I’m not ready to become all jelly-legged about Phil Hughes, not based on a trio of starts. Hughes’ drop in velocity is not as unusual as some make it out to be. I remember just last year the articles that were written in the Bay Area expressing dismay over Madison Bumgarner’s springtime loss of velocity. By the end of the regular season, Bumgarner was not only a significant part of the Giants’ rotation, but he was the No. 4 starter in the postseason, pitching for a world championship team. During the regular season, Bumgarner pitched to the tune of a 3.00 ERA. And then he pitched even more effectively in the postseason, culminating in a scoreless eight-inning start against the Rangers in the World Series.

Assuming that Hughes is not hurt, I think his velocity will return. (It was a bit better on Thursday night against Baltimore.) A 24-year-old pitcher doesn’t usually lose his fastball unless there is something wrong with his elbow or his shoulder. But Hughes could be serving as a test case for what is a flawed organizational pitching philosophy. The Yankees are so overly protective of their minor league pitchers, employing the strictest of pitch counts and innings limits, that it makes me wonder if they are hindering their development.

It’s one thing to avoid giving young pitchers 220-inning workloads in the minor leagues; it’s quite another to bend to the other extreme and do damage in another way. If pitchers don’t throw enough, they can’t develop arm strength, and if they can’t develop arm strength, they won’t be able to throw as hard as they are capable. If pitchers can’t even give you 175 innings in the minor leagues (Hughes never went higher than 146 in a season), how can they be expected to give you anywhere close to 200 innings in the majors, where the competition is stiffer and the pressure is greater?

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Over at Baseball Think Factory, a heated debate has centered on Rafael Soriano’s decision to leave the clubhouse early on Tuesday night, before he could be grilled by reporters about his eighth inning blow-up at the hands of the Twins. Some posters have defended Soriano, saying that they do not want to listen to the media whine about the difficulty of doing their job. The Soriano defenders sympathize with him, saying that it’s understandable that he didn’t want to talk after such a poor performance. Others have criticized Soriano for failing to “face the music” after walking three batters, all of whom scored during Minnesota’s rally from a 4-0 deficit.

As someone who has worked in the media and has had to conduct interviews in locker rooms and clubhouses, I’ll always take the writers’ side on this issue. First off, those that think it is fun or glamorous to conduct interviews in a losing clubhouse, talking to guys who are probably not in the best of moods, are horribly mistaken. Reporters who venture into clubhouses do so because they are expected to by their bosses, whether it’s to pick up a good quote or two for the next day’s newspaper, or to come up with a sound bite that can be used on radio or TV. To me, it’s one of the least pleasant aspects of being a reporter/writer. So I figure that if I have to go into the clubhouse to do an interview, then athletes should shoulder a similar responsibility and make themselves available with a reasonable degree of civility.

Players who don’t stick around after wearing goat horns also place an unfair burden on their teammates, who are left trying to make explanations for the players who avoid the media. Do you really think that Russell Martin wants to sit there trying to explain what Soriano was doing wrong on the mound, or speculating about how he felt after blowing a four-run lead and essentially the game? A report in the New York Daily News indicated that several of the Yankee players were indeed upset with Soriano for leaving the clubhouse early and making them have to do the talking for him. We can be sure that at least one Yankee player pulled Soriano aside the next day and informed the temperamental reliever that he had made a bad choice. So it wasn’t just the Yankee front office that expressed its displeasure to Scott Boras, the agent for Soriano.

I’m not saying that it’s the law, or even a rule, that players must do this: I think it’s just the decent and ethical thing to do. Joe Sheehan and other Sabermetric Internet writers don’t care about players making themselves available because the kind of writing they do doesn’t depend on player interviews or quotes. They’re writing as analysts, and their writing is largely dependent on statistics and the evaluation of what they mean in regard to player performance. So how would Joe Sheehan and other writers react if teams and leagues didn’t make statistics available to the mass media? How would they feel if boxscores were not printed and statistics like on-base percentage or WHIP were not released to the public, but were instead treated as proprietary information? Would they be as quick to give teams a free pass for such a policy? After all, there’s no law or rule that says teams have to make this information available to the public for free. But once again, it’s the right thing to do.

As a fan, I don’t feel that I absolutely have to hear from the players after every game. A lot of what they say is clichéd and trite balderdash. If I hear “It is what it is” one more time, I may not be held responsible for my actions. But if a Yankee player screws up a game, I’d like to hear why it happened, or at least how it happened. And if a Yankee player blasts a game-winning home run, I’d like to hear him talk about it, even if it’s just for a moment.

The Yankee players seem to agree with that philosophy. For years now, their players have made a policy of always talking to reporters, even after losses and even after they themselves endured bad games. Yankee players believe in being accountable, and being willing to answer tough questions after difficult defeats. And they’re absolutely right about it. It’s called being a professional.

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I’ll always love the underdog. The stars will receive their share of press, that’s a certainty, but I’m more interested in the backstories of baseball’s unwashed: the journeymen, the utility men, the eccentric characters in the back of the bullpen. Those are the guys I root for, the guys whose stories are of most interest to me.

Luis Ayala is this year’s Yankee underdog. If you could have predicted that Luis Ayala, 33-year-old right-hander, would make the 25-man Opening Day roster, then you should be using your predictive skills by purchasing as many lottery tickets as possible. I would have given Mark Prior, Sergio Mitre, Greg Golson, or Justin Maxwell far better chances of sticking with the Yankees for the start of the regular season. But they’re all back in the minor leagues, or with other teams, and Ayala is not. Somehow, he’s a Yankee.

Luis Ayala is not to be confused with Bobby Ayala, the stocky right-handed reliever who once pitched for the Mariners and faced the Yankees in that haunting 1995 American League Division Series. That Ayala once had one of the worst seasons in the history of modern day relief pitching; in 1998, he went 1-10 with a 7.29 ERA and allowed a cascade of 100 hits in 75 innings. He is long since retired, having last pitched in 1999 for the Cubs.

Luis Ayala is also not to be mistaken for Benny Ayala, an outfielder from an earlier generation who made his big league debut for the Mets in 1974. Benny earned a World Series ring as a backup flychaser with the 1983 champion Orioles. For the most part, Benny was a part-time outfielder who never achieved more than platoon status with the Mets, Cardinals, Orioles, and Indians, but was surprisingly popular because of his lyrical name. Mets fans, in particular, loved to yell out, “Benny Ayala!” as they mimicked Met broadcasters Bob Murphy and Lindsey Nelson. It became a rallying cry, of sorts, in some Westchester neighborhoods during the swinging seventies.

No, this is Luis Ayala, a native of Mexico, who has had a surprisingly decent six-year career as a middle reliever, forging a lifetime ERA of 3.67. After toiling in the Mexican League, Ayala was purchased by the old Montreal Expos after the start of the new millennium. He made it to the major leagues in 2003, a part of Frank Robinson’s pitching staff. Over his first four seasons with the Expos/Nationals, Ayala was highly effective, posting three seasons with ERAs below 3.00. He ranked among the best set-up relievers in the National League.

Like many relievers, Ayala’s fortunes fluctuated. He pitched so dreadfully for the Nationals during the first half of 2008 that they dumped him on the Mets for the infamous player to be named later. Ayala continued to pitch poorly for New York, which gladly allowed him to become a free agent at season’s end.

In 2009, Ayala pitched for Mexico in the World Baseball Classic, but was hit hard by the international opposition. Having signed with the Twins, Ayala threw mediocre ball for half a season; he requested a trade but instead drew his release. The Marlins picked him up, but watched him pitch horribly, posting an era of 11.74 in ten appearances. At the end of the season, the Marlins let him become a free agent once again, convinced that he had nothing left to offer at the age of 31.

