An Afternoon with Yogi

He walks more gingerly than he used to, and he talks more softly than he once did. But his smile, his sense of humor, and his easygoing manner are all still there, as they’ve been for the 65 years that he’s been in the public eye.

I got the chance to meet Yogi Berra yesterday, thanks to the generosity of a friend and colleague. My friend Hedy invited me to the Yogi Berra Museum & Learning Center on the campus of Montclair State University to watch the 86-year-old Yankee legend respond to interviews from high school students, as part of a sports broadcasting camp. The camp, which Hedy helps coordinate, is run by her brother, David Siroty, as well as sports journalists Bruce Beck, Ian Eagle, Dave Popkin and Mike Quick. It’s an extraordinarily impressive camp, as evidenced by the quality of the students’ work and the dedication of the experienced teachers.

So as a guest of the camp, I sat in the auditorium of Yogi’s museum and watched him sit down in a white folding chair, a Yankees cap atop his head and a Yankees jacket over his polo shirt. He held his cane in his hands and listened closely to every student’s question.

It was fascinating to watch Yogi handle the questions. Sometimes, he’d give a direct answer, such as when one student asked, “Yogi, was Jackie Robinson safe or – ” “Out!” the former catcher barked before that question could even be completed. Robinson’s famous steal of home during Game One of the 1955 World Series between the Yankees and Brooklyn Dodgers still stokes the competitive fire within Berra. Another student asked, “Yogi, what did you tell Derek Jeter after his 3,000th hit?” Yogi: “I told him it was about time.”

Most of Yogi’s answers, though, were not as direct. More often than not, Yogi took the student’s question as more of an invitation to tell a story. Somewhere in that story was an answer to the question. But in essence, the question was more of an opportunity for Yogi to reminisce. For instance, after sharing his humorous compliment to Jeter about that 3,000th hit, Yogi then started telling the students that he’s also joked with Jeter in the past about swinging at (and missing) high fastballs: “I asked him, ‘Why did you swing at those high ones?’ ” Yogi recalled. “[Jeter] said, ‘Well, you swung at them.’ I said, ‘Yeah, but I hit them.’ ” When asked about his batting style, Yogi didn’t speak about his three MVP awards or his 358 home runs. Instead, he brought us back to 1950, and told us that he’d come to bat 597 times that year and struck out only 12 times. He said he retired in 1965 after just nine at-bats because he struck out three times in one game. That’s how he knew it was time. “I retired that day,” he said.

When asked about his best and worst moments with George Steinbrenner, Yogi smiled, sighed, and brought his listeners back to the early 1980s. He told stories about young players whom the late Yankees owner traded away (such as outfielder Willie McGee) or threatened to demote (such as Dave Righetti). Yogi eventually got around to sharing his good moments with Steinbrenner, but only after telling us that Willie McGee (who retired when these students were toddlers) was a great talent, and that he was traded to the Cardinals for a pitcher named Bob Sykes. McGee smacked more than 2,000 hits in his career, while Sykes never pitched a game for New York. Yogi remembers that.

It’s the details like this – McGee for Sykes – that always amaze me when I’m listening to one of my elders talk. For years, the vivid storyteller in my life was my grandfather, Warren Mueller. Many of my grandfather’s stories were about baseball, too, as he played professionally in the Boston Braves’ minor-league system during the 1940s, then played semipro ball for years afterward. My brother and I would ask my grandfather so many questions about his playing days, and he’d remember the details of a game in 1944 better than he could recall what he’d eaten for breakfast that day. He always seemed grateful that his grandchildren wanted to know so much about his life, and he never stopped telling us stories. He told us about the tryout he had with the Brooklyn Dodgers at age 18, about the games he pitched with the Hartford Senators in 1944 and ’45, about the exhibition game in which he pitched against Joe DiMaggio in ‘46, and about the flourishing semipro baseball scene on Staten Island in the 1940s (done in by television, he’d always say). Just two days before he died, my grandfather told me for the first time that he’d pitched against Jimmie Foxx.

