was the unquestioned leader of the gang, and was usually accompanied by Busy Bee, a lesser light of the hip-hop stage. The two knew how to get a crowd working; the bleachers were just another club. They usually arrived in about the third inning, rarely sober, often stoned. (I don’t think I’m telling tales out of school here.) I remember them flying especially high one evening, and then returning home after the game to catch the last few minutes of Johnny Carson. On comes a PSA featuring Mel, “Don’t Do It.”

Mel’s signature was a dead-on impersonation of Stevie Wonder doing “I Just Called to Say I Love You,” which he’d sing waving his head to-and-fro while standing in the ass-contoured blue plastic seats that were removed about a decade ago, in favor of benches. (More fannies, more dollars.) Mel wore a ring with his name on it that stretched across his entire hand; it was a real danger during high fives. Whenever games got close in the late innings—this was known as “Toenail Time” for some inexplicable reason—he’d demand the entire bleachers stop drinking and pay full attention.

Mel gave the bleachers a bit of celebrity cache, but what really made his presence special was the sense he gave us that we were all—ghetto rappers, lunchpail types, old timers, Hispanics, even us privileged kids from Manhattan—a part of something uniquely New York, united in our devotion to the Yankees. He was a “star,” and had a magnetic charisma, but he was inclusive. One night Busy came in with copies of his new album, passed them out to the crowd, and invited everyone to his set that night at the Paladium. I wish we had gone, though I suspect we would never have made it past the velvet rope.

I spent years of my life out in those bleachers. My friends and I developed our own traditions. After the game we’d take the 4 train back to Eighty-sixth Street and, after a win, go for “victory donuts” at the shop on the corner of Lex. It wasn’t always so fun. In 1988, after Steinbrenner had picked a fight with Don Mattingly over his haircut, I found myself on the back page of Newsday, sitting below a group of regulars holding up letters that spelled “TRADE GEORGE.” We despised him, and though I’m no longer the despising kind, I can’t say I’ve forgotten or forgiven his many trespasses and disgraces. Eventually, of course, Steinbrenner did himself in, and for conspiring against Dave Winfield, always Mel’s favorite. And that was a new dawn for the Stadium, and the team.

By the mid nineties, my friends and I stopped visiting the bleachers with regularity. Schedules intruded, girlfriends, lives. When we did go to the ballpark, and we still went often, we opted for better seats. The bleachers changed. The “Creatures” had begun to consider themselves an attraction, justifiably. With that new fame came unpleasant questions about authenticity, who was a true regular. Mel stopped showing up.

We were still fans, still true, and we got our ultimate reward in 1996. My greatest memory of Yankee Stadium comes from that year, and it wasn’t even at the stadium. I watched the last game of the World Series that year with my future wife in her tiny studio apartment on Eighty-seventh Street and First Avenue. The joy of that game’s final moment, Charlie Hays clutching that last pop—the ultimate exaltation.

I had planned with my friends that, in the case of a win, we’d all meet up for one last victory donut. But somehow we found out that the Yanks would be holding their victory party that night at Cronies, a sports bar on Eighty-Seventh and Third, just a couple of avenues away. By the time we all met there the entire block was shut down and barricaded, fans were cheering and passing around champagne, and the players were arriving by limo—Derek, Tino, Jim Leyritz in a ten-gallon hat. For years, we had been trekking out to the Bronx to cheer on our team. Now, after the win we had all longed for, they came home to us.

Mark Lamster is author of Spalding’s World Tour and cofounder of YFSF.

It was 65 degrees here in NYC yesterday … they should have been playing baseball!  Here’s the news:

• Newsday’s Kat O’Brien has an overview of the changes made by the Yankees to this point in the off-season.  Of some interest is the supposed offer the Yanks had on the table to Teixeira:

The Angels pulled their offer for Teixeira Dec. 21. That left the Yankees, Red Sox, Nationals and Orioles, though most reports had Teixeira choosing between the Red Sox and Nationals as late as Dec. 23, when he came to terms with the Yankees. The Yankees, at least publicly, were a dark horse.