Few could have blamed Ayala for calling it quits, but he stubbornly persisted in his belief that he could still pitch effectively at baseball‘s highest level. First he had to overcome a harrowing experience. In January of 2010, several gunmen emerged from three vehicles and invaded his home located near Los Mochis, Mexico. They shot down the door and handcuffed Ayala, who appeared to have been targeted as their kidnapping victim. Fortunately, police intervened and prevented Ayala from being abducted. Both Ayala and his family were unharmed.

Undeterred by the bizarre incident, Ayala went to spring training with the Dodgers. Over the course of 2010, he pitched for three different organizations, logged ineffective stints in each of their minor league systems, and failed to make it back to the big leagues with any of them. Without a single major league inning to his credit in 2010, it seemed obvious that Ayala should retire.

He didn’t. The Yankees signed him to a minor league contract, with an invite to spring camp in Tampa. Ayala pitched well almost every time out, permitting only one run in 11 innings spread over 11 appearances, with nine strikeouts and an ERA of 0.79. Still on the outside looking in, Ayala then watched Pedro Feliciano go down with an oblique strain and saw Mitre leave via a trade for spare outfielder Chris Dickerson. Against every imaginable odd, Luis Ayala earned the seventh spot in the bullpen and the final spot on the 25-man roster.

If you haven’t seen Ayala pitch, his delivery is a little weird, to put it kindly. He short-arms the ball, throwing from a semi-sidearm motion. Funky and awkward, It’s a bit painful to watch, and he doesn’t seem to be throwing the ball very hard, but hitters in the Grapefruit League hardly touched him during spring training.

I don’t know how long Ayala will remain in the Bronx, but I do know this: I’ll be rooting for him every time he steps onto the mound.

Bruce Markusen observes the Yankees from a perch in Cooperstown, NY.

In compiling these articles, I often select three topics of conversation, which may or may not have anything to do with each other. This week, I’d like to try something different: a series of random observations of what I’ve seen and followed in spring training. For this Yankee writer, this menu of pinstriped items has caught my attention over the last month and a half.

Bartolo Colon has been the largest–and yes, the pun is intended–of all the surprises in camp. “Chubbsy Ubbsy” has pitched beautifully this spring, with his last start representing the peak of his performance. After that game, one anonymous scout raved about Colon, calling him the “best pitcher” he had seen all spring, on any team. Colon has been throwing fastballs in the 94 to 95 mile-per-hour range, with good life and movement. He’s pitched so well that the Yankees have to include him on the Opening Day roster, either at the back end of the five-man rotation (where he may have to fend off the just-signed Kevin Millwood) or in the bullpen, where he might replace the traded Sergio Mitre. With Colon comes greater risk than Freddy Garcia, because he hasn’t pitched well since 2005 with the Halos, but there’s a potentially greater reward because of Colon’s higher pedigree. Now it all could blow up come June; Colon is 37 and hardly a practitioner of the Jack LaLanne workout program. But all in all, I think he’s worth the risk…

Eric Chavez and Jorge Vazquez have been the two other unexpected developments. Chavez has basically won the job as the backup corner infielder, but Vazquez has made such a strong impression that he could be the first recall if Chavez has a recurrence of back or shoulder trouble. Similarly, injuries to Mark Teixeira or Alex Rodriguez could also lead to a Vazquez promotion, with Chavez stepping in to play everyday. Thankfully, the Yankees now have their first legitimate backup to A-Rod in years, this after dabbling too much in the likes of Ramiro Pena and Cody Ransom and watching Wilson Betemit belly-flop in the reserve role. Betemit, by the way, has rejuvenated his career in Kansas City, but we never saw any of that hitting ability during his time in New York…

Speaking of Pena, it’s time for him to abdicate the utility throne to Eduardo Nunez, who is a better athlete, the more proficient base stealer, and versatile enough to play the outfield corners. He has also shown strides with his hitting, winning the praises of Ken Singleton on the YES Network. Nunez may not be good enough to play shortstop everyday, but he has more than enough talent to play a role as a valuable and versatile backup…

Staying with the infield, I think Alex Rodriguez is on the verge of having a monster season. Having dropped weight, he’s leaner and more flexible, important attributes for a player who’s now 35. I could easily see A-Rod hitting 45 home runs and flirting with a .600 slugging percentage, which he hasn’t done since 2007, when he reached the .645 mark. Now, if he would just make a midnight escape from Cameron Diaz and return to good-luck charm Kate Hudson…

Rather surprisingly, Austin Romine appears to have launched past Jesus Montero in the race to become the No. 2 catcher. Romine can flat-out catch in the major leagues–there has been no question about that for two years now–and as the son of former Red Sox outfielder Kevin Romine, he carries himself well in the clubhouse and on the field. But I have serious doubts about his ability to hit, especially when he’ll have to do so with irregular at-bats. So with Romine and Russell Martin, the Yankees would be carrying two questionable hitters behind the plate, rather than mixing in a good hitter as part of the equation. I know Montero has had a poor spring with the bat, but his minor league record indicates that he will hit with ferocity. There are times that Montero could pinch-hit for Martin or even Brett Gardner (against lefties), giving Girardi some more flexibility in the late innings. Without Montero, much of the pinch-hitting burden would fall on Andruw Jones, but what happens on days when Jones starts in the outfield? I’ll say it again: give me more backups who can swing the bat, especially in the era of the four-man bench…

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There is only one conclusion to draw from Ivan Nova’s performance on Wednesday night in Tampa: he is going to make the Opening Day roster, and most likely as the No. 4 starter. In bouncing back from his lone poor performance this spring, Nova pitched brilliantly by forging six hitless innings against the Orioles. He threw strikes, kept his fastball down, and even mixed in a slider, the latest addition to his repertoire. Nova recorded 11 of his 14 outs on ground balls, which is exactly the kind of ratio the Yankees would like to see this summer.

With Nova slotted in the fourth spot, that leaves only the No. 5 starter to be decided. The two right-handed veterans, Freddie Garcia and Bartolo Colon, will continue to fight for that honor, with the loser possibly heading to the bullpen, especially if the Yankees take the careful route and place Joba Chamberlain on the disabled list to start the season. (I don’t think Chamberlain’s oblique injury is all that serious, but the Yankees tend to be overly cautious when it comes to these things.) The Yankees could also open up a relief spot by releasing or trading Sergio Mitre, a possibility that has actually been rumored this spring despite Joe Girardi’s affinity for the former Marlin.

The other outside possibility for the bullpen is Romulo Sanchez, the ex-Pirate who is out of options. Sanchez has been wild this spring, but he has a live fastball that has impressed opposing scouts, and would almost certainly be claimed on waivers by someone. At 26, Sanchez is a lot younger than both Colon and Garcia, and more accustomed to pitching out of the pen.

Whatever happens with the 12-man staff, the Yankees at least appear to have some decent pitching options, more so than they appeared to have at the start of spring training…

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The Yankees made a bit of news on Thursday when they played Jorge Posada in the field for the first time this spring. It wasn’t at catcher, but at first base, where Posada actually looked good in catching a line drive and starting a double play.

I’m glad to see the Yankees use Posada at first base, giving them another option on days when Mark Teixeira needs a rest. (Ugh, there’s that word again.) But they have yet to use Posada as a catcher this Grapefruit League season, and have indicated they have no intention of doing so. I think that’s a mistake. By giving Posada just a few reps behind the plate, they could ensure his availability as a third-string, emergency catcher during the regular season. If Russell Martin were to miss a few games on a day-to-day basis, the Yankees would then have Posada available to back up Jesus Montero (or whoever the No. 2 catcher is). This would give the Yankees more flexibility, prevent an unnecessary call-up of someone like Austin Romine, and give the proud Posada the satisfaction of knowing that he might still do some catching in 2011.

