9 Days Until Spring Training: Roger Maris

In a perfect world, Mantle would have been the one to break Babe Ruth's single season home run record. Instead it was an aloof North Dakota native named Roger Maris who didn't come up with the Yankees, wasn't comfortable in New York, didn't get along with the media, and was never fully embraced by the fans.

Maris was signed by the Indians in 1953 for $5,000 and chose the path of professional baseball over a standing offer for a scholarship to Oklahoma State. In his first full season as a minor leaguer, Maris was assigned to the B-level Keokuk Kernels of the Illinois-Indiana-Iowa league. It was there that manager Jo Jo White taught him how to pull the ball and transformed from a solid hitter for average to a bona fide home run threat. That year, Maris hit 32 round trippers in 134 games and made his first significant strides towards becoming a Big Leaguer.

He made his debut on Opening Day 1957 for the Indians and hit the ground running with a 3 for 5 effort against the White Sox. The following day, he hit his first Major League home run, a go-ahead grand slam in the top of the 11th inning.

Maris was the starting center fielder for Indians in '57 but played all three OF positions, appearing in 116 games in total. He left his high batting averages in the minor leagues, hitting only .235 but his 14 home runs helped him to be a better than league average hitter (105 OPS+).

During the 1958 season, Maris was dealt to the A's for, among others, the immortal Woodie Held. Maris doubled his home run output from the previous year to 28 but hit only 19 doubles, saw his on base percentage dip below .300 and his OPS+ drop to 97. In 1959 he was transitioned to right field and began to put it all together at the plate, hitting .273/.359/.464 (123 OPS+) and was rewarded with a selection to the All-Star team.

The Yankees were tantalized by Maris' left handed power and were looking to give their team a boost after a third place finish in '59. They sent World Series hero Don Larsen, their two starting corner outfielders from the previous season, Hank Bauer and Norm Siebern along with 25 year old first baseman Marv Thornberry to Kansas City in exchange for Maris, Joe DeMaestri and Ken Hadley.

As he did in his first game in Cleveland, Maris made a great first impression as a Yankee, smacking two homers and a double in his debut against the Red Sox. He went on to win the AL MVP that season, nudging out Mickey Mantle by a scant 3 points in the voting. They had similar years at the plate but Maris, batting behind Mantle, drove in 18 more runs in 66 fewer plate appearances.

While the writers were willing to recognize Maris' accomplishments, many fans refused to embrace him as a True Yankee®. The Bombers were still very much Mickey Mantle's team and Maris' icy relationship with the New York media only served to further extend that perception.

While some still hold Maris' single season record up as the all-time mark, 1961 was far from a normal year in baseball and comes with it's own share of caveats.

Before 'the 61 season began, the AL expanded from eight to ten teams, adding the Los Angeles Angels and the Washington Senators by way of an expansion draft. Both teams selected Yankees with their first picks; the Angels took Eli Grba and the Senators claimed Bobby Shantz. The Yanks also lost Duke Maas, Dale Long, Bob Cerv, Ken Hunt, Bud Zipfel. The expansion draft weakened the overall talent pool in the league fairly significantly, but despite the pillaging, the Yankees were among the teams least affected.

That same season, the schedule was lengthened from 154 to 162 games. Commissioner Ford C. Frick, initially announced that in order to break Babe Ruth's record, it would have to be done in 154 games. He said:

Any player who hit more than sixty home runs during his club’s first 154 games would be recognized as having established a new record. However, if the player does not hit more than sixty until after his club has played 154 games, there would have to be some distinctive mark in the record books to show that Babe Ruth’s record was set under a 154 game schedule and the total of more than sixty was compiled while a 162 game schedule was in effect.

This was met with strong media backlash. The Sporting News placed it at #15 of the "most shameful acts in baseball history" and columnist Leonard Koppett called the decision "a remarkably foolish thing".

The prevailing wisdom at the time said the decision was prompted by Frick's loyalty to Ruth which could be traced back to Frick's days as a newspaper man. Frick had ghostwritten for Ruth in the past, allowing Ruth to "cover" every world series from 1921-1936 and wrote glowing columns about Ruth during his time with the New York Evening Journal.

