Rant #1,518: Yogi

 First, for those who celebrated, I hope your fast went well and that the new year brings everything to you that you desire.

Now, let me tell you about Yogi.

Yogi Berra passed away on Tuesday night. He was 90.

Probably the most beloved sports icon of the post-World War II era, Berra was the link in Yankees history between Babe Ruth and Derek Jeter.

He was a three-time MVP, 10-time World Series champion, and even as a manager, guided his teams to two World Series.

He was also a member of the greatest generation, a hero of World War II, and was probably more proud of that then anything else he did.

He was undoubtedly one of the most famous people in the world, and probably one of the few celebrities who continued to flourish after their main careers ended.

Yogi was Yogi and everyone, young and old alike, loved Yogi.

Maybe it was the funny name, which he may have gotten because he liked to sit cross-legged, and someone--and not, as urban legend had it, his long-time friend and fellow Hall of Famer Joe Garagiola--said he looked like an Indian yogi, so hence, the name.

He grew up in very humble circumstances with Garagiola--basically on the same block--in the Italian section of St. Louis.

Because of his look and build, teams passed up on signing him, and the Cardinals actually whiffed on Berra and took the more athletic looking Garagiola, and the Yankees took a chance on Berra, and the rest is history.

Being home yesterday, while I was fasting, I was feasting on stories about Berra. The YES Network ran an all-day marathon on Berra, including a three-hour tribute where accolades came from all quarters.

The stories were incredible--many I had not heard before--and the tears were prevalent.

Yankees broadcaster Michael Kay sobbed at least three times during the day, telling the most unheard story where Berra visited his good friend, Phil Rizzuto, during his buddies' last days, when he was in an assisted living facility. They would play cards--as they had for the past 50 or more years--and Berra would come there each and every day, giving Rizzuto encouragement to live on another day.

There was also the story about Berra's business acumen. The well-known story is that Berra was approached by a fledgling soft drink maker, desperate for publicity. They wanted him to appear in ads for the soft drink, which he agreed to do, but in lieu of a salary--which they would have had trouble paying him--he took a partial owner's stake in the company.

Yes, Berra did quite well with Yoo-Hoo.

Another, less known story, was about a real estate deal that he, Whitey Ford, Billy Martin and Mickey Mantle laid the ground for in the 1950s.

The four purchased an extremely large tract of land in central Florida, and decided that this would be their home when they retired.

They planned on building mansions on their respective properties, and would live out their lives there.

It didn't work out that way, as Ford, Martin and Mantle all sold their properties in the subsequent years.

However, Berra hung onto his property, and got a very generous payout when he finally sold in the late 1960s.

Yes, a very, very, very generous buyout, as the tracts of land the Yankee teammates had owned made up what we now refer to as Disneyworld in Orlando. Without Disney's purchase of Yogi's tract of land, there would have been no Disneyworld.

Anyway, my personal recollections of him are more as an a manager, a coach and an icon than anything else.

Being born in 1957 and getting into baseball in 1965, I really never saw Berra as a Yankee player. I have very dim memories of seeing him actually at bat as a Met in 1965. He had been fired from his manager's position with the Yankees during 1964's off season, as his Yankees team lost to the Cardinals in the World Series.

The Mets brought him aboard during the 1965 season as almost a slap in the face to the Yankees. He actually played in a couple of games--one of the few people, if not the only one, to actually participate in games as a player after having been a manager--and I think he managed to get one hit in a couple of at bats. I have a recollection of seeing him in a Mets game that was televised on TV, as a pinch hitter, and grounding out to third, but it is pretty hazy in my memory.

I remember him for all his Yogi-isms, like "It ain't over 'til it's over," and I remember him as a coach and manager for not only the Yankees and Mets, but also, for a brief time, with the Houston Astros.

And did anyone ever have a bad word to say about Yogi?

He removed himself from the Yankees situation for more than a decade after being fired as Yankees manager for a second time, and vowed never to return to Yankee Stadium unless George Steinbrenner sold the team.

He never did, of course, they mended their fences, and Berra became a regular at the Stadium. He also tutored younger players as a spring training instructor.

I gravitated toward Yogi at a young age because, well, wasn't Yogi Bear named after him? Also, once I found out that his real name was "Lawrence"--the same as mine--well, we Lawrences have to stick together.

And no, he was never called Larry. His original nickname was "Loddy," believe it or not.

