Loss Of The Boss...

I couldn't believe I was standing at the Deli counter at Publix crying.

But, it's true.

I was standing there waiting to get sandwiches for myself and my girlfriend, and I was shedding tears over George Steinbrenner (not pictured).

This was absurd to me.

George was the owner.

That's it.

He wrote the checks.

He never caught a flyball, drove in a run, or stole a base.

So why did I care so much?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The short answer is that I'm a loser.

But that wouldn't make for a very interesting blog.

I didn't realize I had such an emotional pull towards Steinbrenner, until the day that he died (isn't that always the way).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I kept saying to myself: I feel like the Yankees died today.

I called my father (I know it's a cliche to say that baseball is between fathers and sons--- but it's true--- it's the most consistent part of our relationship).

My dad basically said, That's life.

He's a neurosurgeon.

Death is sort of par for the course with that profession.

And I appreciated his point of view.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I met George once when I was a kid.

It was at Spring Training.

He was surrounded.

He was wearing a white Yankees jacket.

I managed to find my way to approach him.

I was that kid.

I could ALWAYS get to the athlete and get the prized autograph (a skill that has served me well throughout my life).

He signed an autograph and was really nice about it.

But that wasn't it.

I once was able to get an autograph of the rapper Ice Cube at a Heat game (that was a good day) and yet I don't feel the same emotional pull towards him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After a day of thinking about it, I finally put my finger on why I was so upset.

My father grew up in the era of Mickey Mantle.

He still tells stories about taking the Subway to Bronx Science and seeing the Mick in the outfield.

Championships were expected.

I grew up watching Yankee games on WPIX.

As charming as Phil Rizzuto was, the Yankees sucked (he had more shoutouts than an award show, often at the expense of the broadcast, LOVED Scooter).

I felt the Yankees never gave Don Mattingly the team he deserved.

It always bothered me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It bothered Steinbrenner just as much.

That's why I loved him.

Steinbrenner demanded excellence.

He would do WHATEVER was necessary to make sure the Yankee franchise was returned to its glory days.

Yes, there are people who say, it was Steinbrenner's suspension from baseball that allowed the Yankee dynasty to bloom.

He was out of the game, and so he couldn't trade away the likes of Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, and on and on.

I don't see it that way.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For better or worse, George Steinbrenner was America.

Unbridled capitalism and excess.

For crying out loud, he was born on the 4th of July.

Steinbrenner fancied himself a modern-day Patton and deluded himself into thinking he had more to do with the outcome of the games, than he actually did.

But, as a Yankee fan, I always knew this: He would try.

George cared about putting the ultimate product on the field, every day.

That's all you can really ask from an owner.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Many of my best memories in life revolve around the Yankees.

I kept the ticket stub from Game 1 of the 2000 World Series in my wallet until it evaporated.

I was at Duke.

I flew to New York.

My dad, brother and I had bleacher seats in right field for the first game of the Subway series.

The Yankees won on a hit by Jose Vizcaino. That building shook.

I remember flying to San Diego for the clinching game in the 1998 World Series.

I nearly crapped my pants when Jim Leyritz nearly hit the ball out for San Diego, but the ball fell short, and the Yanks completed the sweep.

I can't count the number of times my mother dressed a dog up in Yankees gear.

My mother would routinely pull me out of school to go to Spring Training games in Fort Lauderdale.

I never stayed home from school being sick, wasn't allowed, but Yankee games were sacred.

I've smoked countless victory cigars with my friend Will.

From March until November every year, I can count on the Yankees fielding a great to outstanding team.

I'm a jumpy dude.

The Yankees are one of a handful of things that can actually allow me to relax.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All of that is because of Steinbrenner and the culture that he reinstilled.

The Yankees were lost for a while.

Steinbrenner put them back on course.

I can't give him enough credit for that.

So yeah, maybe it wasn't so bad that I cried.

I really hope he's honored in November with Championship 28.

I promise when I'm smoking my victory cigar, I'l think of the Boss and say the one thing every Yankee fan should: Thank you!