Regardless of his perceived bias, Frick was making a logical choice. The tag of single season is rather arbitrary and it was clearly easier to reach 60 home runs given 8 extra games to say nothing of the substantially thinner pitching that resulted from expansion. Frick was stuck with two difficult choices: keep two separate rule books for each season length or give all players who came after 1961 an unfair advantage in breaking counting stat records. It was popular at the time, but his choice of the latter allowed one of the most hallowed records in sports to fall under dubious circumstances.

Maris' pursuit of the record wasn't especially popular with some living legends of the game either. Legendary second baseman Rogers Hornsby said at the time, "It would be a disappointment if Ruth's home run record were bested by a .270 hitter."

Partially because of the controversy surrounding his quest for 61, Maris was heckled and even had objects thrown at him on the field. He received hate mail, death threats and claimed his hair fell out "in clumps" as the season progressed. He had 59 HR after 154 games and hit his 61st on the last day of the season in the home half of the fourth inning against the Red Sox.

Maris spent five more seasons with the Yankees but his peak had decidedly past. While he was an above average hitter each of those five years, Maris never hit more than 33 home runs in a season and missed large chunks of 1963 and 1965 with injuries. He was ultimately traded after the 1966 season to the Cardinals in exchange for Charley Smith.

Despite breaking one of the most hallowed sports records of all time, Maris remained sour about the experience. During an interview at the 1980 All-Star game, he said:

They acted as though I was doing something wrong, poisoning the record books or something. Do you know what I have to show for 61 home runs? Nothing. Exactly nothing.

He passed away 5 years later from Hodgkin's Lymphoma at the age of 51.

Maris was a victim of our casting. Despite the fact that sports are unscripted, we still expect the right characters to come out on top. Mickey Mantle was the former farmhand, Yankee legend, the Hall of Famer, the rags to riches story from Oklahoma. He partied with the rat pack, Joe D. and Marylin Monroe, and had the key to the city. He was supposed to be the one to break Babe Ruth's record. Maris was the ostracized Kansas City transplant, who should have came up short. But that's not the way life works and while Maris' peak was far too short to earn him a spot in Cooperstown, he has a place in Monument Park.

11 Days Until Spring Training: Lefty Gomez

Yankee history is teeming with all-time great offensive forces: Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Berra, Mantle. But its history of hurlers is a little less prolific. There are several former Yankee pitchers in the Hall of Fame, most of them there primarily for what they accomplished in pinstripes. But the Yankee pitchers in the Hall of Fame lack the "inner circle" status of their offensive brethren.

The earliest Yankee pitcher in the Hall is Jack Chesbro. Poached from the Pirates when the Highlanders began play in 1903, Chesbro pitched for the club during their first six seasons of existence. He led the AL with 41 wins, 48 complete games, and 454.2 IP in 1904, but notoriously uncorked a ninth inning wild pitch on the season's final day, costing the Highlanders the back end of a double header against the Boston Pilgrims and handing the pennant to their future arch rivals by a game and a half.

Waite Hoyt and Herb Pennock led the pitching staff through the 1920s, as the team won their first pennants and World Series titles. But both were acquired from other organizations, as was Red Ruffing, a Hall of Famer himself, who joined the club in 1930. For the next thirteen years Ruffing would team the Yankees first homegrown ace to lead the team to seven pennants and six World Series championships.

Vernon Louis Gomez was adorned with the same nickname virtually every southpaw pitcher answered to in that era: "Lefty". Purchased from the San Francisco Seals of the Pacific Coast League in 1929, Gomez followed Tony Lazzeri from the same talent-rich northern California pipeline that the Yankees would later use to acquire Frank Crosetti, Joe DiMaggio, Gil McDougald, and Billy Martin. Gomez was of Mexican descent, but he was fortunate to be fair skinned enough to play in the Majors in the years before integration.