Warren Mueller has been gone for almost five years. My brother and I miss his voice, his laugh, and the stories he told. I didn’t know what to expect from yesterday’s visit to hear Yogi Berra – I’m not really big on star-gazing, and I had plenty of interviews with famous people during my work as a journalist. But what I ended up hearing from Yogi was some of my grandfather’s voice inside of his. Sure, the details were different, and they involved the most famous team in the history of American sport. But the rhythm and the purpose for these stories were the same.

All the campers and teachers took pictures with Yogi afterward, and David got me in for a photo as well. My photo looks silly, as I’m not posing and smiling for the camera. Instead, I’m standing there talking with Yogi. I shook his hand, introduced myself, and blurted out a few sentences about how much I appreciated the job he had done managing the 1984 Yankees. That team was out of contention early and brought up their best prospects in the summer for a long audition. I was 13, and at the apex of my childhood fascination with baseball. “You let the kids play,” I told Yogi, “just like the Mets have to do this year.” He smiled back, and said something that I couldn’t hear amid the din of the auditorium.

It may seem strange that I botched a photo with Yogi Berra. But I think I know what was going on there. I wasn’t really trying to talk with Yogi in that moment. I think I was just trying to get in a few more words with my grandfather.

Yogi, I’m sure, understood. When one student asked him how he felt about being honored at Yogi Berra Day more than 10 years ago, the man in the Yankees cap started to choke up as he remembered the day. “I’m getting emotional right now,” he said.

Mortality is more real and lasting than any home run or tag at the plate. That’s why we tell stories, and that’s why we listen.

Programming Hope (One Sixty-Two: Day 159)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day One Hundred Fifty-Nine: Brian Matusz, Baltimore Orioles

In the fall of 1984, I learned how to perform basic programming on my Commodore 64 computer. I could craft a program in which users were asked a question, to which they would be asked to type their own response. The program would then give an (A) or (B) answer based on whether or not the user had given the correct response.

For the topic of this program, I chose the 1985 New York Yankees. The fact that I had crafted a computer program about baseball was completely unsurprising to anyone who knew me. But why was I making this program about the following year’s Yankee team? After all, we still had a few more months of ’84 yet to live. The Detroit Tigers had yet to defeat the San Diego Padres handily in the World Series. And Ronald Reagan had yet to defeat Walter Mondale even more handily in the presidential election. Why was this obsessive 13-year-old looking ahead so eagerly?

It was all about the way things were ending in the South Bronx that year; I was excited about the future. The Yankees, who had started miserably that year, finished strong under manager Yogi Berra to the tune of 87 wins. I had seen a lot of young, pinstriped players bloom in the ’84 season. Therefore, my wacky new program asked the user which player he or she thought would start at each position for the Yankees the next year. If you selected the player I agreed with, the program told you so. If I disagreed, it gave you a different answer.

So if you answered the question, “Who do you think will play shortstop for the Yankees next year?” with the answer “Bobby Meacham,” the program responded by telling you that I expected Andre Robertson to start at short instead. If you answered my question about first base with the words “Don Mattingly,” you were greeted with enthusiastic agreement.

Young players like Robertson, Mattingly, Mike Pagliarulo and Joe Cowley had helped the team post a 51-29 record in the season’s second half. Like many kids with “NY” logos on their caps, I was pretty pumped about the year ahead. Most of the other fans could contain their obsession enough to avoid creating Commodore 64 programs about the Yankees. But I guess we all have our passions – and quirks.

