By Edwin Cooney
I know it’s trivial!
Call it silly, meaningless, or whatever adjective you see fit to
apply. Still today, May 12th,
2014 is a pretty special day. It’s the
89th birthday of one of the best-loved living Americans! I don’t believe I know anyone who hasn’t
heard of him. In fact, I hope I never know anyone who doesn’t know his name –
my three-year-old granddaughter excepted, of course!
Before disclosing his name, let me briefly examine what I
mean by this week’s topic, “...best loved.”
Of course, I’m not referring to romantic – or eros -- love
although this gentleman shared deep and abiding love with his sweetheart Carmen
for 65 years from Wednesday, January 26th, 1949 until Friday, March
7th, 2014 when she slipped away.
No doubt he still basks in the lingering glow of her love! Nor, unfortunately am I writing of “philia
love” – the love of friendship – as he and I never met. “Agape love,” which is unconditional love, is
ultimately what this is about. This
gentleman born Lawrence Peter Berra to Pietro and Paolina Berra at home on
Elizabeth Avenue in south St. Louis, Missouri on Tuesday, May 12th,
1925 literally compels our love for him just by being Yogi.
Yogi, who was called Lawdie by his mother and father as a
child, was given his famous nickname by Bobby Hofman, a neighborhood friend
who, along with Yogi and Joe Garagiola, would grow up to play major league
baseball. Hofman insisted that Larry (or
Lawdie) Berra looked like a Hindu Yogi whenever he sat cross-legged and cross-armed
while waiting to bat or while looking sad whenever his team lost a game.
Note that Joe Garagiola, probably Yogi’s best friend from
“the Hill” where they grew up, caught for the St. Louis Cardinals from 1946 to
1951 before finishing his 8 year career with the Cubs, Pirates and New York
Giants. Most of Bobby Hofman’s career
between 1952 and 1958 was spent with the New York Giants. In fact, Joe Garagiola caught in a World
Series before Yogi did. Joe’s World
Series year was 1946 when the Cardinals defeated the Red Sox in seven games
while Yogi’s first of 14 as a New York Yankee came the following season.
Hofman, like Garagiola, played in only one World
Series. Hofman’s World Series year was 1954. That was only the second World Series that Yogi
didn’t play in after 1947 until 1959. In
fact, Garagiola told a mid-1950s banquet crowd that Yogi, for all his success,
had never experienced one of the finer things in life. After all, Yogi, up to that time, had never
had the pleasure of watching a World Series game on television.
Although “Mr. Berra,” as Yankee announcer Red Barber often
used to call him, looked more like a yogi than like an athlete, he was
definitely athletic. Standing only 5
foot 7 inches and playing at a weight of 195 pounds, Berra batted left-handed
but threw right-handed. Quick and light
on his feet, Yogi could pounce on a bunted ball like a cat. His hitting prowess was amazing especially
when the game was on the line. His .285
batting average, his 1,430 RBI’s and 358 home runs were very respectable if not
spectacular. Yogi’s gift to baseball was
his athleticism combined with steady nerves and thorough knowledge of the game. Above all however, there was his personality.
Although “all man” in every sense of the word, Yogi’s manhood
was tinged with the carefree perspective of both a little boy and a sage. Having dropped out of school in the eighth
grade, Yogi’s English could best be characterized as “blue collar.” Therefore, when Yankee owner Dan Topping’s
wife complemented him for looking cool in a seersucker suit after a hot spring
training game in 1957, it was only natural for Yogi to respond by saying,
“Well, you don’t look so hot yourself, Mrs. Topping!” (Note: Dan Topping’s six
wives were all beautiful actresses and models.
Few words could have described their looks better than the word “hot.”)
Of course, many of Yogi’s observations are legendary. Of the shadows that used to plague both Yankee
and opposing outfielders on October afternoons at Yankees Stadium, Yogi once observed:
“It gets late out there early.” While
going through a batting slump early in his career, Yogi was instructed to think
while he was at the plate. The very next
at bat Yogi proceeded to take three called strikes. As he walked back to the dugout he was heard
muttering: “how the hell is anyone supposed to hit and think at the same time?”
I guess we all love Yogi because he entertains us and asks for
nothing in return. As a beloved baseball
player he probably is still second to Babe Ruth, but as a model for living he
vastly outranks “the Babe.” As an
American icon he certainly rates among the near greats if not the truly great
Americans of the twentieth century!
His 1973 observation about the National League pennant race (“It
ain’t over till it’s over”) is a combination of optimistic wisdom and patience
that Americans have come to apply to countless circumstances in their own
lives.
Mr. Berra’s success in baseball is probably still what
matters the most to him outside of his love for his late wife Carmen, and his sons
Larry, Tim and Dale. (Note: I’m told
that he wanted to name his first born Yogi Jr., but that Carmen wouldn’t hear
of it!)
As Yogi approaches that inevitability which we all face, his
legacy includes the Yogi Berra Learning Center established on the campus of
Montclair State University in northern New Jersey. This combination baseball museum, baseball
park and community center will pass on the essence of what Yogi is all about.
It’s a matter of fact and, even more, of profound pride that
the little man with the first name of a Hindu Yogi is as American as…
a high fast ball, the crack of bat on cowhide, the cheer of
a Sunday afternoon crowd and the home run just tagged by number eight!
No wonder we love him and that today is indeed so very, very
special!
RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY
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