The Yankees seem to think that Posada could get hurt if he catches at all this spring. That’s always a possibility, but it seems like an awfully negative way of thinking by which to operate a team. Imagining worst case scenarios at every turn can lead to some strange managerial decision-making. It’s also an odd way of thinking for a team that was willing to put Posada behind the plate in critical postseason games just five months ago…

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Last year, career minor leaguer Jon Weber was the feel-good story of spring training. He hit everything in sight and made a run at the Opening Day roster before being demoted to Triple-A Scranton/Wilkes Barre. Weber’s story ended nightmarishly; the veteran outfielder was suspended in mid-season for a third violation of baseball’s drug policy, and rather than take a 100-game ban, he opted to retire.

Let’s hope that the story of Jorge Vazquez ends far better than that. Like Weber, Vazquez is no prospect. He’s soon to turn 29 and will never be a regular in the major leagues. But he has legitimate right-handed power, is versatile, and could be a useful backup player in the Bronx. It’s only been a few games, but the career minor leaguer and ex-Mexican League standout has been rapping line drives around the Grapefruit League, putting himself in position to make an outside run at the 13th and final spot for position players.

Vazquez spent most of 2010 at Scranton/Wilkes Barre, where he slugged .526 as a part-time third baseman and first baseman. There’s little doubt about his power; he twice exceeded the 30-home run mark in Mexico, and has hit long balls at a similar rate in the high minors of the Yankee system. Now the down side. He’s the ultimate free swinger, having never walked more than 25 times in a full season. So let’s call him Celerino Sanchez with power.

Vazquez’ best shot at making the team rests on his ability to continue hitting this spring, along with a potential breakdown by Eric Chavez, who is also vying for a spot as a backup infield cornerman to Alex Rodriguez and Mark Teixeira. I think the Yankees would like to see Chavez make the team, based on his pedigree of left-handed power and defensive supremacy at third base. But if Chavez cannot stay healthy (a big IF for a guy who hasn’t played a full season since 2006) or if he fails to show any of his past power, then the door might open for Vazquez

As with Weber, I’ll be rooting for Vazquez. I guess I’m just a sucker for career minor leaguers. …

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Last summer I had the pleasure of interviewing former Yankee Fritz Peterson, who informed me of his involvement with a Ben Affleck/Matt Damon film project chronicling his famed wife swap with Mike Kekich. Now comes the news that Kekich will not give his approval to the project; in fact, one news report in the NY Post claims that the reclusive left-hander is “panic stricken” about the movie and “freaked out” that filmmakers actually found out where he lives.

I can’t say that I’m surprised to hear of Kekich’s reaction to the film. Ever since he retired in 1977, he has remained out of the baseball spotlight. I have never seen or heard him interviewed about his career, whether it’s talking about the Yankees or other stopping points in Los Angeles, Cleveland, Texas or Seattle. He has always been reluctant to talk about the wife swap, remaining so even with the passage of time. Unlike Peterson, I don’t think Kekich is planning any trips to Cooperstown in the near future.

So who exactly is Mike Kekich? Kekich the person remains a mystery, but Kekich the pitcher is very much the story of the highly touted left-hander who didn’t live up to his promise. Although he and Peterson are often mentioned interchangeably because of the wife swap, the reality is that Peterson was the far more accomplished pitcher.

Kekich came up in the Dodgers’ system in the mid-1960s, heralded as a talented left-hander with a blazing fastball. Some dared to call him the “next Sandy Koufax.” Unfortunately, the Dodgers at the time were just about the worst destination for a young pitcher because they were already bulging at the seams with talented hurlers; they had the actual Koufax, along with Don Drysdale, Don Sutton, Claude Osteen, and the up-and-coming Bill Singer.

Kekich could never gain traction with the Dodgers. After a terrible five-game stint in 1965, he went back to the minor leagues for two full seasons and didn’t return to Chavez Ravine in 1968. Kekich didn’t pitch particularly well, but he suffered from an unusual share of bad luck and poor run support, losing ten of 12 decisions while making 20 starts.

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Chuck Tanner never played for or managed the Yankees, but that really shouldn’t matter. He was one of those special people in baseball who just made you feel better about yourself, even if you were only around him for a few minutes. Tanner died last week at the age of 82, leaving behind a legacy of general cheerfulness and highly competent managing.

About a dozen years ago, I had a chance to meet Tanner and Oliver at a university symposium about integration in baseball. Both men played important roles for those culturally diverse Pirates teams, allowing them to share their experiences with the college students and academics in attendance. When it came to coaching and managing black athletes, Tanner offered plenty of credibility. More than any manager, he found a way to get through to Dick Allen where other skippers had failed. He also had good relationships with African-American and Latino players in Pittsburgh, from Oliver and Manny Sanguillen to Willie Stargell and Bill Madlock. His ability to deal well with athletes of all ethnicities was exemplified by a 1979 world championship team, a unified group tied together by the hit Sister Sledge song, “We are Family.”

After we participated in the panel, I had the distinct pleasure of dining with Tanner and Oliver. It didn’t take long to realize that Tanner’s persona of perpetual optimism was no deceptive façade. He took as much interest in me as I did in him, even though I had never managed a world champion or played in a major league game. As much as anyone I’ve ever met, Tanner genuinely exuded positive vibes–and seemingly did so every minute of the day. It was not difficult to see why so many of his players proclaimed him as the best and most enjoyable manager they had ever experienced.

Tanner knew the game, too. The job that he did leading the 1972 White Sox remains one of the great managerial accomplishments of the past 40 years. Other than Dick Allen, the knuckleballing Wilbur Wood, and a young Terry Forster, the White Sox had little frontline talent, but they somehow managed to keep pace with the vastly superior Oakland A’s for much of that summer. Tanner knew that he didn’t have much pitching depth that season, so he used a four-man rotation that sometimes morphed into a three-man affair. Wood, ex-Yankee Stan Bahnsen, and journeyman Tom Bradley each made over 40 starts, all of them pitching well enough to keep the Sox and their low-scoring offense in most games that season.

Tanner knew something about relief pitching, as well. He was the man who made the decision to convert Goose Gossage to the bullpen, a maneuver that resulted in a Hall of Fame career. Later on, when Tanner moved on to the Pirates, he masterfully mixed and matched his bullpen arms. He exhibited a great feel for when and where to use his relievers, whether it was Jim Bibby or Enrique Romo pitching in long relief, ex-Yankee Grant Jackson working as a situational left-hander, or Kent Tekulve filling the role as closer.

In between managing stints in Chicago and Pittsburgh, Tanner did intriguing work in Oakland. He managed the A’s for only season, but he left his mark in a distinctive way. An aggressive manager who loved the running game, Tanner realized he had speed to burn with the ‘76 A’s. Giving green lights to practically his entire roster, Tanner watched the A’s steal 341 bases, a major league record for the post-deadball era. Tanner skillfully used Matt “The Scat” Alexander and Larry Lintz as designated pinch runners, while coaxing career best base stealing seasons from Billy North (75 steals), Don Baylor (52) and even the -footed Sal Bando (20 steals). Having lost Reggie Jackson in a spring training deal and having to wade through Charlie Finley’s ill-fated player sales of Joe Rudi, Vida Blue, and Rollie Fingers, Tanner somehow kept the A’s in contention before they fell a few lengths short of Whitey Herzog’s Royals.

