Death of Hero

By Ian O'Connor
Bergen County Record
http://www.northjersey.com
Sunday, July 13, 2008

Daily News' game story on the morning of Aug. 7, 1979...
Credits: News

...tells tale of Murcer's five-RBI performance on the day before - after the Yankees buried Murcer's teammate and close friend, catcher Thurman Munson.
Credits: AP

Death brought out the best in the ballplayer and the man. His teammate, Thurman Munson, died in a plane crash and Bobby Murcer offered up a eulogy straight from his broken heart.
"The life of a soul on earth lasts longer than his departure," Murcer read from the works of an educator named Angelo Patri. "He lives on in your life and the life of all others who knew him."

In the Bronx that night, the summer of '79, just weeks after he made it back home after his time with the Giants and Cubs, Murcer was finally bigger than the Yankee he was supposed to be, Mickey Mantle.

Murcer was the most genuine Yankee hero since the day Lou Gehrig declared himself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

Billy Martin didn't want to put him out there, didn't want him playing a game right after he buried his dear friend. Murcer insisted. He hit a three-run homer in the seventh and a two-run single in the ninth to beat the first-place Orioles and prove that there were indeed angels in the outfield, unseen forces conspiring to give Murcer his greatest game at his worst hour.

I'll never forget watching it on TV, nor will any member of a generation of boys who grew up imitating Murcer's stance and hoping against hope he could somehow rise to those comparisons to the Mick.

Murcer came out of Mantle's state, Oklahoma, and was signed by Mantle's scout, Tom Greenwade, and eventually landed in Mantle's position, center field.

He didn't have Mantle's career, and he didn't need to have that kind of career to go down among the most dignified figures in the history of America's most famous team.

"Bobby had such a pleasant way about him," Roy White said Saturday, "that he made it so easy to like him. We did a lot of talking about hitting. I was like his personal hitting coach back then. He'd say, ‘Hey Roy, watch me. What am I doing wrong?' But Bobby didn't do too much wrong."

Murcer came up a shortstop, White a second baseman. They both ended up in the outfield on Yankee teams that failed to honor the franchise's fabled past.

A wretched year at Shea Stadium, during the Bronx renovation, dramatically altered Murcer's career. He would be traded to the Giants for Bobby Bonds.

"If [Murcer] stayed in Yankee Stadium," White said, "with that perfect Yankee Stadium stroke, his stature as a player would be much greater today."

White hung on long enough to be part of the '77 and '78 championship teams, and was nearly named MVP of the '78 World Series. By the time Murcer made it back to the Bronx, the Yankees were done winning titles. He went hitless in the only three World Series at bats of his career in '81, when the Dodgers won in six.

But Murcer died Saturday a forever Yankee, anyway. "A born Yankee," George Steinbrenner called him.

Murcer was a five-time All-Star, a Gold Glove outfielder, and later a gentleman of the management suites and the broadcast booth.

He was also the maker of a Yankee Stadium moment that will survive the wrecking ball to come. On Aug. 6, 1979, "Bobby won a game all by himself," White said.

Murcer gave his bat to Munson's widow, Diana. Some 29 years later, gone at 62, Murcer leaves a legacy defined by his generosity of spirit and the courage he showed in living with brain cancer.

He didn't need to be Mickey Mantle to touch them all.