Yogi Berra, RIP: It's Gotten Late Early Out Here

Throneberry Fields Forever ^ | September 23, 2015 | Yours truly

[BluesDuke]

When Yogi Berra turned 90 in May, I wrote, “There are those who walk among us in their twilight and inspire us to think that, warts and all, our world still remains a lovely place to be simply because such people still walk among us.” Unfortunately, our world is now a little more empty by a lot, as the man himself might say, thanks to Berra’s death Tuesday night. It’s gotten late early out here.

Sad, but not surprising, alas. It’s too often true that those in great love affairs that last not weeks, not months, but decades, do not survive the deaths of one partner very long. When Carmen Berra died in early 2014, my own first thought was that the husband who considered her his greatest achievement (Getting her to marry me. Who’d have thought?) wouldn’t wait very long to follow her.

When Yogi first went to the minors, he spent one doubleheader driving in 23 runs. When the future Mrs. Berra heard about that day, she deadpanned, “I figured he had a future.” Did she figure she’d be marrying a man who’d become an American icon? Decades later, he signed an anniversary card to her with “Love, Yogi Berra.” “I was actually kind of glad he thought to sign his last name,” she told a New York writer. “I wouldn’t have wanted to confuse him with all the other Yogis I know.”

There were only too many times you thought Berra was so much an icon that you might forget he was a genuinely great baseball player. I’m not sure it can be narrowed down to a simple, thumbnail sketch, and I have written somewhat extensively about it in the past, but perhaps we can give it a shot. And, yes, as Berra’s manager Casey Stengel liked to say, you could look it up:

1) With Yogi Berra as the Yankees’ regular catcher, Yankee pitchers not named Whitey Ford did better on the mound when throwing to him than they did with anyone else behind the plate, Yankee or otherwise; and, they did better as Yankees with Berra behind the plate than they ever did with any other team for whom they pitched. That group included the one Yankee pitcher not named Ford who was thought to be a Hall of Famer in the making who fell short enough: Allie Reynolds.

2) Only two men in major league history have hit 350+ lifetime home runs while striking out less than 500 times: Berra, and Joe DiMaggio. (In case you were wondering, Berra never struck out 40 times or more in any season and, in five of his seasons, his home runs out-numbered his strikeouts. For any hitter that would be an impressive achievement. For a classic bad-ball hitter who’d swing at anything that was anywhere within Yankee Stadium’s ZIP code—oops, Berra played before the ZIP code—that’s an unbelievable achievement.)

3) Between Berra’s rookie season (1947) and the first season of expansion (1961, when the American League introduced the Angels and the second Washington Senators), only one man in baseball drove in more runs than Berra: Stan Musial. (Classic Berra: Before one All-Star game, Berra happened upon a meeting of American League pitchers when the subject was pitching to Musial. “Forget it,” Berra cracked. “You guys are trying to figure out in fifteen minutes what nobody’s figured out in fifteen years.”)

4) Berra is compared most often to Johnny Bench, but those who argue for Bench’s superiority must confront the fact that Yogi

a) led his league in putouts eight times, assists five, defensive double plays six, and fielding percentage twice, to Bench leading his in putouts twice, assists once, defensive double plays once, and fielding percentage once.

b) needed 38 fewer total games to drive in 54 more runs, score 83 more, strike out 864 fewer times, ground into 55 fewer double plays, and hit for a higher lifetime slash line.

Pretty good for a son of Italian immigrants in the St. Louis section known as The Hill, who once said the only way he liked school was closed, who convinced a pow wow of his parents and the family priest that it was going to be baseball or nothing, who once asked for nothing more than the same $500 signing bonus his pal Joe Garagiola received (from the Cardinals, who spurned Berra at the same time) “just to show the folks there was dough in baseball,” and who earned a Purple Heart in the Navy during D-Day and after but refused to put in the application because he didn’t want to scare his mother to death.

Now, I wonder: Did I just become the first or only one to write 740+ words about Yogi upon his passing without pouncing once more into the fabled Berraisms that have become a kind of inside-out philosophy of common sense life?

(So much so did they become that that no less than Santa Clara University School of Law once published a monograph called The Jurisprudence of Yogi Berra. The late commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti would have loved that, himself having said once, “Talking baseball with Yogi Berra is like talking to Homer about the gods.”)

He became larger than life precisely because he didn’t seem that way. Joe DiMaggio took perverse pride in his regal stature and Ted Williams took similar pride in being a curmudgeon. And both men stood physically tall. Squat and somewhat homely, Berra always seemed another approachable guy in the neighbourhood.

At least, as approachable as can be a guy who won ten World Series rings in fourteen tries as a player, managed a pair of pennant winners (the 1964 Yankees; the 1973 Mets), stood at the Hall of Fame podium for induction next to Sandy Koufax (who would love nothing more than to be just another guy in the neighbourhood, if only people would let him), is quoted in official publications more often than Winston Churchill, and got to autograph a photograph for a President—the photo was of Berra going ballistic insisting Jackie Robinson was out when stealing home in the 1955 World Series—with, “Dear Mr. President: He was out!”