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It’s been a relatively busy week in Yankeeland. Aside from the Andy Pettitte retirement, which has been covered well by other writers here, the Yankees signed a free agent pitcher and made a trade for a minor league outfielder. Thirty-five-year old Freddy” The Chief” Garcia, a onetime legitimate No. 2 starter, signed a minor league contract, while Justin Maxwell, a 27-year-old former prospect with the Nationals, landed on the 40-man roster.

Let’s begin with Garcia. If he pitches reasonably well this spring, he’ll take his place as either the fourth or fifth starter. He pitched surprisingly well for the White Sox last year, logging 157 innings to the tune of a 4.63 ERA. If nothing else, he pitched far better than the enigmatic Javier Vazquez and the puzzling A.J. Burnett. If Garcia duplicates his ChiSox numbers this year, the Yankees will be more than satisfied; he’ll also be able to top the 12 wins he accrued now that he’s pitching behind a very capable Yankee offense. All in all, a good move for the Yankees, who protected themselves by signing Garcia to a minor league deal that allows them to cut bait if he has a poor spring.

Maxwell joins the Yankees at the minimal cost of minor league right-hander Adam Olbrychowski, a 24-year-old reliever of the non-prospect variety. Maxwell is a lesser known quantity than Garcia, but at first glance, he appears likely to battle Greg Golson for the fifth outfield spot. At 27, Maxwell can no longer be considered a real prospect; he hasn’t put up impressive minor league numbers since 2007, when he hit 27 home runs and slugged .533 for a couple of Class-A teams. On the plus side, Maxwell is athletic at six-feet, five inches and 225 pounds, with enough speed to play center field and enough arm to play right. On the whole, he might be considered a less speedy version of Golson, but with more patience at the plate and more power. Maxwell will have to outplay Golson this spring in order to make the 25-man roster; otherwise, he’ll be heading to Scranton/Wilkes Barre to start the season.

As with the Garcia signing, there’s little to lose here–with the potential upside of adding a complementary piece to the 25-man roster…

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Like the rest of the Northeast, I can’t wait for the arrival of spring. In addition to warmer weather and baseball, here’s another reason to look forward to springtime: the release of Bill White’s autobiography. The former Yankee broadcaster has written his memoirs, entitled Uppity: My Untold Story About the Games People Play. Based on the previews I’ve read, the 320-page book, published by Grand Central, promises to be a hard-hitting, brutally honest tome, which isn’t too surprising considering White’s broadcasting style.

For those Yankee fans too young to remember the days before the YES and MSG networks, Bill White was one of the three broadcasting staples of Yankee games on WPIX, not to mention the radio coverage on WMCA, WINS, and WABC. Along with Phil Rizzuto and Frank Messer, White became synonymous with Yankee broadcasts throughout the 1970s and much of the eighties. He was also a pioneer; when he signed on to do Yankee broadcasts in 1971, he became the first African American to do play-by-play for a major league team.

At one time a star with the St. Louis Cardinals, Bill White became one of my broadcasting heroes. He was the man who brought reason and stability to Yankee broadcasts, counterbalancing Rizzuto’s hijinks and Messer’s occasionally overoptimistic outlook. When the Yankees played well, White praised them. When they didn’t, he called them out, tough but fair. He even criticized the front office at times, a habit that was not shared by many other Yankee broadcasters

White was also a versatile talent in the broadcast booth. Unlike most former players, White could handle any role on radio or TV. He was equally adept at doing color or play-by-play, which made it easy for him to work with either Rizzuto or Messer. In addition, he smoothly handled pre- and postgame interviews, so much so that ABC hired him to work some playoff clubhouses in the mid-1970s.

I haven’t heard much about White since he vacated the presidency of the National League in 1994. But I suspect we’ll be hearing more about him this spring, as his tell-all book begins to gain traction. I have a feeling that William De Kova White will be naming names for about 320 pages.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

I must admit that I never warmed up to Dave Winfield as a Yankee. Initially, I was excited when the Yankees signed him as a free agent during the winter of 1980-81. With an aging core of position players, the Yankees desperately needed a relatively young and athletic outfielder like Winfield. They also lacked thump from the right side of the plate; with Winfield now available to complement Reggie Jackson in the middle of the batting order, the Yankees appeared to have a thunderous righty-lefty combination.

Almost immediately, the New York media tried to sour the fan base on Winfield. I remember Mike Lupica, a poison pen if there ever was one, lamenting that the Yankees had spent millions of dollars on a “singles hitter” like Winfield. Admittedly, Winfield hit only 13 home runs in his first summer as a Yankee, the strike-shortened campaign of 1981. At times, Winfield looked more like a line-driver hitter than a pure power hitter. I think Winfield would have hit more home runs if not for the fact that he hit the ball so hard, with such incredible overspin. When Winfield connected with a pitch firmly, he hit searing line drives that tended to reach the outfield and then dip. For some reason, his swing lacked the lift of a classic power hitter.

Still, Lupica’s assessment of “singles hitter” was borderline ludicrous. Winfield had just come off a 20-homer season in San Diego. In 1982, his second season in the Bronx, Winfield would hit 37 home runs. By the time his career ended in 1995, he would compile 465 home runs and a lifetime slugging percentage of .475. Singles hitter, my eye. Perhaps Mr. Lupica would like to revise that description.

I’m not sure why I paid so much attention to Lupica, and all the other naysayers in the New York media who tried to belittle Winfield’s ability. Of course, I was all of 16 years old at the time, an impressionable teenager who took the words of older baseball experts too closely to heart. Still, their words seemed to carry more resonance in the fall of 1981, after Winfield endured a brutal World Series, gathering one hit in a disappointing six-game loss to the Dodgers. George Steinbrenner certainly bought into the perception, dubbing Winfield “Mr. May.”

With the seeds of postseason futility sown, I began to view Winfield as something of a disappointment as a hitter, and a failure in the clutch. First off, I was frustrated by Winfield’s log-cutting approach to hitting. Starting with a discernible hitch, he took a ridiculously large swing, unfurling his long arms toward the ball in such an exaggerated way, almost like a cartoon character in an old Bugs Bunny clip. (One frame of that gargantuan swing can be seen on his 1985 Topps card, which is probably the best of all the Winfield cards.) Too many times, his bat ended up hurtling down the third base line, threatening the livelihood of the poor third base coach, or the fans watching from the box seats near the dugout. The bat-throwing underscored the criticism of his hitting in the clutch. Unlike Jackson, Winfield rarely seemed to deliver that late-inning, game-turning blow that could transform a Yankee loss into an unlikely win. To this day, I have trouble remembering any landmark home runs, or even extra-base hits, that Winfield delivered for the Yankees.

Just for fun, I decided to take a look at the “clutch” statistics for Winfield’s career. With two outs and runners in scoring position, he batted a mediocre .255 with a pedestrian .431 slugging percentage. In late and close situations, he hit a bit better, .266 with a slugging percentage of .444. In tie games, his numbers improved to .271 and .455. All in all, the numbers show Winfield to be a mediocre player in the clutch, not as good as his usual performance, a little better than what I might have thought, and hardly Herculean.

Beyond his playing ability, Winfield could raise eyebrows through his demeanor. Trying too hard to sound cool and hip, he came across as arrogant in interviews. Cocky and confident, he walked with an exaggerated strut that looked like a Hollywood caricature. When a Yankee beat writer asked him to attend a charity event, Winfield agreed, but only after coming up with enough demands to make a diva proud. If anything, Winfield was out of touch with the common man.