This evening, I thought about that autumn of 26 years ago while looking at the standings and noticing how well the Baltimore Orioles have played since Buck Showalter took over as manager. The O’s seemed destined for an utterly miserable season in late July, but the hiring of Showalter on July 29 has given the Maryland faithful a lot of reasons to hope. The former Yankees, Diamondbacks and Rangers manager has steered Baltimore to a 30-22 record over the past two months. Young Orioles pitchers and position players who’ve had the words “potential” stamped on their foreheads for some time have finally started playing quality major-league ball, and they’ve won ballgames as a result. Left-handed pitcher Brian Matusz, for instance, has gone 6-1 with seven quality starts since Showalter took over the reins. A first-round draft pick two years ago, Matusz is the future ace of this club, and he appears ready to fill that role as soon as next season.

So the fans are getting excited in Baltimore again, and Buck Showalter is spoken of glowingly in conversations at Inner Harbor restaurants these days. As for the kids at home, they’ve already started dreaming of a return to the playoffs for the boys in orange and black. I don’t think many of those kids own a Commodore 64, and even if they did I don’t think they’d use it for Orioles starting-lineup quizzes.

But whatever they do, the youngsters who cheer for the Baltimore Orioles have more than a few reasons to think about the spring of 2011. You can’t program a winning season, but you can recognize something good when you see it. Now, Orioles fans, let’s get started – who should Buck start at first base?

Who's All Washed Up? (One Sixty-Two: Day 139)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day One Hundred Thirty-Nine: Jim Thome, Minnesota Twins (via Derek Jeter)

There’s been a lot of talk lately about Derek Jeter’s performance on the field, and whether or not the Yankee captain is beginning to experience an erosion of baseball skills. My thoughts on this are clouded by my fondness for the Yankees, of course, but as a baseball fan I’d say we underestimate a player like Jeter at our own peril. When you’ve performed at such a high level for so many years, a late-summer slump is probably not a sign that you’re finished. It’s likely just a slump.

Of course, Jeter’s situation is clouded by the fact that his gigantic 10-year contract comes to an end after this season, and he will be a free agent. The issue is not whether or not he’ll resign with the Yankees; New York knows it cannot let the face of the franchise go anywhere. The question is what kind of contract he signs. It’s important that the Yankees not play cheap with this man for a couple of reasons: First of all, Jeter should have plenty of superb baseball left in the tank; and secondly, his future impact on the team will not be felt solely during his time as a player.

First of all, keeping Number 2 in pinstripes assures that the Yankees-Jeter brand will last for as long as Jeter lives. Both teams have much to gain in terms of revenue and prestige from this partnership, just as the Yankees have experienced with men such as Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra. Secondly, it’s certainly possible that Jeter will decide he wants to manage someday, and I’m sure he’d be tremendous at it. If I were the Yankees, I’d want him managing in the South Bronx, rather than anywhere else. So what is to gain by trying to lowball Jeter’s contract this winter when you’re hoping that he leads to you future championships both during and after his playing days?

Some guys are just built to produce and win, and they exude a leadership that the rest of the team feeds off of every day. Jim Thome is another such example. Thome turned 40 a few days ago, and it’s true that he plays better now when he gets some extra rest. But last season, when Thome’s season home-run total dropped below 30 for the first time in a full season since 1995, the word on the street was that his days of glory were behind him.

So, as most American League teams looked elsewhere for designated hitters, the Minnesota Twins looked for Thome. In just 241 at-bats this season – the equivalent of a half-season – the lefty slugger has 22 homers. That, by the way, gives him 586 in his career. Oh, and as his Twins are surging toward the playoffs, Thome leant a hand this week with four home runs in three games. A strong September in Minnesota will give Thome the ninth postseason appearance of his illustrious career.

So, you know, go ahead and say the guy is a liability because he can’t play the field anymore, and because he doesn’t hit lefties as well these days. The Twins would love it if you keep knocking the guy, because then they might be able to sign him for less money again next year. And he’ll punch another 20 or more home runs over the wall – often in the late innings of late summer, when lesser players shrink under the pressure.

