by Marty Appel
The 2008 Yankees did not go to the postseason, despite a 20–9 year from Mike Mussina in his final year before retiring. (He was the first pitcher since Sandy Koufax in 1966 to win 20 and then quit.) Instead, even with a $209 million payroll, they never managed to emerge from third place after mid-June. It was the first time they missed the postseason since 1993, save for the ’94 strike year.
The failure to make the postseason actually presented a good situation. The final game at Yankee Stadium would be the last home game of the regular season. Had they gone into the postseason, there would have been no way of predicting when that last game would be, and it would have been impossible to schedule lavish ceremonies around it.
The Yankees paid the city $11.5 million to be able to sell off memorabilia from the stadium—the seats, the signage, and more. Collectors were salivating over the treasures that would come from vintage Yankee Stadium. A pair of seats was available for $1,500 through Steiner Sports, which had a collectibles partnership with the team. Season-ticket holders could own their own seats for an extra $500. Brian Cashman’s desk chair cost $5,000. Sections of the outfield frieze were offered at $50,000. A twenty-by-twenty-foot chunk of outfield sod? $10,000. A display case with dirt? $50. Jeter got the sign in the tunnel to the Yankee dugout that quoted DiMaggio’s “I want to thank the Good Lord for making me a Yankee,” a sign he always touched as he headed for the field. The flagpole was retained by the Yankees and rests quietly under the new bleachers. Rivera wanted the bullpen bench. The foul poles were cut into two-inch sections and sold for $80 per section. Home plate was carried to the new ballpark. Thurman Munson’s locker was moved to the new Yankees Museum. A group campaigned to save the massive concrete gate 6 as a landmark, but was unsuccessful.
And so the last game would be on a warm Sunday night, September 21, televised nationally by ESPN. Andy Pettitte got the honor of pitching against the Orioles, and got his 2,000th strikeout in the first inning. Bob Sheppard read the starting lineups, having recorded them earlier in the day at his home. The 1922 American League pennant, which was hung on opening day of 1923, was spread out in the unoccupied area of the bleachers.
I had lunch at Mickey Mantle’s Restaurant in Manhattan with Julia Ruth Stevens and her family—she was to throw out the ceremonial first pitch a few hours later. The Babe’s daughter was ninety-two, but sprightly and excited for her honor. My own father had died eight weeks earlier at ninety-two, and Bobby Murcer had lost his battle with cancer on July 12, failing to achieve his goal of seeing the new stadium open. So Julia’s bright spirits on such a sentimental day certainly were appreciated. She would deliver her big pitch to Posada in about four hours.
I met up with my son, Brian, who came in from Boston, and we took our seats in the mezzanine over right field, section 33, to share the finale together. (I wished my daughter Deb was with us, but she was living in San Diego.) Bunting hung from the mezzanine and upper deck as though it was the World Series. Bobby Abreu was the Yankees’ right fielder, and I pointed out to Brian that at my very first game, in 1956, I sat in right field with my father, and Hank Bauer was playing right.
“And if you scramble the letters in Abreu,” I noted, “you get Bauer.” “It’s the Yankees,” I explained. “Everything connects.”
I also pointed out that this would be the last chance for someone to hit a fair ball out of Yankee Stadium.
The crowd that day put attendance for the season at 4,298,543, an all-time team record and the eighth straight year of growth. The gates opened seven hours early and the Yankees let the fans walk on the field and take photos. It was one of the highest-priced tickets ever offered by the reseller StubHub.
The pregame ceremonies began with a parade of Yankee employees in vintage flannel uniforms, representing the first 1923 lineup and popular Yankees of the past. Tony Morante, the team’s historian and tour guide, got to wear 22 for his favorite, Allie Reynolds.
Former Yanks—real ones—were introduced by John Sterling and Michael Kay, and they ran to their respective positions to great cheers, especially Bernie Williams, back for the first time since his 2006 departure.
Winfield and Roy White were introduced and ran to left. Nettles, Boggs, and Brosius took third. To cheers of “REG-GIE, REG-GIE, REG-GIE,” Jackson went to right with O’Neill, and “PAUL O-NEILL!” was chanted. They were joined by Roger Maris’s son Randy. Skowron (“Moose!”), Chambliss, and Martinez took first.