So Yogi Berra has left us, and he left this planet a better place with his enormous presence. The Yankees will wear No. 8 on their sleeves the rest of the season, and various tributes are being planned by the team.

Goodbye, Yogi. From one Lawrence to another, you done good.

Classic Rant #170 (January 12, 2010): McGwire Fesses Up

OK, we all knew that Mark McGwire took steroids. We all knew that he took steroids during this epic battle with Sammy Sosa in setting the single-season Major League Baseball homerun record. We all knew that he took steroids, even though he wouldn't let on to Congress about it.

But now, McGwire has spilled the beans--he has admitted to steroid use, and admitted to it over a 10-year period which includes his epic homerun chase.

Why did he come out now? He says that since he is now the hitting coach of the St. Louis Cardinals, he did not want it to be a distraction during spring training, which comes up next month, and the 2010 baseball season, which starts in April.

Why didn't he tell Congress about his use? He says that he feared that he would not have immunity, and feared that it would hurt himself and his family.

So now he has admitted to doing something that we all knew he did. He also said that taking these substances did not allow him to hit a baseball further, because you have to have that talent to begin with.

So, if we are to believe this, the andro that McGwire took did little more than help him get back from injuries faster, it had nothing to do with his prolific homeruns that he tallied during his personal steroid era.

Although I am not a doctor, I kind of disagree.

At the time, andro was not banned by Major League Baseball, so what he took was not illegal, per se. But I do believe what he took was akin to making his wooden bat into a metal bat. If you have ever used one, and then the other, you know that the ball travels further with the metal bat.

Well, the andro made his hits travel further. It gave him extra strength, and that is cheating, because he did not come about it naturally.

Look, McGwire is never going to get into the Hall of Fame. In spite of nearly 600 homeruns, he wasn't really a Hall of Fame caliber player, in other aspects of his game, such as batting average. This is a guy who hit below .200 a few times in his career.

But he, and Barry Bonds, are the poster boys for steroid use in baseball, or cheating by chemical means. Both were excellent players that got a big "nudge" by using steroids. But also, let it be said that when they used them, their use was not illegal, at least by Major League Baseball standards.

So, to sum it all up, I am glad that McGwire fessed up once and for all.

And again, it's not like he killed somebody. He damaged himself internally, and he damaged the reputation of baseball.

And he wasn't the only one who did this, not by a long shot.

Rant #1,517: Larson Passes

 
I am sure that you have heard that another icon of the Baby Boomer generation has passed on.

Jack Larson, 87, who was cub reporter Jimmy Olsen on one of TV's quintessential early series, "The Adventures of Superman," died on Sunday.

Larson, a young actor who had been in a few movies, was reluctant to take on the Jimmy Olsen role, because he thought it would typecast him forever. After being urged by his agent to basically "take the money and run," Larsen agreed to play Olsen, but refused to do any publicity for the show, thinking that it would further solidify him as Olsen and nothing else.

Well, doing publicity or not, he was right; he was typecast forever as Superman's best friend, but what he didn't realize was the lasting popularity of that role, even 60 years later.

Larson played Olsen during the six season run of the show, and would have played it into its seventh season if George Reeves, who played Superman, had not died. Larsen, often asked about Reeves' plight, stated that he thought the actor committed suicide, although the case has been put through a magnifying glass since 1959, with many claiming that Reeves was murdered by the mob.

Anyway, with the popularity of the show, Larson was asked to play Jimmy Olsen in his own series, but he refused the role, but he found that few other roles were open to him. That is when he went more into the background, as a writer and producer.

He teamed with James Bridges on a number of projects, and he also became a well-known script doctor, fixing up scripts for better presentation.

His most famous script doctoring effort might have been "The China Syndrome," a film with Jack Lemmon and Jane Fonda that won wide acclaim.

Larson and Bridges collaborated on a number of projects, but their collaboration went way beyond entertainment. They were partners in life, and Larsen was one of the few openly gay Hollywood types during the 1950s through the 1990s, when being openly gay was often a death knell to a career in Hollywood in any role.

Whatever the case, even though he was typecast as Olsen, the one thing that Larson didn't foresee is how iconic his character, and that TV series, went on to become.

He eventually accepted his "plight," and often spoke about his role, Reeves, and the TV show.

He actually had some bit appearances as Olsen, or as a character related to the original show, in a number of more recent Superman-related projects, and he occasionally appeared as something other than Olsen in a few TV series, including "Law and Order."

