The Wit and Wisdom of Yogi Berra by Pepe Phil

Author:Pepe, Phil [Pepe, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SPORTS & RECREATION/Baseball/Essays & Writings
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2012-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

“If You Can’t Imitate Him, Don’t Copy Him”

Old and obsolete Crosley Field in Cincinnati was not long for this world. Already, plans were in the works to get the Reds a new, modem ball park, and progress was interfering with the grand old game. A new freeway, Interstate 75, had been built behind the left field fence in Crosley, causing havoc to hitters. The lights from the passing cars and the overhead lights illuminating the freeway shone in the eyes of hitters, practically blinding them and putting them in danger of being hit with a 9o-mile-per-hour fastball.

To remedy the situation, the Cincinnati management had a wooden barricade erected atop the left field wall. Its purpose was to block the light, but it also created a small problem. It meant a ball that hit the wooden barricade was a home run. But one that hit the concrete was in play.

One night Ron Swoboda came to bat for the Mets with the bases loaded and hit a tremendous smash to left. It hit either the wooden barricade or the concrete wall and bounced back onto the field. Certain the ball hit the barricade for a home run, Swoboda broke into his home run trot. But the umpire ruled the ball hit the concrete wall and was in play.

The Mets were livid with rage, and the most outraged of all was first base coach Yogi Berra. He argued so long and so loud he was eventually ejected from the game.

Later, talking with reporters, Berra swore he was right and the umpire was wrong, that the ball had hit the wood barricade, not the concrete.

His argument was as basic as his logic: “Anybody who can’t tell the difference between the sound of a ball hitting wood and a ball hitting concrete must be blind.”

The houselights were dim and the crowd of 1,500 had its attention turned to the stage where a spotlight caught a lone shadow. From somewhere offstage came a voice: “Here comes Yogi, now.”

The solitary figure walked across the stage pushing a wheel-barrow and stopped in the center of the stage, in front of a microphone, and the spotlight stopped with him. He wore a clown’s uniform, and there were dollar bills—stage money—spilling out of every pocket of his jaunty costume.

The date was Sunday, January 31, 1965, and this was the New York Baseball Writers’ dinner and show, an annual ration of corn and ham placed on a harpoon by a group of frustrated actor-singers.

The music started and the clown on stage, played by Leonard Koppett of The New York Times, began to mouth words that were coming from an offstage microphone, sung in the operatic tenor voice of Arthur Rubin, an island of professionalism in a sea of amateurs.

The tune was familiar. It was “Vesti la Giubbe” from Leoncavallo’s I Pagliacci.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.