The Daily News
http://www.nydailynews.com
July 15, 2010
Casale/News
George Steinbrenner, as Reggie Jackson says, 'makes owning a team feel like a contact sport.'
This isn't about the scorecard being kept now, like the one you keep at the ballpark, putting all the good George Steinbrenner did against the bad, trying to come up with some kind of final score on the man now that he is gone.
This isn't about how for every Catfish Hunter and Reggie Jackson and Goose Gossage he brought to Yankee Stadium in the 1970s, there came a Dave Collins and Steve Kemp and Steve Trout in the 1980s - "I just won you the pennant!" Steinbrenner told Lou Piniella once. "I got you Steve Trout!" - and how by the end of that decade Steinbrenner looked dumber than Dolan.
This isn't about trying to balance the Steinbrenner who gave so much money to charity and helped so many people against the one who insulted Yogi Berra enough that Yogi stayed away from the Yankees and Yankee Stadium for 14 years.
This isn't even about the money, though talking about Steinbrenner without talking about Yankee money is like talking about the Yankees and leaving out the part about Mickey Mantle. Or pinstripes.
Instead, this is about the real reason why people are talking about George Steinbrenner all over again:
He was the only owner people came to watch own.
Others have tried since George Steinbrenner came to town, you know they have, tried way too hard, the way Mark Cuban does. Or Danny Snyder of the Redskins. Jerry Jones makes you watch him, but mostly because Jones is down on the sideline trying to look like the coach of the team. Steinbrenner? He was hardly ever on the field at Yankee Stadium. Try to remember seeing him out there before he made that last trip around the field at the All-Star Game of 2008.
Still, when he had his chops, when he was at the top of his voice - whether the Yankees were at the top of baseball or not - he went against everything you ever heard about how nobody comes to watch a manager manage. Or a coach coach his team.
Or an owner own.
It's like Reggie Jackson, the real game-changer for Steinbrenner, a star made for him and New York, the first free agent in sports worth talking about, says:
"George made owning his team feel like a contact sport."
Didn't he, though?
Reggie found out firsthand, getting romanced by Steinbrenner on his way into town, practically getting driven to the city limits when Steinbrenner got tired of him, when Steinbrenner decided that he loved Dave Winfield more. Like some old fool falling for a younger woman.
Reggie went with the Angels. He came back to Yankee Stadium the first time as an Angel and hit a home run - of course - and then the fans down close to the field were turning toward Steinbrenner's box and pointing and chanting, "Steinbrenner Sucks." Like it was the owner of the team who had thrown the pitch that Reggie had hit over the wall.
When the game was over that night, Reggie was in the lobby at the old Stadium with some friends. The elevator door opened. Steinbrenner. He saw Reggie standing there.
He let the door close without saying a word.
Reggie stayed a while longer, not wanting to leave. It had been a big night for him, he was back at the Stadium, he had hit one out against Ron Guidry. The elevator came back down to the lobby a few minutes later. Doors opened. Steinbrenner. Again.
He let the door close again.
After all the winning they'd done together, and as close as they would be much later in Steinbrenner's life, now had come this night when it was as if Reggie had won and the owner of the Yankees had lost.
Another night when it was as if Steinbrenner, even upstairs, made people think he was down there in the middle of the ring. You had to be there. You did. You saw guys come to the Yankees and buckle under the pressure of playing for an owner who would call them out in the papers, or to their faces. When that happened, there was an expression for it from the veterans in the Yankee clubhouse.
They said that player had been "Georged."
So in addition to everything else he was in the old days, Steinbrenner was also a verb.
Steinbrenner was present even when he wasn't. It was why part of the sadness of these last years was reading these ridiculous press releases from him. It was seeing people running down to the field, giddy, with some quote they got off him on his way to the car, this aging man who didn't always recognize old friends, or faces, at the old Stadium even when he was still showing up.
He was still the owner, just in name only. Even as there was all this coverage about The Boss of old, instead of an old Boss. As if he were still calling his manager during games, as if he were still the guy Dallas Green finally called "Manager George," Green's way of getting himself fired, he'd had enough of Steinbrenner's meddling.
Jerry Jones is right there on the sideline. The thing about Steinbrenner was he never needed to be. Somehow he was right there for you anyway, even when the television cameras couldn't find him anywhere. He fired people and bullied people and made you think he'd lost his mind sometimes. It's all there on the scorecard.
If you saw it all, you know. Of course you weren't buying your ticket to watch him own. With this owner, it just felt that way sometimes.
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