Pinstripe Empire (78 page)

For the Yankees, it was a tough loss after winning the first two. McDowell was one of a number of players who were crying in the clubhouse after the game.

Another was Showalter, weeping at his desk. Steinbrenner walked in
with Dr. Stuart Hershon, the former Harvard football player who had been the team physician since 1988.

“George was angry, but when he saw Buck crying, he became paternal,” said Hershon. “He walked to him, patted him on the back, and said, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ “

But Buck knew it wasn’t okay. He had a very discontented owner who cared little about the team making the postseason for the first time in fourteen years.

“He knows the bottom line,” said the Boss, who had refused to endorse a contract extension for Showalter during the season.

Hershon was at Steinbrenner’s table for eight that night at the hotel restaurant. After the first two guests ordered, Steinbrenner threw down the menu and said to the waiter, “I can’t eat; I’m too upset.”

The first two rescinded their orders. Eight people sat quietly drinking water for dinner.

THE SEARCH FOR A NEW MANAGER was somewhat half-hearted; many felt that the best man for the job was Showalter, and that a dismissal of the thirty-eight-year-old, who was still growing into the job, was uncalled for.

Michael, back to battling with Steinbrenner, agreed to step back as GM and become director of major league scouting, with the GM position going to the former Yankee first baseman Bob Watson, who had served a similar role with Houston.

Both Michael and his twenty-eight-year-old assistant, Brian Cashman, were supporters of retaining Showalter. Rather than fire Buck, Steinbrenner first told him that he could not name his own coaches. He sent him a two-year contract for $1.05 million on the condition that at least hitting coach Rick Down was to be let go. When Showalter rejected it, Steinbrenner considered it a resignation, not a negotiation, and moved on.

Michael, preparing for his departure, recommended Brooklyn-born Joe Torre, fifty-five, who had managed the Mets, the Braves, and the Cardinals after a fine playing career. The Cardinals had fired him in mid-June and many felt his managerial career might have been over after fifteen years.

Joe Molloy recommended Michael, but Stick promptly turned down the idea of a third term. “We never get along when I’m manager,” he said.

Michael’s idea of Torre was supported by Arthur Richman, a senior advisor. Richman had been the Mets’ traveling secretary when Torre began his managing career. He was a true baseball character and onetime
New York
Mirror
reporter who left the Mets in a dispute and came to the Yankees in 1989. He was a guy who knew everyone in the game and had pictures on the wall of his office (my old office) to prove it. He maintained a list of his suggested pallbearers in his wallet, and George Brett even named a son after him. Arthur and his brother Milton, the UPI sports editor who died in 1986, were considered formidable power brokers in the game, and Arthur remained a Yankee advisor until his death in 2009.

So with Richman’s influential endorsement, but with Michael’s suggestion carrying the most weight, the Yankees gave Torre a two-year deal for the same $1.05 million offered Showalter. It was announced on November 2.

The press was rough. A
Daily News
headline, CLUELESS JOE, created by deskman Anthony Rieber, gave Steinbrenner pause. It came to be thought that the headline reflected on his abilities, but it was intended to be a warning about what he was getting himself in for. Steinbrenner even doubled back and considered rehiring Showalter, probably making Torre club president instead.

But Buck had moved on. He had a handshake deal with the new Arizona Diamondbacks to be their first manager, even if they were two years away from their first game. In a public statement, Steinbrenner said, “I am very upset by his leaving. I wish Buck and his fine little family nothing but the best.”

Showalter went on to manage in Arizona, Texas, and Baltimore, never losing his reputation as a bit of a control freak, but always held in high regard by Yankee fans for being the manager as the team returned to playoff form.

BEFORE THE YANKEES opened their Tampa spring training site, they swung a big trade with Seattle, bringing Tino Martinez and reliever Jeff Nelson to the Yankees for third-base prospect Russ Davis and Sterling Hitchcock.

“The Mariners wanted either Hitchcock or Pettitte,” recalled Michael, “and we were dealing with Woody Woodward, their GM, who knew our system from having worked here in the eighties … I liked Pettitte’s determination and concentration just a little more. I managed to keep him, and we got them to agree to Hitchcock.”

Martinez was just the sort of player the Yankees needed. He would bring a big RBI bat to first base after Mattingly’s struggles. As successor to Mattingly, he had big shoes to fill, but he had talent, a winning personality, even
what sounded like a New York accent, and the “right stuff” to just do his job, put up the numbers, and let his on-field play take care of any Mattingly comparisons.