Larson also appeared in the first Superman movie with Christopher Reeve, but if you blinked, you probably missed him and Noel Neill, the Superman TV show's second, and most popular, Lois Lane.

Larson also had a nearly life-long friendship with Neill, and he often appeared with her in films and other avenues related to the Superman TV show.

Yes, this guy lived the life, and his own life would make for a "super" movie, I always thought.

So here's to Larson, who was correct in assuming that he would forever be typecast as Jimmy Olsen, but never had a clue that this would end up being the blessing that it became.

And as a sidelight, yes, Neill and her predecessor, Phyllis Coates, are both still alive and well.

R.I.P. Jack Larson. You helped make my childhood the great time that it was.

I will be taking the day off tomorrow for Yom Kippur, so I will speak to you again on Thursday.

To those who celebrate, have an easy fast and a great New Year.

Classic Rant #169 (January 11, 2010): Where Have All the Years Gone?

I often talk about my years growing up in Queens, New York, as if I was living in some fairy-tale place in my own personal fable.

Of course, this wasn't so, but we all have a habit of making our childhoods appear to be some type of storybook, "the best years of our lives."

My childhood was wonderful. From birth through the age of 14, I lived in three places that were great places to grow up in: Brooklyn (I only lived there a few months after I was born, but was there anything wrong with Brooklyn in the 1950s?), Kew Gardens Hills (where I spent my early childhood and school years), and a mythical place called Rochdale Village, in South Jamaica, Queens (where I went in as a little boy but where I turned into an early teenager, a young man).

The Rochdale Village part of my existence I have talked about ad infinitum over the past 40 years or so. It was an experimental development built on the old Jamaica Racetrack, in the heart of the one of the most solid, yet somehow chipped, black communities in the U.S.A. Our development, at least at the beginning, was probably about 70 percent white, and of those white residents, probably 85 percent were Jewish.

For the first few years of the development, blacks and whites, at least within the development, lived in pretty much harmony. The people living on the outside were not always as nice to us as they could be, but generally, things were pretty placid. Even the New York Times wrote a major article about the place - "Where Blacks and Whites Live Together"--as if this was a utopia that all areas could aspire to.

And for a few years, it was.

Then the late 1960s erupted. So many things were happening in our country and throughout the world starting in 1968 or so, but the straw that I feel broke the development's back--and I believe Rochdale Village lost its soul--is when Martin Luther King was assassinated. This mixed race development, in the heart of a long-standing black area, became a focal point of what was going wrong with our country back then. The place became unsafe to live in, the schools disintegrated even with dedicated teachers, and although it took several years, by about 1976 or 1977, most of the white residents--and many of the original black residents--had left.

My family left in 1971, moved to the New York suburbs, and that is where we have been for the past 40 years.

Why I bring this up is the picture attached to this post. That is me, circa 1966 or 1967 or so, when I was nine or 10 years old. I often yearn for 1967, because that was probably the best time in my young life. I didn't have a care in the world, and the only thing I had to worry about was if I would do well on my next test in school.

I had seemingly hundreds of friends, and the only things that were important to me were my comic books and the New York Yankees and New York Knicks. Sure, my family was important, but mom and dad were always there, so, what, me worry?

Like I said, I often yearn for that innocence today. I am not knocking today--I have a great family, a great wife and super kids. But look at me in that picture--was this bald, overweight 52-year-old that I am today in this kid's future?

I guess so.

My sister just turned 50 at the end of December, so my parents, both in their late 70s, have two kids in their 50s. I am sure that they can't believe this, any more than I can't believe that this little kid you see here is this big kid you are reading about now.

Where have the years gone? Who knows!

Rant #1,516: Gloat Goat

 
I know it is going to sound as if I am gloating today--and perhaps I am--but the New York baseball world is still ruled by the team in the Bronx.

With the 11-2 pasting the Yankees gave to the Mets last night, the Yankees not only won the current so-called "Subway Series" matchup 2-1, but they also won the season's series from the team from Queens, 4-2.

Yes, the Mets have an excellent team, and that is why they are leading their division by so many games.

But in spite of having that excellent team, the Mets remain the No. 2 team in New York, as they have been for decades.

Even though I don't think the Yankees have the greatest team--and as you know, I have said this on several occasions, both here and elsewhere--the team from the Bronx, the team I have rooted for since 1965, is still the team to beat in New York.

