Bye George

George Steinbrenner was known as “The Boss.”

To my dad, George Steinbrenner really was the boss.

For a couple of years.

In the early 1980’s, the heyday of the Steinbrenner World Domination Tour, my father worked in the front office for the New York Yankees.

My dad grew up as a fan of the pinstripes, across the river in Jersey City, New Jersey, so working for the Yankees was a dream come true.

Working for George Steinbrenner, well that’s another story.

Mr. Steinbrenner, as I called him the one time I answered the phone at our apartment and he was on the other line, passed away Tuesday at the age of 80.

George and I didn’t have too many one-to-one’s when my dad was with the team.  He was too busy firing managers.

So unfortunately I don’t have any of those juicy first hand George Steinbrenner stories that best selling books are made of.

But I do have some stories about me.

(I guess that’s like, Michael Crawford won’t be here tonight.  So playing the role of The Phantom is Shecky Greene.  Sorry.)

As a 14-year old who just loved the game of baseball, I was able to go places nobody my age was allowed to go.

Like the time during the 1982 Yankees Spring Training when my dad had the team's batting coach Mickey Vernon check out my swing.

Mickey put me in the cage with a couple of other wannabees -- Tucker Ashford, the #2 overall pick from the '74 draft and some rookie named Mattingly.

Who?

There was also the time when I was in the Yankees locker room after a game when Hall-of-Famer Goose Gossage started yelling at a reporter.

His closing statement was something along the lines of, “and you can take that upstairs to the fat man.”

That fat man would be George.

I mean, Mr. Steinbrenner.

But by far the highlight of my tenure with the Yankees, ummm, my dad’s time with the Yankees, was the 1981 World Series.

With the Yankees spot in the Fall Classic already locked in, we were in New York waiting to see who we would face.

The Los Angeles Dodgers or Montreal Expos.

Those teams were playing in a winner take all game 5 in Canada.

If the Expos won, my mom and I were going to fly commercial back to our home in Southern California.

But if the Dodgers won, my mom and I were going to stay in New York to go to games 1 and 2 of the World Series, then fly on the Yankees charter to the West Coast to go to games 3, 4 and 5 at Dodger Stadium.

Hmmm, let’s see.

You can have a plate of liver and onions OR..

...you can have a five scoop ice cream sundae with hot fudge, whipped cream, a cherry on top AND some of those awesome little toffee chips.

Thankfully, Rick Monday changed his life, and mine, with a ninth-inning home run to boost the Dodgers into the World Series.

As a lifelong Dodgers fan, this created quite a dilemma in my mind.

Root for the team I have loved for 14 years or root for the enemy my father called “our bread and butter.”

I went with my heart.

My father never let me forget it.

The Yankees won the first two games of the series, which made for a fantastic cross-country flight out to LA.

We stayed at the team hotel, adding that to the list of OMG.

Now this was 1981, so there was no TMZ or SI for Kids.  

Hell, there was barely an ESPN.

If the Yankees wanted to walk around the hotel in their underwear, who would know.

(That’s what we in the TV biz call a segue.  You know, I used to work in TV.)

So, I’m walking down the hallway of my hotel floor and all of a sudden a room door pops open and it is Reggie Jackson.

Yes, THE REGGIE JACKSON.

He’s standing there is his tighty whities and nothing else.

He says something along the lines of, “hey kid, do you have a pen?”

Before I could say, “you’re the guy from the candy bar,” I handed him my pen.

A blue one I believe.

He may have said thanks as he grabbed the pen and then...

and then...

and then...

he closed the door.

End of that story.

Not a great ending, I know, but a half-naked Reggie Jackson asked ME for a pen.

And I gave it to him.

Ok, that was a much cooler story as a teenager, but still.

Well the Yankees would go on to lose all three games in LA and the 6th game in New York to lose the series.

Four straight losses to end the year.

Not the finish that George was looking for.

In fact, he was so mad that he wrote a public letter apologizing for his team’s failure.

The person who read that apology to the Yankees fans, was my dad.

RIP Mr. Steinbrenner.

Thanks For The Memory

Bill Buckner played an incredible 22 seasons in the major leagues.

He piled up 2715 hits, with 174 home runs and 1208 runs batted in.

In 1980 he posted a career-high .324 batting average, which led the National League.

In 1982 he hit .306 with 15 homers and 105 RBI.

When he hung up his cleats for the final time, Buckner had played in an amazing two thousand, five hundred and seventeen games.

2517 games, tying him for 47^th all-time in the HISTORY of baseball.

But even with those impressive numbers, William Joseph Buckner is known for just one thing.

Well two things if you count having the best mustache this side of Tom Selleck.

But by far, Billy Buck is known for letting the ball go through his legs in the 10^th inning of Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.

If you don’t believe me, type BILL BUCKNER ERROR into your Google search window.

In .20 seconds you will get “about” 28,200 results.

In case you were hibernating in the fall of 1986, Buckner was playing first base for the Boston Red Sox, a franchise that had not won a World Series since 1918.

And while the error didn’t cost the Red Sox the series or even the game, it is the moment that crushed the legacy of an otherwise stellar career.

Baseball can be a cruel game, but it is no different than real life.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to interview with a former colleague about a possible job opening.

We had a very nice visit.

I told him how much I have enjoyed being at home for the last year (plus).

He nodded.

I also told him how much I would love to get back into the working world.

He nodded again.

Then he asked me about an experience I had on a specific project.

10 years ago!

I knew exactly where he was headed before he finished his sentence.

I have been fortunate to have some incredibly positive moments in my career, but like any one person from the human race, I am not perfect.

About ten years ago, I was involved with a project where I played the role of oil, working with a group of water.

Let’s just say we didn’t mix very well.

When the high-profile project ended, the job was completed and it was quite a success.

But it wasn’t fun.

Much like Larry King’s 7^th divorce, there was no one to blame, it just happened.

I consider myself a people person and I really enjoy connecting with people, but it’s not always as simple as it sounds.

When the subject was brought to my attention yesterday, I knew immediately where the cross-examination was headed.

I answered quickly and honestly, saying that I learned a lot from that experience – which I did.

He nodded.

Again.

Deep down, I truly believe that my experience of the last 25 years will far outweigh any shortcomings from a brief hiccup ten years ago.

And I definitely believe that my track record of the last ten years will erase any bumps in the road that may have taken place before that time.

But the fact that the subject came up was frustrating.

I left the meeting feeling really good about the possibilities, but I also realize that a black cloud by any other name is still a black cloud.

I am hopeful that sunny days lie ahead.

After the meeting, I had dinner with a couple of close friends to talk about the events of the day.

As you might imagine, the featured item on the menu of our discussion was a ten-year-old spoiled egg.

But before I could crack the shell, the wife of one of my friends made a great point.

She said since it was on his mind, it’s a good that he brought it up and gave me a chance to discuss it instead of not bringing it up at all.

I really hadn’t thought of it that way, but she is absolutely right.

The fact that it was on his mind may have been unfortunate on one level and unfair on another, but the fact that we talked about it was definitely a good thing.

We had a chance to discuss any concerns he may have had and I had my chance to clear up those concerns.

I have no doubt that he is a lot more focused on what I have done in the more present tense than what may have happened in the past.

But either way, there are no skeletons.  

And there is no closet.

It’s too bad Bill Buckner never got that chance.