None of this means that Winfield damaged the Yankees. On balance, he helped the franchise, albeit during the frustrating decade of the 1980s. He was durable, almost always playing 140 or more games a season. He was consistent, four times slugging .500 or better in pinstripes, and six times reaching the 100-RBI mark. Clutch or not, the man always played hard, running out every ground ball with a World Series passion, taking out middle infielders on double play balls, and chasing full bore after every fly ball that he could reach in left and right field.

When Winfield came up for Hall of Fame election, I did not hesitate to offer my own imaginary vote. I would have immediately put a check next to his name on the ballot. The man put up Hall of Fame numbers, and did so for a long time, his big league career lasting 22 seasons. He was a gifted and hard-working five-tool athlete who hit with power, stole bases, and played a wonderful right field.

He might have been a little hard to root for on a personal level, but if Winfield were in his prime today, I’d gladly add him to the Yankees’ starting lineup. David Mark Winfield could play right field for a winning team any day of the week.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

Free agents have been treating Brian Cashman as if he were carrying around a suitcase filled with Confederate money. Cliff Lee turned away millions to go back to Philadelphia. Brandon Webb snubbed the Bronx to pitch for the defending American League champs. Superutilityman Bill Hall opted for more playing time with the Astros. Premier platoon man Matt Diaz did the same, signing with the lowly Pirates.

All of these players, to varying degrees, could have helped the Yankees. Yet, they all said no, either because they wanted greater roles with their new teams, or more comfortable environs, or they simply didn’t like New York. As a result, some critics have already dubbed this a winter of failure for the Yankees, but it’s too early to make such a stark characterization. While starting pitching is in short supply on both the free agent and trade markets, there is simply no reason why the Yankees cannot address other areas of concern, namely the bullpen and the bench.

In reference to the latter need, the most interesting name I’ve heard is Andruw Jones. It seems like a lifetime ago that Jones was taking Yankee pitching deep in the World Series. That was 14 years ago, when Jones was beginning the peak phase of his career. Jones is no longer the same player–the monster who hit 51 home runs with a .922 OPS in 2005–but that’s not to say that he is ready for retirement. Soon to be 34, Jones is still a useful player, one who would suit the Yankees quite nicely.

Playing as a No. 4 outfielder for the White Sox last season, Jones clubbed 19 home runs in only 328 at-bats. More pertinently, he reached base 37 per cent of the time against left-handers, while slugging .558 against those same southpaws. Those are awfully good numbers. His .931 OPS against lefties in 2010 actually exceeded Marcus Thames’ mark of .806. Furthermore, Jones’ defensive ability makes him a better fit for pinstripes. Thames is a liability anywhere you play him, but Jones still has enough speed to play center field on an occasional basis, and enough arm to play right field. He can easily handle left field, making him a candidate to platoon regularly with Brett “The Jet” Gardner.

Playing left field and batting eighth against left-handers, Andruw Jones would be a plus for the Yankees. He would raise the level of the Yankee bench, which is currently too young and too punchless. Hopefully, Cashman’s money won’t look so “Confederate” in the New Year.

***

This has been a particularly brutal year for baseball mortality. In fact, I can’t remember another year, at least not a recent one, in which so many notable baseball people passed away. We lost three Hall of Famers in Robin Roberts, Sparky Anderson and Bob Feller, and two legendary broadcasters in Ernie Harwell and Dave Niehaus. There have been many other departures, too, from Ron Santo and Bobby Thomson to Willie Davis and Mike Cuellar.

Perhaps no franchise has been touched more than the Yankees. The most famous owner in team history, George M. Steinbrenner, was felled by a heart attack. Two managers–Ralph Houk and Clyde King–left us. So did a longtime minor league manager, Frank Verdi, who also played one game for the Yankees. The list of departed players included the underrated Gil McDougald and the stylish Tom Underwood. The great Bob Sheppard, the voice of Yankee Stadium, also died. Even the New York media was hit hard. Writers Maury Allen, Vic Ziegel, and Bill Shannon, who covered the Yankee in one way, shape or form, all put down their pens for the last time.

For someone like me, who has been watching baseball avidly since the early 1970s, almost all of these deaths had a direct impact. The one exception was McDougald, who played before I was born, but nonetheless became a fixture through the wonders of Old-Timers Day. I remember many times when Yankee broadcasters mentioned that Shannon, who knew the rules inside-out, was the official scorer for that night’s game. I read the creative words of Allen and Ziegel in papers like the New York Post and the Daily News. I heard Sheppard’s dignified voice often, either in person or filtering through the television set. I watched Underwood pitch with smoothness and efficiency. I remember reading about Verdi’s work as a minor league skipper in the pages of The Sporting News. I watched the Yankees play for both Houk and King, two good baseball men. And I was there for every year that The Boss owned the team, starting all the way back in 1973.

As I get older, I feel that more and more of these passings affect me. Maybe that’s the price of aging. Sadly, we lose a little bit of Yankee lore with each death. At the same time, it’s important to keep remembering what each man did, and what he meant for baseball. Each one left a mark, and in good ways. And while we’re all remembering what they did, let’s hope that we don’t lose as many Yankees in 2011.

Bruce Markusen lives in Cooperstown, NY with his wife Sue and their daughter Madeline.

Over at The Hardball Times, I’ve been writing about my favorite baseball cards of all-time, a series that is coinciding with Topps’ countdown of the company’s 60 greatest cards. So naturally the whole process got me thinking of my favorite Yankee card ever. In the past, I’ve written about cards depicting Joe Pepitone (1968), Mickey Mantle (1969), Alex Johnson (1975), Cliff Johnson (1978), Aurelio Rodriguez (1981), John Mayberry (1983), Mike Easler (1987), Lance McCullers (1990 Score), and Matt Nokes (1991), among many others. Mantle’s was special because it was his final card. The Johnson card featured some odd airbrushing. The Rodriguez, Mayberry, and Easler cards all showcased the players with intriguing action shots. In some cases, I really enjoyed the card, or I really liked the player, and sometimes I liked both. But I don’t know that I would call any of these my favorite Yankee card.

After considering the question further, I thought I needed to pick an action card, since those have always been preferable to posed or portrait shots. It would need to be a card from one of Topps’ better sets, one with a good, perhaps innovative design. And it would certainly help if the card depicted one of my favorite Yankees. So using those three criteria, I arrived at this card as my choice:

Along with Bobby Murcer, Thurman Munson was the Yankee I felt most attached to during the 1970s. This card came out as part of Topps’ memorable 1971 set, which featured distinctive black borders. It was also the first Topps set to feature regular player cards in action shots. This was one of the best action photographs in that set, as Munson is shown, amidst a thick cloud of dirt, applying a tag to an unknown Oakland A’s player. I can only guess that the umpire called the runner out, based on the firm grip that Munson has on the ball and the position of his glove in relation to the runner. Whether the runner was out or not, the card captures Munson, a superb defensive catcher, guarding the plate in his usual attack-dog fashion. As an added bonus, Topps has included its trademark yellow trophy, signifying Munson’s status as a member of the Topps all-rookie team for the 1970 season.

So what’s your favorite Yankee card? You don’t have to pick a Topps card; it can be a Fleer, or a Donruss, or an Upper Deck. Any company is fine. Just pick a card, but more importantly, tell us why it’s No. 1 on your list.

And while you’re thinking about your favorite cards, be sure to have a Merry Christmas!

Bruce Markusen lives in Cooperstown, NY.

If you’re a fan from my generation, you face constant reminders that you’re approaching the unwanted status of “elder statesman.” Players that we remember watching are leaving us all too fast. Willie Davis died in the spring. So did Jim Bibby and Mike Cuellar. Earlier this month, former catcher-outfielder Ed Kirkpatrick passed away. And then came the news of the death of a former Yankee, Tom Underwood.