He made his Major League debut early in the 1930 season but also spent part of the year at the Yankees' AA affiliate in St. Paul. His Major League line wasn't pretty, just 2-5 with 5.55 ERA over 60 innings, most of them coming in relief. Gomez rebounded in a big way for his sophomore campaign, becoming the staff ace and leading the club in IP, wins, strikeouts, and ERA. His ERA slipped slightly below league average the following year, but he still led the club in wins and ERA, and finished fifth in MVP voting as the Yankees won their first World Series in four years. In post season play for the first time in his career, Gomez went the distance in Game Two of the Series, allowing just ten baserunners and a lone earned run on the way to a sweep of the Cubs.

Lefty turned in another solid campaign in 1933, again leading the Yankees in wins and ERA, falling just a third of an inning shy of tying Ruffing for the club lead, and leading the AL in strikeouts for the first of three times in his career. He followed that with the best season he would ever have. He led the American League in wins, winning percentage, ERA, ERA+, complete games, shutouts, strikeouts, and WHIP, earning him a third place finish in the MVP voting.

Gomez' record slipped below .500 in 1935, but his peripheral numbers were still excellent as he and Ruffing again fronted the pitching staff. The two would combine to carry the staff to an unprecedented four straight World Series titles from 1936-1939. Gomez went 64-38 (.627) over that stretch, with a 138 ERA+. He led the league in wins, ERA, and strikeouts in '37, marking the second pitching Triple Crown of his career. He also led the League in shutouts in '37 and '38. He won five World Series games over that run, leaving him with 6-0 record and 2,86 ERA in seven starts in the Fall Classic.

Gomez began to fade a bit towards the end of that historic run, falling just under 200 IP for the first time in his career in 1939. He was limited to just nine games in 1940, but rebounded pitch on pennant winners in 1941 and '42. He didn't see any action in those World Series, and was sold to the Braves in early 1943. Gomez never appeared for them, landed in Washington for one last start, and called it a career.

At the time of his retirement, Gomez was likely the best pitcher the Yankees ever had. A seven time All-Star, Gomez got the start in the first three All-Star games in history, five overall, and earned three wins in the Mid-Summer Classic. He had three top ten MVP finishes in the days before the Cy Young Award, and retired second to Ruffing on the Yankees all time wins, innings, strikeouts, games started, complete games, and shutout lists. His ERA+ of 125 bettered Ruffing (119) and still ranks ninth on the team's all-time leaderboard.

Always a quick thinker and quipster during his playing career, Gomez became a favorite on the off-season banquet circuit after his retirement. He remained in the Yankees organization as a manager, skippering the AA Binghamton squad in the late forties. Whitey Ford would go on to replace Gomez and Ruffing as the best pitcher in franchise history. Both Gomez and Ford were honored with plaques in Monument Park in August 1987. Ruffing would join them there in 2004. Gomez was unanimously elected to the Hall of Fame by the Veterans Committee in 1972, five years after Ruffing and two years before Ford.

15 Days Until Spring Training: Thurman Munson

Aside from the natural ability to hit and play the position, Thurman Munson had plenty of characteristics that perfectly suited him to be the Yankees' catcher. He was pugnacious, rugged and passionate, willing to sacrifice his body on any given play. He was simultaneously proud and humble, holding the game of baseball in the highest regard. Furthermore, he had a mean-ass mustache and hated the Red Sox. Boy, did he hate the Red Sox. I'd like to think that if he was alive today, old Squatty Body would have rather liked the name of this blog.

The above sequence is from a game at Fenway, on August 1st, 1973. Stick Michael was up to bat in the top of the 9th with the score tied, and failed to make contact on a suicide squeeze, unleashing Munson down the third baseline towards Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. Munson led with a left forearm and Pudge went low, sending the two tumbling over home plate. Fisk held onto the ball, Munson was out, and they quickly got to their feet and began exchanging blows.

Munson and Pudge had a contentious rivalry which extended beyond your typical rival hatred. Although some elements of the feud may have been exaggerated in Munson's biography written by Christopher Devine, there was a legitimate dislike between the two that was exacerbated by the teams they played for.