And for the Mets not to be honest about Matt Harvey's innings limit--and the stir that caused two weeks ago when the pitcher and his agent both said they would not exceed 180 innings, and, in fact, Harvey was taken out after five innings last night to pin him at 180--well, the Mets, Harvey and his agent, Scott Boras, deserve each other, don't they?

The Mets have claimed all along that there was no innings limit, Harvey and Boras opened their big mouths about stopping at 180 innings and that was it after the pitcher came back from Tommy John surgery, and that story dominated the sports pages with coverage as if the Mets had won the World Series.

And now we see that there is an innings limit on Harvey after all.

He was winning last night after five innings, throwing a one-hitter at the Bronx Bombers and leading 1-0.

When they took him out, the game was basically over for the Mets. Their relief corps allowed 11 runs, and the Yankees ended up winning a huge game for them, 11-2.

The Yankees are now 2 1/2 games behind the Toronto Blue Jays for first place in their division, and they just happen to play the team from Canada the next three games, in Toronto.

But back to the Mets and their fans ...

Yes, the Mets have an exciting team, a team that potentially can make it deep into the playoffs and maybe even make the World Series.

The team has great, young starting pitching, excellent hitting, and they are a team that has been on the outskirts of everything basically since the 2000 World Series, when they lost to the Yankees for baseball's championship.

Now, they have a team that is getting everyone excited, including their fans, who haven't had much to cheer about in a long time.

I can understand fans getting excited, but I never could understand fans getting cheap.

Just go on Facebook, and you will find some of the dumbest posts I have ever read related to this now completed Mets and Yankees series.

One post showed the Yankees hat set on fire, as if the Mets were going to "burn" the Yankees.

Another one said that the person writing the post lived in Ohio, wore her Yankees gear to show where she was from--the person admitted to not only never wearing Mets gear, but not even owning a piece of their gear, too--but was rooting for the Mets to beat the Yankees.

Huh?

There have been others, but funny, you don't see Yankees fans putting up such dumbness.

Yankees fans take these things in stride. Sure, I didn't like it when the Yankees lost the first game of this three game series, but I didn't get cheap on Facebook, either before this game or now.

The Yankees won fair and square.

What will Mets fans do now that their heroes fell to the hated Yankees, a team of little actual consequence to them? And how about those fair weather fans, who flit from one team to another as much as a bee goes from one flower to another looking for honey?

I don't know, but I know what Yankees fans will not do--

They won't gloat.

There is an even bigger series in Toronto now to focus on, and why stamp your feet when the season still has two weeks to go?

Anything can happen, and Mets fans should know that, based on their past history.

So I just had to write this article, and if it is gloating, so be it.

We are talking about the New York Yankees, aren't we?

Classic Rant #168 (January 8, 2010): Wrestling Rings Around Anyone Else

I have spoke about professional wrestling in previous entries in this blog.

This is a multi-billion-dollar business which has pushed itself into the mainstream by the maneuverings of one crafty, smart personality, Vince McMahon, the leader of World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE). He has taken what he has--a collection of athletes who are not good enough to be real professional athletes in legitimate sports (some have been pro athletes, but have moved on) but good enough to be professional wrestlers--and molded his brand into one that even non-fans know about.

Names like John Cena, Triple H, Chris Jericho, and Rey Mysterio roll off the mouth like fine gum. But this traveling circus is plastered all over television--worldwide--sells out all over--worldwide--and has made a billionaire out of McMahon.

Heck, his wife, Linda, is even running for office in Connecticut, and let's not forget Jesse Ventura, the former governor of Minnesota. He was "The Body" at one time, then he became "The Governor."

Anyway, the WWE has been, and still is, the top wrestling promotion in the world, and nothing is going to take away from that.

However, an upstart has started to steal some of the thunder from the WWE; and the ironic thing is that it is stealing some of the thunder using former WWE stars as its backbone.

Total Non-Stop Action Wrestling, better known as TNA, has a fast-rising weekly TV show on Spike TV, and it has promotions not only in the U.S., but on a worldwide basis.

Started just a few years ago, it is the No. 2 wrestling attraction right now, a poor No. 2 to WWE's dominance, but it has taken great strides to make itself a solid No. 2.