He symbolized what Michael wanted in hitters: patience, the ability to run the count deep, a guy who got on base a lot. In his first year, he hit .292/25/117 and won over the fans.

The Yankees’ on-base percentage in 1991 was .316. By 1996 it was .360. Boggs had been the first player to demonstrate the patience that Michael liked. Now it was starting to pay off up and down the lineup. It would be the hallmark of Yankee teams to come. It wore down starting pitchers and got the Yankees into the middle-relief men on a daily basis, often rendering the closers useless.

Meanwhile, Wetteland remained a very effective closer for the Yanks, saving 43 games in 1996. But his setup man, Mariano Rivera, was to many the team’s MVP. Rivera preceded Wetteland 26 times in those 43 saves, pitching more than an inning in 20 of them. His stuff was dazzling; his fastball had pop, and his cutter was as tough on lefties as it was on righties. There was no need to go lefty-righty once he came in, keeping the rest of the bullpen—Nelson, Bob Wickman, and Australian Graeme Lloyd—effective earlier in the game. The formula worked well; the Yankee starters had only six complete games.

The Yanks re-signed David Cone as a free agent, and he was 4–1, 2.01 before going down with a frightening, career-threatening aneurysm. When he came back with his first start in September, he no-hit Oakland for seven innings before Torre took him out over pitch-count concerns. Pettitte was 21–8, while Kenny Rogers, the recovered Jimmy Key, and Doc Gooden won 35 between them. Ramiro Mendoza was an effective spot starter. Gooden, considered finished by some, hurled a no-hitter against Seattle on May 14, something he had never achieved with the Mets.

Additionally, second baseman Mariano (“We play today, we win today”) Duncan led the team with a .340 average (he and Rivera were the only two “Marianos” in baseball history), and veterans Tim Raines, Cecil Fielder, and Darryl Strawberry were big contributors, Fielder having been obtained for Sierra on July 31.

Third baseman Charlie Hayes, who platooned with Boggs, returned in an August 30 trade with Pittsburgh, just in time to be postseason eligible.

“He might have been the best third baseman in the league when we had
him earlier, before losing him to Colorado in the expansion draft,” said Michael.

Strawberry and Gooden were Steinbrenner reclamation projects. He had Arthur Richman charged with looking after them. They were two of the most talented players of the eighties when they came up to the Mets, but alcohol and drugs killed their Cooperstown-bound careers. They still had something to prove, and something to give to the Yankees.

Another addition to the team was bench coach Don Zimmer, whom Torre did not personally know very well. Zim was a baseball lifer who started as a Brooklyn shortstop and then carved out a long managing and coaching career in the game, including two coaching stints with the Yanks in the eighties. He proved to be a great strength to Torre, quick to observe things on the field and to make suggestions without seeking publicity or credit. Chubby, bald, Popeye-like in appearance, “the Gerbil” was a favorite of the TV cameras. The team’s rookie shortstop, Derek Jeter, took a particular liking to Zimmer, rubbing his bald head for good luck.

Mel Stottlemyre and Chris Chambliss returned as pitching and batting coaches to provide a “Yankee pedigree” in the dugout.

JETER WAS NOT a sure thing to be the team’s shortstop in ’96. Clyde King, for one, thought he wasn’t ready. Gene Michael thought he was. So did coach Willie Randolph, who knew something about playing the infield at a young age. The Yanks toyed with making a deal with Seattle to get Felix Fermin, and considered dealing Bob Wickman or Mariano Rivera for him. Tony Fernandez broke his elbow in spring training, jeopardizing second base at the same time.

Everyone seemed to think Jeter’s time was coming, but not necessarily in ’96. But Michael prevailed, and he got the job. He homered off Dennis Martinez on opening day in Cleveland and made an over-the-shoulder catch. He was hitting .340 after fifteen games. He was ready.

Born in New Jersey but raised in Kalamazoo, Michigan, Jeter was a Yankee fan from summer vacations back in Jersey, where he’d watch the games on WPIX. The product of nurturing parents in an interracial marriage, he had an easy personality, good looks, and star quality. He was observed in Kalamazoo by scout Dick Groch and then scouting director Bill Livesy, who held their breaths at the 1992 amateur draft as four teams passed and the
Yankees got him. “He wanted to be a Yankee,” said Groch. “That’s the thing he wanted.”