Perhaps the seeds of Munson's hatred of Boston were planted, like mine, in the time he spent there as a young man. In the summer of 1967, Joe "Skippy" Lewis, manager of the Chatham A's of the Cape Cod Baseball League offered Munson a spot as their starting catcher, along with a side job with the Chatham Parks Department for $75 a week. In 39 games that summer, Munson hit .420 as a catcher, .65 higher than any other other player in the league and was named MVP of the league. Now, the winner of the CCBL batting title receives the Thurman Munson Award.

It was during his time on the Cape that he was discovered by the Yankees. They selected him with the fourth overall pick in the 1968 Amateur Draft, gave him a $75,000 signing bonus and a $500 per week salary.

Munson made his debut in 1969 but appeared in only 26 games. In 1970, he won Rookie of the Year, netting 96% of the vote after batting .302/.386/.415. While remaining solid behind the plate, Munson had two years in 1971 & '72 where he was above league average, but unspectacular offensively.

Although it was not recognized as such by the MVP voting, 1973 was Munson's finest year as a hitter. He raked 29 doubles, 20 homers and hit .301/.362/.487, good for a 141 OPS+. That season was also the beginning of Thurm's three year Gold Glove and six year All-Star appearance streaks. In each of those six years, Munson placed in the MVP voting and played 144 games or more behind the plate.

He was named Yankee captain in 1975, claiming a post that Lou Gehrig vacated with his farewell speech in 1939. In 1976, Munson clocked 17 homers, 27 doubles, drove in 105 runs and was rewarded with the AL MVP, receiving 18 out of a possible 24 first place votes. A testament to his hard-headed, competitive nature, that year he stole 14 bases but was caught 11 times. In fact, over his career, he was actually caught more than he was successful, stealing only 48 bases in 98 tries.

Munson was behind the plate for Ron Guidry's legendary 1978 season, where he went 25-3 with a 1.74ERA. Guidry later said about Munson, "I went through the whole year never shaking him off one time. He always knew when to say something, and when to shut up."

Munson had three children who lived with his wife in Canton, Ohio, where he grew up. He often grew homesick and decided to take flying lessons to make it easier to commute back and forth to see his family. On August 2nd, 1979, he was practicing take-offs and landings at Akron-Canton Regional Airport when he met his untimely end.

On the approach to the runway, Munson dropped the flaps on the wings of his Cessna Citation I/SP, but waited too long before giving the plane more power. As a result, the aircraft came up well short of the intended target. Munson had failed to fasten his shoulder strap, was paralyzed during the initial impact and trapped inside the cockpit when the plane finally came to a rest after rolling and sliding for over 500 feet. His flight instructor, David Hall and his friend Kenny Anderson attempted to free Munson, but the plane caught on fire and they were forced to retreat. His last words were "Get me out of here! Please get me out!" A tragic and powerless cry for help that in no way reflected the way he lived. He was 32 years old.

Munson's funeral was held four days later on August 6th in Canton, Ohio. Lou Pinella and other Yankees spoke while Bobby Murcer delivered the eulogy that morning. That same day, the team took the field back in the Bronx to face the Orioles. Ron Guidry started but through the top of the 7th, the Yanks were down 4-0. Then with two outs in the bottom half of the frame, Bucky Dent worked a walk. Willie Randolph followed with a double, bringing up Murcer. Facing Dennis Martinez, Murcer blasted a three run shot, bringing the Yanks within one.

Guidry remained in the game, holding the O's at 4 through the tops of the 8th and 9th. Just as it was in the 7th, Bucky Dent reached base on a walk in the 9th, putting the tying run on base. Next up, Willie Randolph laid down a bunt in an attempt to move Dent over but Tippy Martinez made a throwing error that allowed the runners to advance to second and third. This brought up Murcer once again and he poked a single to left which drove in the tying and winning runs. Guidry got a complete game win and Murcer drove in all five runs for the Yankees.