With a backbone of wrestling stars from the WWE--including Kurt Angle, Scott Steiner, and Kevin Nash-- and its own stars--like A.J. Styles, Samoa Joe, and Jay Lethal--it has solidified itself with fans who still watch the WWE but have wanted to expand their wrestling reach.

It also has in its stable Sting, a wrestler who has never wrestled in the WWE but is immensely popular.

But it has just signed probably the greatest prize in professional wrestling, the guy who put wrestling on the map in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s.

Hulk Hogan is now part of TNA, and whatever you think about him personally, he is to TNA what Michael Jordan was to the NBA--a star beyond all stars, a guy that even non-believers know about.

Tonight, I am taking my son to our third TNA event. My son is very much like me when I was 14 years old--I loved wrestling then, but back then, it was nothing more than akin to a horse and pony show. It had its devoted following, but it was nothing more than a niche thing.

Today, it is a global phenomenon, so even a house show like the one we are seeing has a lot of significance--especially coming off the Hulk Hogan signing and TNA's recent TV show which went directly against WWE's sold RAW show this past Monday night.

It should be a lot of fun. As long as you take professional wrestling for what it is--a circus, athletic phoniness mixed in with some incredible story lines and a lot of pretty women, some of whom can actually wrestle--you will get its message.

The WWE, TNA, and a myriad of regional entities are bringing fans just what they want, and if fans get just what they want, they will spend lots of money. That was the idea years ago, and it is still the idea now, and the idea is working incredibly well at this point in time.

And you can take that to the mat.

Rant #1,515: Dreaming

In the past, I have talked about my dreams at this site.

I don't remember my dreams very often, but when I do, they are really interesting, at least to me.

I am sure all of us can say the same, but I have the outlet to write about them, so here goes.

Last night, after another busy day at work, I went to bed dead tired, and fell asleep pretty quickly.

I had a dream where I was driving on the Wantagh Parkway on Long Island--the road I use to get to work--and there was a car on the side of the road that had been in an accident or had stalled, I don't remember which, but it was on the side of the road.

As I exited the parkway and got closer to the car on the side of the road, I noticed that it looked very familiar ... it was my old Oldsmobile Cutlass, the very same car that was stolen the night before I got married!

Yes, in real life, my friend took me out to a restaurant in Manhattan the night before I got married on June 6, 1992. He lived in Queens at the time, right off the Van Wyck Expressway, and I drove to his house, and parked my car about a block away. When we returned, my car was gone. It was never to be seen again, and probably went to a chop shop somewhere.

Anyway, back to the dream ...

There it was, in all of its glory. How could such an old car still be on the road to begin with?

Anyway, I got a call to come down and pick up the Oldsmobile, and I told whoever was calling that I did not own it anymore, and I told them the story I just told you.

But they insisted I come down to pick it up, because I was the listed owner.

I guess my dream pilfered out after that, but it was revived later ...

I found myself going to pick up the car, but I got sidetracked, and I instead went to ...

A David Bowie concert that was being held somewhere near work, but not at the fabled Westbury Music Fair, or whatever they now call it, which is, in fact, about five minutes from where I work.

It must have been at a school or something with an auditorium, and I sat in a section of all women, all middle aged women at the youngest. I had seats on the side, and there was a video monitor right in front of me, and since I really couldn't see anything on the stage, I had to use the monitor to see the concert.

The one song I know he sang at my "dream" concert was "Modern Love." Why my mind picked this song is beyond me. I like the song, but it is far from my favorite Bowie song. But he sang that song.

There was an intermission, and I had a discussion with a woman who had a cane (!) about concerts we had gone to recently, and the level of the performers we had seen. She had seen U2, I had seen the Monkees (which, as you know, I did actually do).

When the concert resumed, this woman and another one in a wheelchair left, and I had the row to myself ...

And that is all I remember.

I cannot fathom how this dream or dreams can be interpreted. I will leave that to the dream experts. But my dream was interesting, and I am happy that I remember it so vividly, because that is usually not the case with me. I have them, and their memory doesn't last--this one did.

Can anyone make anything of this? Heck, that car is in my memory banks, but I haven't thought about it in years.

And David Bowie? I like him, always have, but he is far from my favorite rocker. How did he end up in my dream?

Now, for reality. I soon have to go to work, and I have to work early Saturday because we are in our annual busy period, so my sleep is going to be interrupted having to get up for a sixth day during the week for work.

Woe is me. I am burnt out already.

And that is no dream.

Speak to you again on Monday.