Jim Thome and Derek Jeter will both retire someday; they are mortal, after all. And they’ll stand in Cooperstown one July afternoon as well, holding their Hall of Fame plaques for the cameras. At that point, there will still be some people debating just how good they were in their later years. But neither man will be listening. They’ll just be smiling.

All I Have to Do is Dream (One Sixty-Two: Day 128)

Writer’s note: One Sixty-Two is a season-long series of blog posts connecting baseball’s major-league players to life’s universal themes. Just as there are 162 games in a season, so there will be 162 posts in this series. Let’s play some ball.

Day One Hundred Twenty-Eight: Jason Varitek, Boston Red Sox

I’ve heard a lot of noise in recent days about who should be allowed to worship in what portion of New York City. I’ve also noticed that some very loud individuals have claimed the 47th anniversary of the Civil Rights Movement’s March on Washington to put forth their own vision for America.

These voices sound a lot more insular than inclusive, and it was my impression that acceptance and equality were important ideals in this country. So maybe it was my anger at all of this noise that produced my own dream this afternoon as I snatched a rare mid-afternoon nap in the hammock. I did have a dream and, my brothers and sisters, I think I will share it with you.

As so many great dreams do, this one took place in Montclair, N.J. It involved baseball (what a shock!), and a legendary old man. The Yogi Berra Museum & Learning Center, located on the campus of Montclair State University, currently has an exhibit devoted to New York Yankees captain Derek Jeter. But in my dream, the Jeter exhibit had drawn to a close, and the legendary Yankee for whom this museum is named stood before a podium and announced that he was opening a new exhibit. This one, he said, would be devoted to players in the modern day who had excelled at his position, catcher. And, Yogi said, there would be an entire wall in the exhibit dedicated to Boston Red Sox catcher and captain Jason Varitek.

The response to this announcement was, in a word, bedlam. Yankees fans protested loudly outside the museum, outside Yankee Stadium, and outside the team’s Spring Training base in Tampa, Fla. “This is giving our enemies justification for their existence!” one fan blogged. ““Yogi: It’s Over!” another tweeted. The evening news trucks found a fan who compared this exhibit to opening a Fenway Franks hot dog stand two blocks from Yankee Stadium. Even Newt Gingrich got into the act, speaking about the “historic ignorance of baseball elites.”

But, in my dream, Yogi said he didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “It’s déjà vu all over again,” Yogi said. “Every time we’re afraid of something, we reject it with so much hatred that we lose our ideals. We’ve been doing it since Salem, Massachusetts, more than 300 years ago. Why can’t we honor a Red Sox player in New York? All it does it bring people together. Plus, that guy Varitek seems like a pretty good man to me.”

So Yogi didn’t back down. And, in my dream, his exhibit ended up being more popular than any in the history of the museum. Once everyone had settled down, it actually became a gathering place for Red Sox and Yankees fans who wanted to talk about baseball without any of those elevated animosities that have plagued the rivalry over the past decade. The exhibit even attracted national attention, and led to plans for a new exhibit at the St. Louis Cardinals Museum honoring Ernie Banks of the Cubs. Exhibits honoring rivals of the past sprang up in museums, schools, churches, temples, mosques, skyscrapers and stadiums across America. A new movement for peace, love and understanding had begun, and Yogi watched with a smile the whole time.

Forty-seven years ago today, Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream of his own, and he shared it with America. “I have a dream,” he said, “that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.’ ” Americans heard Dr. King’s words very clearly that day, and many of us have studied these words over the years. But we haven’t always followed the vision inherent in them as closely as we might like.

“The future ain’t what it used to be,” Yogi Berra once said. For the past nine years, a lot of Americans have felt the same. If we’re going to make that future brighter than our worst nightmares envision it to be, we have to take the bold leap of reaching out to all of our brothers and sisters in the name of peace, even when fear and anger stand in the way. That’s my dream, anyway. You might think there was something delusional in that hammock outside, but I’d rather think of it as a very real, and possible, vision.