Despite it's brevity, Thurm's career was one of constant success. In each of his nine full seasons as a player, he captured either the Rookie of the Year, Gold Glove, MVP, or a World Series Championship.

When someone dies young, they are enshrined in our minds in their youth. There is a different legacy left than when we watch a person decline with age, grow frail and forget people's names. We see the sad portrayal of modern day Muhammad Ali, but only remember the dynamic vibrance of a prime Jimi Hendrix.

Munson's number was retired immediately after his death and an empty locker with the number 15 was kept in the Yankees Clubhouse through the closing of the Old Stadium. Written by George Steinbrenner, his plaque in Monument Park reads:

Our captain and leader has not left us, today, tomorrow, this year, next ... Our endeavors will reflect our love and admiration for him.

The 30th annual Thurman Munson Awards dinner will be held tonight at the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan and will honor Joba Chamberlain, Darryl Strawberry and Lou Pinella, among others. The foundation has raised over $10M for children and adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities since its inception.

Remembering The Captain

We'll take a brief respite from the trade dealine madness to remember what is likely the most tragic day in Yankee history. Sunday marks the thirty year anniversary of the death of Thurman Munson.

As we counted down to Spring Training, Jay had a great look back at Munson. That was before my time at Fack Youk, and as we approach this sad anniversary I wanted to offer my own remembrance. Despite his passing more than thirteen months before I was born, Munson has long been one of my favorite Yankees. I suppose it stems from my father; with the possible exception of Mickey Mantle, Munson is his all-time favorite.

As I grew interested in baseball, it was of course my father who taught me about baseball history and about Yankee history, and of course, there was the obligatory Munson lesson. At some point in my youth I inherited the #15 Yankee t-shirt my father had outgrown. Age and wear and tear eventually rendered that shirt unwearable, but a Munson shirt I purchased in Cooperstown some years ago remains my shirt of choice when venturing to the Bronx.

One of the first games I can recall going to was shortly after the tenth anniversary of Munson's death. I can recall visiting his plaque in Monument Park that day, as well as receiving the commemorative issue of Yankees Magazine that I read until it fell apart. A few years later I came upon Munson's autobiography, co-authored by Marty Appel, and read that one over and over. I recently completed Appel's comprehensive Munson biography. I have mixed feelings about the book - and may well review it here at some point - but by default it has to be considered the definitive work on Munson and I would recommend it to anyone wanting to know more about him.

What is it about Munson that makes him so beloved thirty years after he last played? Certainly his untimely demise plays into it, as his does his role as the face of the Yankees during the most colorful period of their history. A Rookie of the Year award, MVP award, three Gold Gloves awards, three pennants, and two World Championships certainly help too, as does serving as the first Yankee Captain since Lou Gehrig.

But more than that, I think there was something inherently likeable about Munson. Despite his midwestern roots and sensibilities, his personality was also sarcastic and confident enough to endear him to New York fans. His squatty, unathletic-looking build made him appear as a scrappy over-achiever, despite his natural talents. He perpetually played hurt, and despite the madness of the Bronx Zoo years, Munson usually managed to stay above the fray. He was the face of the franchise as they emerged from the worst stretch of their post-deadball history back to being a championship club.

But those are just my impressions looking back on a player I wasn't lucky enough to see. So what do you say Fackers? For those of you who saw him play, what are your memories of The Captain?

(I know I'm breaking our black and white image policy,

but I love the orange catcher's gear)

Number of Days Until Spring Training: Roger Maris (#9)

It wasn't supposed to be Roger Maris. He didn't come up through the Yankees system, as he was acquired in the trade that sent Don Larsen to the Kansas City A's in 1959. He didn't get along with the New York media, and was considered surly.

Even though Maris won the AL MVP in his first year with the Yankees, they were still considered Mickey Mantle's team in 1961. Maris was an outsider and not considered a True Yankee(TM). In a perfect world, Mantle would have been the one to break Babe Ruth's single season home run record. Fate did not agree and Mantle suffered a leg infection late in the season that hindered him from topping the mark. He ended up with 54HR.