Joining Gene Michael at shortstop was eighty-eight-year-old Cora Rizzuto, Phil’s widow, who stood through the whole ceremony. She was escorted by Mariano Rivera. Great cheers rang out for Yogi at catcher, who was joined by Girardi; Cheryl Howard, Elston’s daughter; and by Michael Munson, Thurman’s son.
On the mound were Ford, Larsen, Guidry, Wells, Cone, Gossage, and Catfish Hunter’s widow, Helen. Ford and Larsen scooped up dirt. Billy Martin Jr. joined Randolph and Richardson at second. Randolph, recently discharged as the Mets’ manager, slid into second base. All the widows and children wore properly numbered jerseys.
Center field, that most hallowed ground, was the most emotional spot to fill. Besides the appearance of Williams, David Mantle, looking so much like his dad and running with his elbows high as Mickey did, went out, as did Kay Murcer, wearing a number-1 jersey, with her two children, Todd and Tori. It was their first time back and they shared emotional hugs with Bernie and Danny as the fans cheered and dabbed at their eyes.
The DiamondVision screen showed fast photos of some seven hundred Yankees by position, whether they were present or not. Omitted was Roger Clemens, who had recently suffered a huge fall from grace over allegations of steroid use.
Everything was the “last time in the old park.” The last starting lineup was Damon, CF; Jeter, SS; Abreu, RF; Rodriguez, 3B; Giambi, 1B; Xavier Nady, LF; Cano, 2B; Matsui, DH; and Jose Molina, C. As the innings passed, the flashes from digital and cell-phone cameras constantly illuminated the old park.
Molina, who had been the team’s regular catcher for most of the year with Posada hurt, hit the last home run in the fourth to put the Yankees ahead 5–3. It would be 7–3 by the ninth when the Yanks took the field for the last time. Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” played as Mariano Rivera came in to finish the game. Everyone stood for the full inning.
The fans loved this perfect finish. To see the great Rivera in his familiar routine, staring at the baseball, readying himself, his concentration on his craft never broken, was one of the joys of being a Yankee fan in this era. His body facing north, knees bent, pulling the ball into his waist before the delivery: It was an image fans wanted to preserve forever. It couldn’t go on forever, of course, and fans were now savoring each appearance, knowing one day this would end.
On the field in the ninth were Melky Cabrera in left, Brett Gardner in center, and Abreu in right. Cody Ransom had gone to first to replace Giambi, who had delivered the last hit in Yankee Stadium, which would in turn be the last hit of his Yankee career. His contract up, he would depart as a free agent and sign with Colorado.
Jay Payton grounded out weakly to short for the first out on a 1-and-2 pitch. Luke Scott grounded out to second on an 0-and-2 pitch. Two down. Everyone readied their cameras.
At this point Girardi took out Jeter, a dramatic flourish used on rare occasions when the manager clearly acknowledges the moment. He was allowing the captain to hear “DE-REK JE-TER” one more time as he jogged to the dugout. He emerged briefly for one more curtain call. Wilson Betemit went out to play short.
With flashbulbs popping, Rivera went 2-and-1 on Brian Roberts, and then delivered the final pitch in the history of old Yankee Stadium. It was 11:41 P.M. Roberts grounded to Ransom at first for an unassisted putout. The Yanks won 7–3, the victory going to Pettitte. And that was it.
But not quite. Few fans left. The Yankee players emerged onto the field and a microphone appeared. Jeter, honored before the game for breaking Lou Gehrig’s record for hits in Yankee Stadium, addressed the crowd without notes.
/> For all of us out here, it’s a huge honor to put this uniform on and come out every day to play. And every member of this organization, past and present, has been calling this place home for eighty-five years. It’s a lot of tradition, a lot of history, and a lot of memories. Now the great thing about memories is you’re able to pass it along from generation to generation. And although things are gonna change next year, we’re gonna move across the street, there are a few things with the New York Yankees that never change. That’s pride, tradition, and most of all, we have the greatest fans in the world. And we’re relying on you to take the memories from this stadium, add them to the new memories to come at the new Yankee Stadium, and continue to pass them on from generation to generation. So on behalf of the entire organization, we just want to take this moment to salute you, the greatest fans in the world.