Tommy Underwood was hardly a household name to Yankee fans. He pitched only a season and a half in New York, back in 1980 and ‘81. But if you’re my age, 45 or older, then you likely have a distinct memory of Underwood. Whenever I hear his name, two words come immediately to mind: stylish left-hander. Underwood had one of those seamlessly smooth deliveries that I loved to imitate as a young boy growing up in Westchester County. He also liked to work fast, which made him doubly fun to watch.

I also remember Underwood for being part of an unusual starting rotation. In 1980, the Yankees featured four left-handed starters; in addition to Underwood, they had staff ace Ron Guidry, followed by Tommy John and the underrated Rudy May. (Luis Tiant was the lone right-hander.) As I recall, that’s the last time that a major league team had four fulltime lefty starters. The New York media made a huge deal of it at the time, and not for favorable reasons. Some writers said the Yankees were too left-handed–a strange complaint for a team playing at Yankee Stadium–and kept pushing for the Yankees to trade one of the left-handers for a competent righty. At the time, I bought into the theory, but in retrospect, it seems somewhat silly. If you have four good pitchers like Guidry, John, May, and Underwood, who cares if they all happen to be left-handed? In today’s game, most teams would kill to have two good lefties, not to mention a quartet of southpaws.

At one time, it appeared Underwood would blossom into stardom. Originally a top prospect in the Phillies’ system, Underwood made the Topps’ all-rookie team in 1975. He pitched even more effectively in 1976, but then fell into the pattern of inconsistency that plagued his career. After a bad start to the 1977 season, the Phillies sent him to the Cardinals as part of the package for speedy outfielder Bake McBride. The Cards soon sent him packing to the expansion Blue Jays for Pete Vuckovich. Underwood led Toronto in strikeouts two years running, but his periodic wildness frustrated the Blue Jays’ brass. That’s why they decided to include the 26-year-old southpaw in the trade that also brought Rick Cerone to the Yankees for Chris Chambliss and two prospects.

It didn’t take long for Underwood to impress Yankee fans with his fast pitching pace, his silky delivery, and his live fastball, which seemed to sneak up on hitters. He also had a nasty slider; on days that he could throw it for strikes, he became nearly unhittable. Emerging as a highly effective No. 4 starter behind Guidry, John, and May, Underwood won 13 games for Dick Howser’s 1980 Yankees. I thought that kind of performance would be a springboard to greater success–the kind of success the Phillies had once foreseen–but Underwood started the 1981 season flatly. With Dave Righetti now ready to join the rotation, the Yankees decided to make a move. Trading Underwood at the valley of his value, the Yankees foolishly included him with Jim Spencer in a package for the underachieving Dave “The Rave” Revering.

After pitching as a swingman during the second half of the 1981 season, Underwood put together his most effective season in 1982. Again splitting his time between the bullpen and the rotation, Underwood forged a career best ERA of 3.29, won ten games, and saved seven others for Billy Martin, who liked his versatility and willingness to pitch in any role.

Underwood’s performance slipped in 1983, which happened to coincide with the end of his contract. Although still only 29, the talented lefty drew little interest on the free agent market; he signed a one-year contract with the Orioles. At the end of one lackluster season in the Baltimore bullpen, Underwood drew his release. And then– nothing. Underwood, all of thirty years old, saw his major league career come to an end.

I’m not sure why Underwood’s career ended so abruptly. In retrospect, it’s shocking that a left-hander with his talent did not pitch past his 30th birthday, not when we see some lefties stick around till their early forties simply because they happen to be lefties.

Much like Underwood’s pitching career, his life ended at a young age. Underwood died on Monday at 56, the victim of a long struggle with pancreatic cancer. Like too many of his baseball brethren from the 1970s and eighties, he left us way too soon.

Yet, Tom Underwood succeeded in making an impression on this Yankee fan. He left me with some good memories, for which I am grateful. In the end, I guess that’s all we can ask from our ballplayers.

Bruce Markusen writes “Cooperstown Confidential” for The Hardball Times.

A quick scan of the newly released Veterans Committee ballot, featuring candidates from the Expansion Era, reveals a “who’s who” of Yankee baseball during the 1970s and eighties. Two left-handed aces, Ron Guidry and Tommy John, highlight the list of players. The managerial pool is represented by five-time Yankee skipper Billy Martin. Former Yankee executive Pat Gillick, who is best known for putting together championship teams in Toronto and Philadelphia, can also be found on the ballot. And let us not forget about the highly anticipated presence of the late George Steinbrenner, who arrives on the ballot for the first time.

So let’s take the Hall of Fame cases of each candidate, one by one. At his peak, which ran from 1977 to 1981, Guidry qualified as a Cooperstown-caliber pitcher. But then there was too much inconsistency in the early eighties, followed by a quick three-year decline from 1986 to 1988. Unfortunately, when Guidry lost his king-sized fastball, he never made the successful transition to a breaking ball, change-of-speeds pitcher. If only Guidry had enjoyed more longevity, he might have stretched his career win total from 170 to 200-plus and made himself a worthier candidate for the Hall of Fame. A very fine pitcher and a legitimate ace, but not quite Cooperstown material.

John was just the opposite of Guidry. He had the longevity, 26 seasons worth, which was particularly remarkable given that his left arm was ravaged and then rebuilt through the surgical procedure that now bears his name. Unlike Guidry, John lacked the kind of dominant stretch that would have made him a Hall of Famer. John was a very good pitcher from 1977 to 1980, twice finishing second in his league’s Cy Young Award voting, but he was never regarded as one of the top two or three pitchers in the game. That’s what happens when you lack the power out-pitch and the big strikeout totals, something that was incompatible with his reliance on sinkers and sliders. In many ways, John was the Andy Pettitte of his era, a legitimate No. 2 starter and an occasional ace, but without Pettitte’s extensive postseason resume.

On to this year’s managerial candidate, the fascinating and bizarre Billy Martin. I’m always tempted to vote for Martin because of his baseball brilliance, his innovation, his preference for a daring, breakneck style of play. I’ve often said that if I needed to win one game, just one game, without regard for tomorrow, Martin would be my choice to manage. But such a narrow criteria does not fit the breadth of a Hall of Fame candidacy, where long-term outcomes matter. In the short run, few managers produced better results than Billy the Kid. Almost all of Martin’s teams showed significant improvement when he began a new managerial tenure. The records of his teams in his first season—and sometimes in the second season—improved dramatically. Unfortunately, none of the turnarounds endured in the long run. By the third season, Martin had clashed with the front office or alienated too many of his players, with several taking residence in his overcrowded doghouse. The bottom line on Martin is this: one world championship, as the Bronx burned in 1977, does not a Hall of Famer make.

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The death of Clyde King earlier this week did not generate national headlines. Nor did it rank quite as newsworthy as the subsequent passing of Sparky Anderson, a legend among Hall of Fame managers. But the death of King struck a chord with this writer, who remembers how he tried to restore some sanity to the frenetic whirlwind that enveloped the Yankees during the 1980s.

Before discussing King’s value as the Yankee general manager in the 1980s, his story is worth telling in other regards. Though he was a southerner who hailed from Carolina, King became one of the Brooklyn Dodgers to openly accept an African American named Jackie Robinson as one of his teammates. With allies like King and Pee Wee Reese, life became a little bit easier for Robinson, who faced more than his share of dislike from opponents, fans, and even a few of his teammates. King didn’t care about the color of Robinson’s skin, and didn’t much care for the Jim Crow laws of the 1940s. With an open mind, King accepted Robinson as his teammate and close friend; that’s what mattered to King.