Before the 1961 season, the AL expanded from eight to ten teams, adding the Los Angeles Angels and the Washington Senators by way of an expansion draft. Both teams selected Yankees with their first picks; the Angels took Eli Grba and the Senators claimed Bobby Shantz. The Yanks also lost Duke Maas, Dale Long, Bob Cerv, Ken Hunt, Bud Zipfel. The expansion draft weakened the overall talent pool in the league fairly significantly, but despite the pillaging, the Yankees were among the teams least affected.

That same season, the schedule was lengthened from 154 to 162 games. Commissioner Ford C. Frick, initially announced that in order to break Babe Ruth's record, it would have to be done in 154 games. He said:

Any player who hit more than sixty home runs during his club’s first 154 games would be recognized as having established a new record. However, if the player does not hit more than sixty until after his club has played 154 games, there would have to be some distinctive mark in the record books to show that Babe Ruth’s record was set under a 154 game schedule and the total of more than sixty was compiled while a 162 game schedule was in effect.

This was met with strong media backlash. The Sporting News placed it at #15 of the most shameful acts in baseball history and columnist Leonard Koppett called the decision "a remarkably foolish thing". The negative reaction was certainly magnified by the fact that this was occurring in the first year of the extended schedule and the first year after the expansion.

The prevailing wisdom at the time said the decision was prompted by Frick's loyalty to Ruth which could be traced back to Frick's days as a newspaper man. Frick had ghostwritten for Ruth in the past, allowing Ruth to "cover" every world series from 1921-1936 and wrote glowing columns about him in the New York Evening Journal.

[Ed. Note: I leaned pretty heavily on an artcile by John Carvalho called "Haunted by the Babe: Frick's Columns About Ruth". The above links don't do it justice, so you can access the PDF here.]

Personally, I can't understand why this was such a big deal. Babe Ruth hit 60 home runs in 154 games. The tag of "single season" is arbitrary. It should have to be broken in the same amount of games. I guess people at the time felt like by keeping two separate sets of records, baseball was divorcing itself from it's storied past.

The alternative they chose, however, diluted the Babe's most prized record, and allowed for it to be broken during a longer season against weaker competition.

Aside from his boorish persona, Maris just wasn't a truly great player (see to the right). He had an extremely sharp career peak, winning back to back AL MVPs with the Yankees, but only made two All-Star games outside of those two seasons. Legendary second baseman Rogers Hornsby said at the time, "It would be a disappointment if Ruth's home run record were bested by a .270 hitter."

Maris had 59 HR after 154 games and hit his 61st on the last day of the season in the home half of the fourth inning against the Red Sox.

Due in no small way to the controversey surrounding his quest for 61, Maris was heckled and even had objects thrown at hit on the field. He said he received hate mail, death threats and claimed his hair fell out "in clumps" as the season progressed.

Despite breaking one of the most hallowed sports records of all time, Maris remained sour about the experience. During an interview at the 1980 All-Star game, he said:

They acted as though I was doing something wrong, poisoning the record books or something. Do you know what I have to show for 61 home runs? Nothing. Exactly nothing.

Maris was a victim of our casting. Despite the fact that sports are unscripted, we still expect the right characters to come out on top. Mickey Mantle was the former farmhand, Yankee legend, the Hall of Famer, the rags to riches story from Oklahoma. He partied with the rat pack, Joe D. and Marylin Monroe, and had the key to the city. Maris was the ostracized Kansas City transplant, but primarily on the strength on his 1961 season, Maris has his spot in Monument Park as well.

[Ed Note: 61* is a pretty good movie despite having Billy Crystal's annoying fingerprints all over it.]

Number of Days Until Spring Training: Thurman Munson (#15)

Thurman Munson was the embodiment of the core values of a Yankee catcher. He was pugnacious, rugged, could hit and play great defense, had a mean-ass mustache, and hated the Red Sox. Boy, did he hate the Red Sox. I'd like to think that if he was alive today, old Squatty Body would have rather liked the name of this blog.

