HERE’S TO YOU, YOGI

Hello Fans,

Yesterday, we lost one of the most loveable public figures the sport of baseball has ever seen.  Sadly, Yogi Berra passed away at the age of 90 on the very same date that he broke into the majors back in ’46.  I do not think that is ironic nor coincidental.  I think that’s how it was supposed to be.  He was a New York Yankee for life (never mind the four games played in ’65 and ’72-’75 managing stint for the Mets).

Although I had unknowingly received a text this morning at 5:45 a.m. EST from my sis, I first learned of the news shortly after six a.m. via a quick radio sound byte as my wife and I were getting up and around.  It seems fitting to have been updated about Yogi over the airwaves considering that he represents not only all things good in baseball, but also its ‘Golden Era’ as many historians and commentators alike deem the post-WWII and 1950s years when Berra and companies were made larger than life via talented and descriptive ‘air’ men.  Out of respect for a pure response to fill up this page, I avoided any and all stories and tributes to Yogi all day and night.  Unlike radio, I can catch up on them later.

Sometime early in my high school days, I read Yogi’s autobiography (with Tom Horton) ‘It Ain’t Over’.  I was and am captivated.  Not by his World Series championships or his Fall Classic perfect game caught or any of those types of fanfares.  He was a humble guy who respected people.  As his career was just getting established, he married Carmen in ’48, and they stayed together until her death just last year.  He was a regular guy who just happened to be a great baseball player and play on its biggest stage in perhaps the biggest era.  Thinking of his stories of growing up on ‘the hill’ in a largely Italian-American neighborhood in St. Louis still make me feel like a kid who could go round up the fellas for a game of ball.

I got a chance to meet Yogi in Cooperstown.  Twice actually.  Got autographs and pictures too.  The first time was in 2004 on Hall of Fame weekend.  He was seated at a table in a hotel lobby with tons of fans like myself and seven or eight other HOFers around the room.  Really nice guy.  Quiet guy.  Much smaller than the other former big leaguers, especially the likes of Johnny Bench, Gary Carter, and Carlton Fisk.  Those three guys looked like they could have played football as well.

Until Carter’s passing a couple of years ago, and now Yogi’s, the four of them were the only living Catcher HOFers.  Like The Beatles, The Doors, and The Who, now we only have two.  Being a good catcher may be the easiest way to the big leagues, but it’s the hardest way to C-town with a population of just thirteen.  It’s no surprise that Yogi joined that class in ’72 on just his second year on the ballot.  Over 2,100 hits, 358 HRs, and 1,430 RBI speak loudly when you’re the guy who runs the game.

True rock legends know how to close out a show.  And with those ten rings, twelve W.S. homers, seventy-five W.S. games played, and three regular season MVPs, no one did it more often or better than Yogi.  Besides, he’s the guy who figured out that “all pitchers are liars or crybabies”.

Later Baseball Fans.