As a pitcher, King had a couple of decent seasons pitching middle relief for the Dodgers, but his career amounted to little more than mediocrity. Where he lacked physical talent, he made up with a knowledge of mechanics and pitching grips. He became a successful pitching coach, before earning managerial jobs with the Giants and Braves. In becoming the only man to manage both Willie Mays and Hank Aaron at the big league level, King kept flawed teams in San Francisco and Atlanta above .500. In spite of a lack of pitching depth, he led the 1969 Giants to a 90-win season. He did similar wonders during the second half of 1974, guiding the pitching-thin Braves to a .603 winning percentage after replacing Eddie Mathews in mid-stride.

The Yankee chapter of King’s long career in baseball began in 1976, when George Steinbrenner hired him to work in the front office. “The Boss” quickly took a liking to the affable and professorial King, who impressed the owner with his vast knowledge of pitching. Critics of King knocked him for licking the boots of The Boss, and for allegedly serving as the owner’s spy, but he showed versatility in undertaking any task assigned him: advisor, super scout, pitching coach, manager.

King did his best work for the Yankees when he was given the most authority. That came in the middle of the 1984 season, when Steinbrenner promoted him to general manager, replacing the overmatched Murray Cook. Shortly after becoming GM, King sent an aging Roy Smalley to the White Sox for a player to be named later, who turned out to be future ace Doug Drabek. The trade served as an omen of more good trades to come.

The Yankees finished with 87 wins that season, but King recognized that the offense, the catching, the bench and the bullpen all needed a boost. As he prepared for the winter meetings in Houston, King developed a detailed and systematic plan of attack to rebuild the bombers. On the first day of the winter meetings, King acquired platoon catcher Ron Hassey and backup outfielder Henry Cotto from the Cubs for spare parts Brian Dayett and Ray Fontenot. Hassey gave the Yankees a strong, left-handed hitting catcher, while Cotto’s speed and defense served him well as a fifth outfielder. On the second day, King made major headlines when he finalized a deal for the game’s best leadoff man, Rickey Henderson. The trade cost the Yankees a young ace in Jose Rijo, but it also gave them a dynamic presence at the top of a lineup that already featured Don Mattingly and Dave Winfield. That same day, King stole hard-throwing right-hander Brian Fisher from the Braves, giving up only journeyman catcher Rick Cerone in return. Fisher would give the Yankees an imposing set-up man fronting closer Dave Righetti.

Not satisfied with his Houston haul, King continued to do fine work that winter. He dumped two past-their-prime veterans, Steve Kemp and Tim Foli, on the Pirates, netting future star Jay Buhner in return. Except for the Buhner deal, every one of King’s trades benefited the Yankees directly in 1985. With their offense and bullpen greatly improved, the Yankees won 97 games, their best showing of the decade, but only good enough to finish second behind a powerhouse Blue Jays team that claimed 99 victories.

King took a less aggressive approach during the winter, while trying to promote younger players like Drabek, Dennis Rasmussen, Bob Tewksbury, and slugger Dan Pasqua from within the organization. As the 1986 season progressed, Steinbrenner grew jealous of the accolades being sent King’s way. The Boss became more meddlesome, putting pressure on King to make an unwise trade that sent Don Baylor to the Red Sox for Mike Easler. Growing tired of Steinbrenner’s jealousy and interference, King decided to step aside as general manager at the end of a 90-win season and return to the peaceful existence of being a trusted front office advisor.

Given his track record, I think it’s fair to regard King as the Yankees’ most effective general manager of the 1980s. If he had remained in power, it’s possible that the Yankees would not have traded Buhner, Drabek, Tewksbury, and other promising youngsters for fading veterans. With King in control, the Yankees might have avoided the embarrassments of the 1989 and 1990 seasons, when the franchise became a laughingstock.

As it turned out, King lost out on his chance for fame and glory, and transitioned into relative obscurity. That didn’t seem to bother King, who remained one of the game’s great storytellers. Always recognizable in his trademark horn-rimmed glasses, he loved to talk baseball, never turning down requests for interviews, and ceaselessly spinning his tales in his friendly southern drawl.

Sadly, we won’t be able to hear those stories directly from the source anymore. Yet, many of those stories can be found in a book that King co-authored, called A King’s Legacy. And even though he’s gone now, we shouldn’t forget that Clyde King was just about the best thing going for the Yankee front office during those wild times of the 1980s.

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When thinking of former Yankee managers, Clyde King is hardly the first name that comes to mind. But when it comes to former Yankee skippers who devoted their lives to the game, while doing so with intelligence, enthusiasm, and style, King’s name should be placed near the top of the list. One of the few men who served George Steinbrenner as both manager and general manager, King died Tuesday from heart-related problems. King was 86.

With baseball ravaged by World War II, King made his major league debut as a right-hander with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1944. He returned to the minor leagues after the war, but eventually returned to Brooklyn, becoming a contributor to the Dodgers’ staff in the late forties and early fifties. While with the Dodgers, King became close friends with Jackie Robinson, the first African American to play in the major leagues during the 20th century. The friendship surprised some, given the southern heritage of the Carolina-born King, but it was emblematic of his open-minded, outgoing, and accepting nature.

After his playing days came to an end with the Reds in 1953, King became a successful minor league manager with teams like the Atlanta Crackers and the Hollywood Stars. Noted for his knowledge of pitching, King turned to coaching with the Reds and Pirates, a springboard to his first big league managerial post in San Francisco, followed by a later stint with the Braves. As a manager, King forged a record five games better than .500, at 234-229.

King joined the Yankee front office in 1976, quickly becoming a trusted confidante of Steinbrenner. He remained with the Yankees for the next three decades, serving alternately as a super scout, coach, manager, general manager, and special advisor. King became one of Steinbrenner’s go-to men, a troubleshooter who would fill any capacity requested by the principal owner.

King moved into the Yankee spotlight in the middle of the 1982 season, when he became the team’s third manager that summer, succeeding Bob Lemon and Gene “Stick“ Michael. Under King’s leadership, the Yankees limped to a 29-33 finish. Several of the veteran Yankees claimed that he was actually a spy for Steinbrenner, a charge that King denied.

After the season, the Yankees bumped King back to the front office. In the mid-1980s, with the Yankee front office in a state of constant turmoil and upheaval, Steinbrenner turned to King to run the entire baseball operation. He promoted King to general manager, giving him [relatively] full authority to make trades and sign free agents. King impressed a number of Yankee watchers at the 1984 winter meetings. Coming to the meetings with a detailed and organized plan, King engineered a blockbuster trade for Hall of Fame leadoff man Rickey Henderson. King also swung lesser trades for useful role players like Ron Hassey and Henry Cotto, and stole hard-throwing reliever Brian Fisher from the Braves for a declining Rick Cerone. (After the winter meetings, King also acquired a young Jay Buhner from the Pirates in exchange for the washed up pair of Steve Kemp and Tim Foli.) Bolstered by the wintertime pickups, the Yankees improved by ten games in 1985, winning 97 games. Unfortunately, the Yankees ran second to a powerhouse Blue Jays team that won 99 games and claimed the American League East.

Some historians, including this one, regard King as the Yankees’ most effective general manager of the 1980s, but that stature did not prevent him from being fired in 1986. Now demoted, King returned to being a lesser known member of the front office. Whether working in a position of power or simply serving as a scout, King also developed a reputation as one of the game’s great storytellers. Always approachable, King loved to talk baseball, spinning his tales in his trademark southern drawl.

Along the way, King managed to accomplish something that few others can claim. He somehow worked for 30 years under the imposing thumb of George Steinbrenner, before finally retiring in 2005. If nothing else, lasting that long while working for “The Boss” should earn Clyde King at least half of a plaque here in Cooperstown.