The above sequence is from a game at Fenway, on August 1st, 1973. Stick Michael was up to bat in the top of the 9th with the score tied, and failed to make contact on a suicide squeeze, unleashing Munson down the third baseline towards Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. Munson led with a left forearm and Pudge went low, sending the two tumbling over home plate. Fisk held onto the ball, Munson was out, and they quickly got to their feet and began exchanging blows.


Perhaps the seeds of Munson's hatred of Boston were planted, like mine, in the time he spent there as a young man. In the summer of 1967, Joe "Skippy" Lewis, manager of the Chatham A's of the Cape Cod Baseball League offered Munson a spot as their starting catcher, along with a side job with the Chatham Parks Department for $75 a week. In 39 games that summer, Munson hit .420 as a catcher, .65 higher than any other other player in the league, regardless of position. He was named MVP of the CCBL and the award for the batting title each year is named in his honor.

It was during his time on the Cape that he was discovered by the Yankees. They selected him with the fourth overall pick in the 1968 Amateur Draft, gave him a $75,000 signing bonus and a $500 a week salary.

Munson made his debut in 1969 but appeared in only 26 games. In 1970, he won Rookie of the Year, netting 96% of the vote after batting .302/.386/.415. While remaining solid behind the plate, Munson had two years in 1971 & '72 where he was above league average, but unspectacular offensively.

Although it was not recognized as such by the MVP voting, 1973 was Munson's finest year behind the plate. He raked 29 doubles, 20 homers and hit .301/.362/.487, good for a 141 OPS+. '73 also began Thurm's three year Gold Glove and six year All-Star appearance streaks. In each of those six years, Munson placed in the MVP voting and played 144 games or more behind the plate.

He was named Yankee captain in 1975, claiming a post that Lou Gehrig vacated with his farewell speech in 1939. In 1976, Munson clocked 17 homers, 27 doubles, drove in 105 runs and was rewarded with the AL MVP, receiving 18 out of a possible 24 first place votes. A testament to his hard-headed, competitive nature, that year he stole 14 bases, but was caught 11 times. In fact, over his career, he was actually caught more than he was successful, stealing only 48 bases in 98 tries.

Munson was behind the plate for Ron Guidry's legendary 1978 season, where he went 25-3 with a 1.74ERA. Guidry later said about Munson, "I went through the whole year never shaking him off one time. He always knew when to say something, and when to shut up."

Munson had three children who lived with his wife in Canton, Ohio, where he grew up. He often grew homesick and decided to take flying lessons to make it easier to commute back and forth to see his family. On August 2nd, 1979, he was practicing take-offs and landings at Akron-Canton Regional Airport, when he met his end.

On the approach to the runway, Munson dropped the flaps, but waited too long before giving the plane more power, which resulted in the Cessna Citation I/SP coming up well short of the intended target. Munson had failed to fasten his shoulder strap, was paralyzed during the initial impact and trapped inside the cockpit when the plane finally came to a rest after rolling and sliding for over 500 feet. His flight instructor, David Hall and his friend Kenny Anderson attempted to free Munson, but the plane caught on fire and they were forced to retreat. His last words were "Get me out of here! Please get me out!" A tragic and powerless cry for help, that in no way reflected the way he lived. He was 32 years old.

When someone dies young, they are enshrined in our minds in their youth. There is a different legacy left than when we watch a person decline with age, grow frail and forget people's names. We see the sad portrayal of modern day Muhammad Ali, but only remember the dynamic vibrance of a prime Jimi Hendrix.

Munson's number was retired immediately after his death and an empty locker with the number 15 was kept in the Yankees Clubhouse through the closing of the Old Stadium. Written by George Steinbrenner, his plaque in Monument Park reads:

Our captain and leader has not left us, today, tomorrow, this year, next ... Our endeavors will reflect our love and admiration for him.

Like Don Mattingly, the brevity of Munson's career will keep him out of the Hall of Fame, but that doesn't matter to Yankees fans, who have their own Hall of Fame in left field.

