What a bunch of whiners. Reading the complaints about the
Yankees by angry fans made me realize that these letter writers
are clueless about where to place the blame for the Yankees'
playoff loss to the Angels. Savvy fans know that the last five
winless years are the fault of owner George Steinbrenner. Win or
lose, I've been a loyal Yankee fan for more than 40 years because
the team always made the game exciting with its come-from-behind
victories. Something's changed, and Mr. Steinbrenner is to blame.
Growing up, baseball was always a big part of our lives in
Spanish Harlem. On Sundays, the neighborhood men would troop over
to Central Park and play in the baseball fields while we would
play outside the fences. With three major league baseball teams,
New York has hosted more World Series games than any other
American city.
My mother was a fanatical Yankee fan who would work her fingers
like magic to jinx the opposing teams' pitchers. A devout
Catholic who attended Mass every day, she nevertheless resorted
to "brujaria" to ward off the evil spirits of the
Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Baseball fever was fun back in the days before television's big
bucks reared its ugly head. Businesses would halt while the
Series was broadcast over the radio during working hours. The
subway platform at the Bronx 161st Street station would be packed
with riders jockeying to get a glimpse of the limited view of
Yankee Stadium while listening to the game on transistor radios.
These days, baseball jumps to the tune of the broadcasters,
looking for high ratings because how else could it afford to pay
those millionaire player salaries?
Even though he grew up in the Deep South while it was still
segregated, my husband considered Willie Mays, a black
ballplayer, the greatest ever. Mays, he said, loved the game. The
early heroes of baseball had that in common - a consummate love
of the game. Now, my hubby says, many stars act as if they don't
even like to play. He doubts seriously that Barry Bonds or Ken
Griffey Jr. even watch the sport in their spare time.
The Yankees back then were the absolute best. Who can forget the
year of 1961, with Mantle, Maris, Berra, and Howard all blasting
home runs without the use of artificial hormones? The Yanks were
our champions because they had this knack of always coming from
behind to win. They never gave up, and that was an invaluable
lesson we all needed to learn while facing material hardships on
the mean streets.
Something's missing from today's Yankees, and the rot starts at
the top. It's easy to shout at the players and the manager, but
the soul of the team has been dying since 2002, when fans like
myself were thoroughly disenchanted by the players' threatening
to strike. They revealed themselves to be more interested in
money and advertising contracts rather than lovers of the game.
Paying $25 million a year for a baseball player who has yet to
help his team to a Series championship? Outrageous. Yet Mr.
Steinbrenner has been salivating after and signing Alex Rodriquez
and other big names for years and the question has always been:
Why? Big-money players rarely live up to their hype once they
come to the Yankees because they carry with them the baggage of
overgrown egos, not loyalty. Remember Roger Clemens, who got his
ring and then retired? Oops, not quite. He just took a better
offer. Yankee victories came via great clutch hitters, not the
multimillionaire home-run hotshots that Mr. Steinbrenner lusts
after.
Another thing: Joe Torre has been a great manager, but he looks
tired. What we needed this year was a Billy Martin type who had
the nerve to get in the faces of his stars, telling them that
they're not as great as their press clippings. A few dugout
squabbles might have fired up these millionaires into actually
earning their keep.
For four years, '96, '98, '99, and 2000, the Yankees thrilled us
with baseball at its best but then began the systematic
dismantling of the winning teams. Team favorites were put out to
dry so that bigger names could be acquired. Did we really lose an
Andy Pettitte for an A-Rod?
Here's a helpful hint for Mr. Steinbrenner: Grow your own stars.
The best player you have is Derek Jeter, who came up from the
minors. The biggest hope you have now is with two former Staten
Island Yankees - Robinson Cano and Chien-Ming Wang. The Baby
Bomber team, which has won the last three league championships,
is woefully neglected by Mr. Steinbrenner, yet therein lies the
Yanks' redemption.
Instead of raising the ticket prices, stop buying millionaire
flops, pass on your savings to the fans, and then, maybe, the
Yanks will rise again.