“The thing is,” his son, Larry, Jr. once said, “it’s not that hard to get inside his inner circle. Basically, he loves everybody, as long as you are trustworthy and loyal—doesn’t matter whether you’re the garbageman or the president of the United States.”

Or, whether you were black, white, brown, or paisley. It may have taken the Yankees considerably longer to allow black or Latin players to wear the pinstripes, but that didn’t stop Yogi from befriending such players on other clubs or from befriending and mentoring the first such Yankee, his eventual successor behind the plate Elston Howard.

Berra was one of the only visitors Phil Rizzuto’s wife allowed her husband in Rizzuto’s last months; the two would play bingo to keep Rizzuto’s spirits up. When Mike Ferraro, a journeyman player turned Yankee coach, lost his father, Berra drove two hours to serve as a pallbearer for the man’s funeral without Ferraro asking for the favour. He forged a sweet friendship with Ron Guidry in the years the two men went to spring training together as coaches; this has been chronicled in Harvey Araton’s charming Driving Mr. Yogi.

“Don’t cry for Casey,” Richie Ashburn said as a eulogist at Stengel’s funeral in 1975. “He wouldn’t want you to. He loved life and he loved baseball. He was the happiest man I’ve ever seen.” The same thing times three could be said for Stengel’s “assistant manager,” his usual appellation for Berra, about whom the Ol’ Perfesser once said, “He could fall into a sewer and come up with a gold watch.”

Berra left our world on the 69th anniversary of his first game as a Yankee. The home run he hit on a 2-for-4 day then was nothing compared to the home run that was his life on earth. Believe that as he passed to his reward, there was his beloved Carmen, taking his hand, showing him around, and introducing him thus: “This is my husband. We wouldn’t want to confuse him with all the other Yogis I know.”

[BluesDuke]

Safe home, Mr. Yogi . . .

[MarvinStinson]

I saw Berra hit a pitch at Griffith Stadium in Washington DC.

He didn’t swing hard; he just met the ball.

It took off, and soared, and then soared some more, and then soared further,

It was the most perfectly hit ball I ever saw.

Griffith Stadium was known for its 435 foot center field wall. The ball was caught by the Senators’ center fielder right at the wall.

That didn’t matter.

That ball hit by Berra was a perfect demonstration of the fact that it’s not how HARD you hit the ball—It’s how you hit.

It’s a secret of physics.

Beyond my understanding but I saw it happen.

[central_va]

He hits from both sides of the plate. He’s amphibious.

Yogi Berra

[Dr. Ursus]

You can ‘t live an extraordinary life anymore.

[BluesDuke]

Baseball people simplify that into, “Let the ball do the work.” I mean, you don’t have to swing that hard to meet a 98mph fastball and give it a ride. Just get the bat on the ball.

[Mears]

“When Yogi first went to the minors, he spent one doubleheader driving in 23 runs. When the future Mrs. Berra heard about that day, she deadpanned, “I figured he had a future.” Did she figure she’d be marrying a man who’d become an American icon? Decades later, he signed an anniversary card to her with “Love, Yogi Berra.” “I was actually kind of glad he thought to sign his last name,” she told a New York writer. “I wouldn’t have wanted to confuse him with all the other Yogis I know.”

---

Seems Mrs. Berra had a good sense of humor.

.

[BluesDuke]

That she did.

Classic Berra mishap:

In 1964, when he managed the Yankees, Yogi was invited to be the mystery guest on television's What's My Line. The panel needed about three seconds to figure him out. (OK, that's a slight exaggeration.) To fill in the time, host John Daly brought Carmen Berra out and introduced her as "Yogi's lovely bride."

The CBS switchboards went nuclear with indignant calls demanding to know how Yogi got away with dumping his wife and three kids for that little homewrecker!

I'm sure the Berras had a good laugh over it. This pic was taken not long before that What's My Line appearance:

[Mears]

Great story—and a most attractive lady.

.

[G Larry]

The new one I heard was his wife asking him where he wanted to be buried.

Yogi responded, “Surprise me”.

[ManHunter]

Very nice story - thanks much!

[jch10]

My daddy was one of those welcoming Yogi to Heaven. I know he couldn’t wait to shake his hand!

[BluesDuke]

I can only imagine how long the line was to shake his hand. It’ll probably take Mr. Yogi about five months to settle in!

[Dawgreg]

LOL.......great story. What was it......65 years together? I think we know how it lasted that long. RIP Yogi and Carmen.......

[AwesomePossum]

Damn good writing.....damn good writing....a good Yankees fan will understand the "damn". It's the kind of fine writing that can make you laugh and cry at the same time....it's a gift. And, so was Yogi, he was a gift....

8:}

[PennsylvaniaMom]

From a Pirate fan...

I second your post of “damn good writing.” And add for a damn good man.

I hope everyone whose funeral Yogi attended shows up for his.

G-dspeed.

[MarvinStinson]

Fighters know that is a snappy punch (indefinable) that knocks someone out.

Not a HARD punch.