He doffed his cap to salute the fans and his teammates followed.
Jeter always seemed to get it right. The familiar sight of his postgame interviews, the little cough into his fist, the squeezing of the nose, the small smile, had become so familiar over the years. But it had taken his parents to tell him to enjoy it all a little more. “Make sure you enjoy this,” they told him. “You don’t want to look back and wish you’d done something different.”
With that, led by Jeter, the team took a lap around the field, waving their caps, sharing the emotion. Security was tight, including police officers on horseback. Joba Chamberlain went back to the mound to slap the pitching rubber and wave to his dad. All the while, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” played over and over until the last fans had filed out, well past midnight.
The final message on DiamondVision: TO BE CONTINUED.
Chapter Forty-Six
SELENA ROBERTS OF SPORTS ILLUSTRATED arrived at the University of Miami weight room on February 5, 2009, to seek out Alex Rodriguez.
A-Rod was working out in the final weeks before spring training.
Roberts confronted him. She had learned he tested positive for steroids in 2003.
He directed her to the Players Association and chose not to speak about it any further.
Two days later, SI.com posted her story. A-Rod had not been named on any previous lists, and baseball was poised to promote him heavily as the ultimate successor to Barry Bonds for the lifetime home run record. This was a blow not only to A-Rod but to the Yankees and MLB.
Moving quickly to control the damage, A-Rod did an interview with Peter Gammons on ESPN on February 9. He said, “When I arrived in Texas in 2001, I felt an enormous amount of pressure. I felt like I had all the weight of the world on top of me, and I needed to perform, and perform at a high level every day. Back then, it was a different culture. It was very loose. I was young. I was stupid. I was naïve. I wanted to prove to everyone that, you know, I was worth being one of the greatest players of all time. And I did take a banned substance. You know, for that I’m very sorry and deeply regretful.”
He reported to Tampa on February 17, and the Yankees set up a press conference in the tent outside the third-base side of Steinbrenner Field. Cashman, Girardi, and his teammates attended.
He didn’t change his story about using the steroids only with Texas, leaving some wondering why he didn’t feel the same pressure coming to New York. He mentioned a cousin who had administered the substance. “It was pretty evident we didn’t know what we were doing,” he said, but to another question he replied, “I knew we weren’t taking Tic Tacs.”
Cashman sighed. “We’ve got nine years of Alex remaining … And because of that, this is an asset that is going through a crisis. So we’ll do everything we can to protect that asset and support that asset and try to salvage that asset.
“This story is going to be with Alex for a long time. It’s going to be with him forever.”
As it happened, it had its time on the nation’s front pages and faded. Baseball’s fan base was pretty much exhausted with steroid revelations at this point, although Hall of Fame voters will ultimately have the last word. As long as he produced on the field, the hometown fans cheered him. A-Rod, the Yankees, and MLB would have to move on. There was not much of an alternative.
IN PREPARATION FOR the new stadium, and after missing the playoffs, the Yankees made four key additions to the 2009 team.
Two were pitchers who went by their initials: CC Sabathia and A.J. Burnett. They were introduced at a joint press conference on December 19, the last one in the old stadium. During this month, the offices were being moved, and the media showed employees carrying trophies across the street. These would be two more, and they crossed 161st Street for photos in the new park.
Sabathia, twenty-eight, was a bear of a man, over three hundred pounds on a six-foot-seven frame, and he liked to wear his uniform baggy. He was the heaviest Yankee since 295-pound Walter “Jumbo” Brown in 1936, although David Wells may have weighed in on that debate. In eight seasons with Cleveland and half a year with Milwaukee, he had won a Cy Young Award and established a reputation for being able to pitch deep into games. (When he pitched a complete game in May 2011, it was the first for the Yankees in two years, a record streak of 341 CG-less games.) He signed a seven-year, $161 million contract with the choice to opt out after 2011.