Boras disputed that yesterday, as well as Newsday’s timeline of the negotiations. He said the Yankees had an offer on the table all along, though team sources say that was not the case.

• Anthony McCarron of the News takes a position-by-position look at the Yanks roster, last year versus the current one, and likes what he sees … a lot.
• John Sickels on MinorLeagueBall.com gives his Top 20 Yankee Prospects for 2009.  Here’s his top five:

1) Jesus Montero, C, Grade B+: I believe in the bat. Where he fits with the glove I don’t know.

2) Austin Jackson, OF, Grade B: Should be a solid player but not a star. Will that be enough in New York?
3) Dellin Betances, RHP, Grade B-: Very high ceiling, has flashed dominance, can he stay healthy?
4) Austin Romine, C, Grade B-: More likely to stick behind the plate than Montero, though not as good a hitter.
5) Zach McAllister, RHP, Grade B-: A favorite of mine heading into 2008, looks like a strong inning-eater type.

• Andy Martino of the News has a long article detailing concerns over the pressures on Joba Chamberlain:

The pitcher’s success at 23 has come despite a family background marred by addiction and separation, and in part because of a big heart and strong work ethic.

But now some of the people closest to Chamberlain are concerned that he is changing, that his troubles are catching up with him despite his success or emerging because of it. With a worrisome pitching shoulder and DUI suddenly on his resume, Chamberlain faces a personal and professional crossroads in 2009, a year that could determine whether his legacy will be more lightning in a bottle or sustained light.

“Joba is a great person and I love him, but now he’s ventured into something that’s not so good,” says Wally Gant, a family friend who spent long afternoons on his front porch engaged in heart-to-hearts with the teenage Joba. “I heard through the grapevine that he had been drinking more. (Success) has gotten to his head a little. If he does things like this, he won’t be able to stay in the major leagues.”

• Marty Noble of MLB.com recaps the stellar career of David Cone, but admits it most likely won’t be enough to gain him entrance into the Hall:

Not the most accomplished pitcher of his time, Cone nonetheless developed a reputation for Bob Gibson resolve and the stamina of a marathoner that set him apart from most of those with totals greater than his. How his achievements, image as a Hessian and five World Series rings will resonate with those casting Hall of Fame ballots is yet to be determined. Cone is among 10 players new to the ballot this year. But he appears to be a candidate who will elicit support out of respect and not only for his statistical achievement.

Gaining the minimum support for election — inclusion on 75 percent of the ballots distributed to more than 575 members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America — appears to be a long shot for Cone, particularly with a sure-fire candidate, Rickey Henderson, among the new 10 and three holdover candidates named on at least 60 percent of the ballots cast last year, Jim Rice (72.2 percent), Andre Dawson (65.9) and Bert Blyleven (61.0).

[My take: Here are his stats.  One can only wonder what kind of toll his arm took by having eight starts of 141 or more pitches during 1991 and 1992, including that famous 166-pitch outing in July 1992.  I think he’ll be named on 15% of ballots this year, creep up a bit over the next three or four years, then drift off the chart.]

• Jaret Wright turns 33 today.  Wright managed to go a combined 16-12 in two seasons with the Yanks despite allowing 238 hits and 89 walks in only 204 IP.  The Yanks were nonetheless able to peddle Wright to the Orioles for Chris Britton.
• Richie Sexson turns 34 today.  “Big Sexy” continued his impotent ways after the Yanks signed him in July of ’08.  K’ing 10 times in 28 ABs, he was released by late-August.
• Dennis Werth, who had cups of coffee with the Yanks in ’79, ’80 and ’81, turns 56.
• On this date in 1933, Yankees owner Jacob Ruppert refuses to release Babe Ruth from his contract, thus preventing him from becoming the manager of the Cincinnati Reds. Ruth will never receive a chance to manage a major league team.
• On this date in 1977, Melissa Ludtke, female Sports Illustrated sports writer, files suit against MLB, the Yankees and New York City officials for denying her access to the locker room to interview players during the 1977 World Series.