From the beginning, he mastered the art of avoiding controversy in remarks to the media. He seemed to have perfect instincts for the game. His trademark movements—raising his right arm for a brief “time!” before each pitch (that began in his second season), his quarterback-like rifle throws to first while airborne in short left field, his line drives to the opposite field, and his unselfish approach all contributed to what was going to be a Hall of Fame career.

As he matured, his place among the all-time great Yankees was evident. He was named captain in 2003. He emerged as the team’s spokesman at ceremonial events. His number-2 jersey would be worn by thousands of fans, many of them female (he was still a bachelor as 2012 arrived) and many of them youngsters. His image was perfect for the game, especially as steroid allegations stirred around other stars. And he, along with Torre, Williams, Martinez, Rivera, Pettitte, and Cone, began to confound traditional Yankee haters. These were hard guys to root against. It was a most unusual development for the franchise, and frustrating for those who had spent a lifetime finding the Yankees arrogant.

Jeter’s highlight reel would be filled with memorable Yankee moments, and if there was a commercial to be made featuring a baseball player, there was a pretty good chance that Jeter was in it. Jeter T-shirts and jerseys were the best selling in the game.

While not considered powerful enough to hit in the middle of the lineup, he nevertheless hit more than 200 career homers to make the all-time top ten among Yankees, and hit 20 postseason home runs (through 2011), which was third all-time among all players.

TORRE BECAME THE figure to watch as the Yankees went into the postseason. He was a steady yet emotional man who connected well with New Yorkers, and fans were rooting for him to get to his first-ever World Series. He had been a calming presence all season, putting himself between his players and the front office, keeping them out of public criticism, changing the culture of the organization.

After Williams homered three times as the Yanks beat Texas in the Division Series, the Yanks faced Baltimore in the ALCS. In game one, trailing 4–3 in the eighth, Jeter hit a fly ball toward the first row in right field. Oriole
right fielder Tony Tarasco set up to catch it on the warning track and later said he felt he could make the play, but a twelve-year-old New Jersey boy, Jeffrey Maier, reached out and deflected it into the stands. Umpire Rich Garcia called it a home run and the game was tied. It gave the Yankees life, and in the last of the eleventh, Williams hit a walk-off homer to give the Yanks the win. (On seeing the replay, Garcia admitted to blowing the call.)

Baltimore won game two behind David Wells, but then the Yankees took three straight, with Pettitte taking the clincher 6–4. The Yanks were off to their first World Series since 1981.

THE BRAVES AT first looked just too good for New York, with John Smoltz and Greg Maddux both winning in New York to go up 2–0 as the Series headed for Atlanta. The Yanks won the third game 5–2 behind Cone, but in game four, they trailed 6–3 going to the eighth and it appeared they would fall behind 3–1 in games.

But in the eighth, Bobby Cox brought in Mark Wohlers. Hayes and Strawberry both singled, and Jim Leyritz belted a three-run homer to left, another huge hit for the clutch Leyritz and a moment that gave definition to the impending era of Yankee baseball. If the bottom line was to win the Series, this was a bottom-line moment.

The Yankees won in the tenth inning and then won game five 1–0, Pettitte beating Smoltz, with Cecil Fielder driving in the only run. Now it was back to New York, and during the off day, Torre’s bother Frank, a former Milwaukee Brave, had a successful heart transplant. It heightened the emotion, not only for Torre but for the fans as well.

Game six featured a clutch triple by the hustling catcher Joe Girardi in the third inning as the Yanks scored three runs off Maddux. “When I got on third base, I almost started crying,” said Girardi later of his big hit. Girardi had emerged as both the team’s regular catcher and a mentor to young Jorge Posada.

Rivera shut down the Braves in the seventh and eighth, and then Wetteland did it in the ninth for his fourth save of the Series. Charlie Hayes, the August 30 pickup, caught the final out, and the Yankees won their twenty-third world championship and heralded in a new “feel-good” era that would last into the next century.

Torre was teary-eyed in finally winning it all. The team took a victory lap around the field, with Wade Boggs jumping on a police horse. Bob Watson
celebrated being the first African-American general manager to win a World Series. The city rejoiced as Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, a die-hard, Brooklyn-born Yankee fan, hosted a City Hall reception following the team’s World Series ticker-tape parade.