For too long, I used to think that Oscar Azocar epitomized the ineptitude of the Yankee teams of the early 1990s. A free swinger to the point of hapless extreme, Azocar struggled so much in trying to reach first base that I considered him synonymous with Yankee failure during that era. I felt bad about that continuing assessment this past June, when I learned that Azocar had died suddenly and unexpectedly from a heart attack at the age of 45. I only felt worse when I started to read about Azocar, learning more about a hustling ballplayer, a fun-loving teammate, and a delightful guy.

As a rookie for the Yankees in 1990, Azocar stepped up to the plate 218 times. Swinging the bat from a pronounced crouch, he offered at almost any pitch within the general proximity of the batter’s boxes. In one stretch, he came to bat seven consecutive times without taking a single pitch. Not one! By season’s end, Azocar had coaxed a grand total of two walks. For awhile, he had more sacrifice flies than walks, which resulted in his batting average being temporarily higher than his on-base percentage.

While it’s true that Azocar didn’t walk and didn’t hit with any tangible power, he did play the game with a level of passion not normally exhibited by staid and stolid major leaguers. When Azocar played left field, he made sure to involve himself, even when the ball was not hit in his direction. On a batted ball to another outfielder or infielder, Azocar would make a hellish dash toward third base, so that he would be in position to back up his third baseman on a possible overthrow. It didn’t matter if the chances of there being a play at third were infinitesimal; Azocar wanted to be there, just in case. Azocar did something similar when runners from first base attempted to steal second base. If the catcher’s throw tricked into center field, Azocar would back up third base in the event of a second overthrow.

Some of the veteran Yankees noticed Azocar’s habit of running furiously toward third base. Perhaps unwilling to face their own mediocrity as ballplayers, they poked fun at Azocar. A few Yankees asked Azocar why he did this. Looking a bit bewildered, Azocar thought for a moment and then replied in his heavy Venezuelan accent: “Because that’s what I’m supposed to do.” And, you know what, Azocar was right. He didn’t have anything else to do on the play, so he might as well put himself to use–just in case.

In addition to his perpetual hustle, Azocar exhibited other good habits on defense. He tracked fly balls well and usually hit the cutoff man with his throws. Best utilized as a left fielder, Azocar had enough speed to dabble in center field, at least on a fill-in basis. He could also handle right field, though his arm strength was something less extraordinary than that of Jesse Barfield. Or even an injured Dave Winfield.

Azocar could run the bases, too. Though hardly a blazer, Azocar knew how to read pitchers and steal bases. Over parts of three major league seasons, including a pair with the Padres, Azocar stole ten times without being caught, setting an unofficial major league record.

Still, there was much more to Azocar. He loved to smile. He smiled during games. He smiled and laughed in the dugout. He smiled before games. Azocar simply loved playing baseball, along with the experience of being around the ballpark. With his upbeat and enthusiastic approach, Azocar became a wonderful teammate. He was no Mel Hall, who spent much of his time sticking pins in Bernie Williams dolls. Azocar just seemed delighted to be hanging around a major league setting, spending time with players ranging from Don Mattingly to Bye-Bye Balboni to Bam-Bam Meulens.

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I find myself torn on the issue of Joe Girardi returning to manage the Yankees in 2011. If the Yankees can complete a comeback over the next two days and make it back to the World Series, then I suppose that the Yankees will make every effort to re-sign him. Two Series appearances in two years, along with a general approval rating from his players, should be enough for Girardi to begin his fourth season as Yankee manager. Then again, for all of his intelligence and attention to preparation, Girardi continues to show an alarming lack of feel for in-game managing, a trait that could cost the Yankees dearly during the string of short series that make up the postseason.

Girardi’s dubious strategies took center stage in Game Four of the ALCS, when the Yankees coughed up a 3-2 lead on their way to a disastrous 10-3 loss. Mark Teixeira’s strained hamstring forced Girardi into making an unwanted move–replacing his star first baseman with a pinch-runner during a budding rally. Girardi had several choices. He could have summoned his fastest runner, Greg Golson, who could have taken over in right field, with Nick Swisher moving to first base. Or he could have tapped Austin Kearns, a decent runner and capable right fielder. Instead, Girardi called on Marcus Thames, a relatively slow runner (who hasn’t stolen a base since 2007) and a brutal defender in the outfield.

So what was Girardi thinking? He probably wanted to maintain a good hitter in Teixeira’s spot in the batting order, hence the decision to summon Thames. Unfortunately, that left Thames, the team’s worst fielding outfielder, having to play right field in the sixth inning of a one-run game. Lo and behold, Vlad Guerrero led off the sixth with a single to right on a ball that conceivably could have been caught by the swifter Golson or the more agile Kearns.

The better move would have been to play Golson or Kearns in right field through the next turn in the batting order. At that point, Girardi could have used Thames, or even Jorge Posada, as a pinch-hitter. Or he could have used Thames to pinch-hit for Lance Berkman when the Rangers brought in lefty Derek Holland. Bottom line, Girardi needed to think quickly in pinch-running for the injured Teixeira, and he chose the worst available option. It was as if Girardi was worried about running out of players, even with three backup outfielders at his disposal.

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The Yankees and the Rangers faced off three times in the postseason during the 1990s, with the pinstripes winning each of the Division Series matchups. Yet, a good argument can be made that the Yankees avoided having to face the best team in Rangers’ franchise history. That would have been the 1977 Rangers, who won 94 games but finished a distant second in the American League West. Instead of facing the Rangers, the Yankees squared off against a very fine Royals team managed by Whitey Herzog. We know the Yankees ended up winning that Championship Series in five games, but it’s interesting to consider what might have been against a very good group of ‘77 Rangers, who were recently profiled by longtime Star Telegram baseball writer Jim Reeves.

First and foremost, the Rangers had a dominant defensive team in 1977. Their catcher, the strong-armed Jim Sundberg, ranks as one of the greatest fielding receivers of all-time. The Texas infield, spearheaded by Mike Hargrove at first base and veteran Bert Campaneris at shortstop, provided reliable, sure handed fielding and adequate range. In the outfield, center fielder Juan Beniquez won the Gold Glove, while flanked capably by the speedy Claudell Washington in left field.

The Rangers’ defensive scheme supported a very good pitching staff, which stood behind only the Yankees and the Royals in the league rankings. Unlike their teams in the 1990s, the ‘77 Rangers had excellent starting pitching. They had a Hall of Fame ace in Gaylord Perry, a future Hall of Famer in Bert Blyleven (yes, he will make Cooperstown in January), a very capable junkballer in Doyle Alexander, and an efficient Dock Ellis, who pitched to the tune of a 2.90 ERA after joining the team in a mid-season trade with the A‘s. In a short best-of-five series (the format for the LCS in the 1970s), the Rangers’ front four would have been difficult to handle, though their lack of a left-handed starter might have been a concern against a lefty-laden Yankee team.

The Rangers, however, did not have nearly the same level of strength in the bullpen. Mike Marshall would have been their relief ace under normal circumstances, but injuries limited him to 12 appearances. Left-hander Paul Lindblad, normally a fine reliever, struggled through one of his worst campaigns. So the Rangers turned to journeyman right-hander Adrian Devine, who won 11 games and saved 15 others, but was hardly a dominant fireman, striking out a mere 67 batters in 105 innings. In front of Devine, the Rangers featured two competent left-handers in Darold Knowles and Rogelio “Roger” Moret, and a 21-year-old Len Barker, who had not yet established himself as a starting pitcher. All in all, a fairly mediocre bullpen.

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