Burnett, thirty-two, a beneficiary of Tommy John surgery, had been in the majors since 1999 with only one season better than three games over .500. He’d gone 18–10 with Toronto in 2008—his option year. He signed for five years and $82.5 million.
Next came Mark Teixeira, signing for eight years and $180 million. His press conference, with the now traditional donning of a pinstripe jersey, came on January 6. It was the first event in the new stadium. “Tex” proved to be a brilliant defensive first baseman with a great Yankee Stadium swing. He met the challenge in his first year with a .292/39/122 season, leading the league in RBI and total bases, tying in homers, and finishing second in MVP voting. It didn’t take fans long to embrace the Georgia Tech product, who had broken in with Texas in 2003 and continued to improve as his career matured.
The fourth acquisition was outfielder Nick Swisher. His signing wasn’t the big news the others had been; no press conference followed. He was coming off a .219 season with the White Sox and was thought to be a fourth outfielder. Only when Xaxier Nady had a season-ending injury did he find himself a starter.
The gregarious Swisher was the son of a major leaguer: His father, Steve, was a catcher for nine seasons starting in ’74. So Nick grew up around the game, and then became a star at Ohio State. Michael Lewis’s bestselling book Moneyball, which looked into how Billy Beane went about building the Oakland A’s on a small budget, paid special attention to Swisher. Lewis related how much Beane coveted Swisher, how much he hoped he would last in the 2002 draft until Oakland could pick him. “Swisher has an attitude,” said Beane. “Swisher is fearless. Swisher isn’t going to let anything get between him and the big leagues. Swisher has presence.” He wound up getting his man in the first round, the sixteenth pick, as compensation for the loss of Johnny Damon to the Red Sox.
Over his time with Oakland, Swish did not become the big star that Beane had hoped, but a good player who reached highs of 35 homers and 95 RBI in 2006. When he tailed off in ’07, he was traded to Chicago. And there, Swisher slumped and became available again.
“We saw the .219, but we were able to tell that he was better than that,” said Cashman. “Our stat-analysis department was a manifestation of how we were now going about doing our business. We realized that there was a lot more going on in this game than met the eye.
“The difference in Swisher’s .219 in 2008 compared to his years in Oakland was largely bad luck. He had the third-lowest batting average in the majors on balls put in play, a statistic that varies greatly with luck. He had many fewer hits than he should have had. He still had great patience at the plate—4.5 pitches per at-bat. There was no decline in home runs, despite hitting only four in his first 185 at bats. Nineteen of his 24 homers came in home run friendly pa
rks, as Yankee Stadium figured to be. I thought he was a great low-buy opportunity and a huge bounce-back candidate.”
Cashman’s homework paid off. He got him in a trade for Wilson Betemit and two minor league pitchers. All he believed proved correct, as Swisher found a new life in the Yankee outfield and turned into a clutch performer. He hit 29 home runs in each of his first two Yankee seasons, got his average up to .288, and restored his OPS—on-base plus slugging—from .743 in Chicago to .870 in New York. By his second year with the Yankees, he was on his first All-Star team, and although the switch-hitter’s strikeouts were high, he would use up a lot of pitches getting them, helping to wear out pitchers.
OLD YANKEE STADIUM could fit into new Yankee Stadium. The difference wasn’t in the seating capacity, which was actually smaller, but in the footprint of the park, which allowed for wider pedestrian paths and for a magnificent Great Hall—thirty-one thousand square feet along the first-base side, in which long banners hung honoring past Yankee greats.
The concourses behind the seating were festive, with a wide variety of concession booths and a clear view of the field. In the old park, the bleacher fans were cut off from the rest of the stadium; here they could walk the full 360. Weather-resistant cushioned box seats were a new amenity.
The outfield fences—318 to left, 408 to center, 314 to right, with the power alleys at 399 and 385—replicated the 1976–2008 stadium, although the fifty-two feet from the catcher to the backstop was a reduction from the original eighty-four.
Construction proceeded right up to the last minute. One unplanned interruption was the revelation that a worker—a Red Sox fan!—had buried a David Ortiz jersey in the concrete to cast bad luck on the team. The section was drilled apart and the jersey removed. No chances were taken.