Torre Confirms What Everyone Suspected

I can't imagine Joe Torre's new book is going to have too positive of an impact on his legacy as Yankee Manager.

Teammates frequently called Alex Rodriguez "A-Fraud," and the third baseman was obsessed over his rivalry with shortstop Derek Jeter, "The Yankee Years" reveals, according to the New York Daily News and New York Post.

Wait, what? You mean the thinly veiled fraudulence that shines through a TV screen like high beam xenon headlights coming towards you on a two lane road is evident to the people who spent all of spring training, the entire regular season and possibly one series in October with him?

Let's just say that a little nymph that dwells on one of his frosted tips told me where he was on New Year's Eve, he has a limp dick handshake and that despite his Dominican heritage he has the dancing skills of a UNIX programmer named Preston. He was wearing a fucking sweater even though he was celebrating south of the Tropic of Cancer but north of the Equator.

I want to like this guy, I swear. I've never booed him at the Stadium and probably never will. His 2007 was the stuff of legends. Um, .314/.422/.645 as a competent third baseman, 24 SB to only 4 CS, 54 HR, 31 2B and 156 RsBI (h/t FJM). Surreal. He's driven in over 100 runs in every single full season as a major leaguer except one (when he still earned an All-Star berth).

No matter what, we've got him for another 9 years; under no circumstances is he getting traded. He's a consistently incredible force behind the plate, solid in the field, but an unimaginable headcase. He's got a strange mix of cockiness and insecurity found only in Phil Helmuth, Oscar De La Hoya and other such very successful but transparently douchetastic phonies.

Really though... Wow, Joe Torre. I didn't think a tell-all book was in your future. Ironic that you once famously said to Michael Kay, "I don't need you to be Rona Barrett around here" in reference to the long time gossip columnist and now you are spilling your guts like a 13 year old girl. I'm guessing this means that there might still be a single digit number up for grabs in Monument Park?

Number of Days Until Spring Training: #23 (Mattingly)

There are 23 days remaining until catchers and pitchers report. The number 23 on the New York Yankees was last shouldered by a man that needs no introduction... Sir Donald Arthur Mattingly, a.k.a. The Hitman a.k.a. Donnie Baseball. From 1984-1987, he had the makings of a surefire Hall of Famer.

In 1984, at age 23, in his first full season in The Bigs, he finished 5th in the MVP voting after batting .343 with a 156 OPS+.

In '85 Donnie batted .324 (3rd in the league) with 35 home runs (4th), 48 doubles (1st), and 145 RBIs (1st), then the most RBIs in a season by a left-handed major leaguer since Ted Williams drove in 159 in 1949. Don's efforts were recognized with his first and only MVP award.

He had another spectacular season in 1986, losing the MVP Award vote to only pre-tractor-teeth-pulling/forehead ear Roger Clemens. In '87 he racked up 30 homers and 115 RBIs and finished 7th in the voting despite only playing 141 games. That year, Mattingly tied a major league record by hitting home runs in eight consecutive games, set a major league record by hitting six grand slams (somehow, the only 6 of his career) and got an extra base hit in 10 consecutive games.

Donnie's career was cut short by a series of ongoing back problems starting in 1987. He retired in 1995, a season before the longest World Series drought in Yankee history ended. Unfortunately for Yankees fans, his bad back is going to keep him out of Cooperstown. However, his outstanding career batting numbers, his amazing 1984-1987, and his 9 Gold Glove awards were recognized by the Yankees when they retired his #23 and placed a plaque in Monument Park to honor him on August 31, 1997. His plaque reads:

"A humble man of grace and dignity, a captain who led by example, proud of
the pinstripe tradition and dedicated to the pursuit of excellence, a Yankee
forever."

On a personal note, I love Don Mattingly. He is my favorite Yankee of all time and the reason I started liking the Yankees in the first place. I saw him at training camp in 1991 and he gave me a baseball which he then signed a few hours later. I was seven years old then, 24 now, and that ball still adorns my dresser.

God Bless the Yankees, God Bless Don Mattingly, and God Bless these United States of America.