Don’t look now, but former commissioner Bud Selig is a Hall of Famer. This is like the cobra inviting the mongoose for a dinner date. Selig was the first owner to become commissioner after he engineered the putsch that threw Fay Vincent overboard. And violated the intent of the office when he stepped in.
“There’s trouble on Joe Pepitone’s line,” was the title Bill Madden gave a chapter of his 2003 book Pride of October: What It Was to be Young and a Yankee. The title alluded to what Madden heard when he first called Pepitone at his Long Island home to arrange interviews for the book. Long before he struggled to reach the former first baseman, there was trouble on Joe Pepitone’s line. And there would be again, nine years later.
When Gabe Paul bolted as the Yankees’ president, exhausted by George Steinbrenner’s machinations, Steinbrenner had just the man to succeed him: Al Rosen, the one-time Cleveland third base star and a minority partner in the Yankee ownership.
There were those who thought the personable Rosen—who died 14 March at 91—was just the right guy to neutralise the tensions between two time bombs named Steinbrenner and then-Yankee manager Billy Martin. Including Martin himself. “Al played the game,” Martin told reporters. “He understands what it’s like. Gabe got in the way. He didn’t know the game.”
Once upon a time New York Daily News columnist Mike Lupica asked Yogi Berra at home what he thought was his greatest accomplishment. Berra’s comely wife, Carmen, had just left the room, and he pointed to the door through which she had just passed. “Getting her to marry me,” Berra replied. “Who’d have thought?”
Let’s see. A harmless Milwaukee Brewers fan disgusted over Ryan Braun shows up at Miller Park last Wednesday. She shows her contempt for Braun’s duplicitous behaviour by wearing a T-shirt replica of Braun’s uniform jersey—with “F” and “D” replacing “B” and “N” in Braun’s name above the familiar number 8. And Miller Park security offers a choice between turning the shirt inside-out or leaving the ballpark.
Did Hideki Irabu’s various crashes and prolonged burn finally cost him what mattered most, in turn costing him his life at 42?
Once an overhyped Japanese import in a Yankee uniform, Irabu was living mostly quietly in a well-to-do southern California suburb when, two months before his suicide Thursday, his wife, Kyonsu, left him and took their two little daughters with her. A neighbour told reporters the former pitcher seemed very down, not his usual “perky” self, since those departures.