by Jane Heller
Michael lifts my arm by the elbow. “Let’s go. It’s time.”
“Not yet!” Poor Michael. He should get combat pay for having to put up with me. “I have to feel this, to watch this.”
I watch Paul O’Neill and Michael Kay doing their final stand-up in front of the YES camera; John Sterling and Suzyn Waldman wrapping up their last WCBS broadcast; the groundskeepers laying a cover over the pitcher’s mound.
I bury my head in my hands and sob and sob and sob. I am a mess.
“Are you okay?” asks a woman my age in a Yankees visor.
“This is so embarrassing.”I wave her away. My eyes are swollen into little slits, and I can hardly see out of them.
“I know, I know,” she says, touching my knee with great tenderness.
I gaze at her, study her. She is not an angel. Just another She-Fan.
“There is nothing worse than baseball gone bad,” she murmurs. “Nothing.”
I nod.
She goes off into the night.
Michael cradles me in his arms. “Ready now?”
“Ready.”
What was so gut-wrenching is that we felt like if we got to the play-offs, we would win the whole thing. There wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind. We were such a prepared group. Was Wanger a good matchup for that team? No. But you go with your best, and he was our best. There’s nothing I would change. Sometimes you just have to tip your cap.
“Hello?” I say to the kitchenon Tuesday night. It is as if I am invading the space of a perfect stranger. Do I really live here? It is so quiet in this house.
“It’s 1 o’clock in the morning,” says Michael, as he wheels in the last of our suitcases. “Let’s just go to bed.”
“I need to unpack first.” We have been on the go since early this morning. I am beyond exhausted, and my face is puffy from all the crying. Mo told the media after last night’s game that we have to accept loss, just like he told Jen Royle she had to accept it, but I am still grieving.
“You can unpack tomorrow,” Michael urges.
I shake my head. “You go on to bed.”
Maybe when the clothes are in the hamper and the bags are put away, I will be able to let go. Or at least start to.
I’m sick to my stomach that we’re done. That’s the hard part of baseball in general, whether you win the World Series or you don’t make it to the play-offs. You’re with each other for 250 straight days, and then all of a sudden it’s good-bye.
I wake up on Wednesday thinking I am at the Marmara and crash into a wall on my way to the bathroom. I am suffering from Hotel Disorientation Syndrome again, only in my own house.
Out of habit, I rush to the computer to read recaps of last night’s game. There is no last night’s game.
Still, there is plenty of activity in Yankeeville. The beat writers are speculating about Joe’s future. Will he sign a new contract? Or will he be replaced by Mattingly? Girardi? Tony La Russa? Bobby Valentine? Rumors are also rampant about A-Rod. Will he stay in New York or opt out? And if he opts out, will he sign with the Angels?Cubs? Dodgers?I don’t want anybody going anywhere.
I start crying again after I check e-mail. There is one from a person called Tribe Fan who says, “Ha ha. You obnoxious Yankee fans got what you deserved.”
Most of the day is about reentry. I do laundry and grocery shopping. I relearn the TV channel lineup. I call friends and make dates for dinner. I would rather talk about the Yankees than about which local restaurant changed chefs while I was away,but I am making the effort. It is not as if I have been sent back to some hellhole, after all. I live in paradise. I need to remind myself of that.
There were some years when I couldn’t wait to go home after the season, because I played like shit. But I never thought about home this year. I just wanted to be with my guys.
There is some news regarding the Torre Watch on Thursday. The Yankees “brain trust” will meet in Tampa next week to discuss whether to keep him or dump him. The Boss’s sons, Hank and Hal, appear to be running the show, but it is hard to tell. Some of the writers are reporting that Joe may be invited to the Tampa meetings. Others say Mattingly is the front-runner to replace Joe. I hardly notice that the Rockies beat the Diamondbacks in game one of their series.
I go on Amazon and order the DVD collection of Sex and the City: Season Two so I can seethe episode where Carrie datesa Yankee after moping around wishing she could get over Mr. Big.
I am moping around wishing I could get over baseball. I will tell you how much I miss it. When I sit down tonight to watch Grey’s Anatomy, I cheer,“Let’s go, Yankees!”
Joe grabbed me and hugged me and said something I’ll never forget: “You’re a true professional. You forced yourself into the lineup, and you kept yourself in it. You handled the situation with class, and I’m very proud of you.” To hear that from a guy who was one hell of a player and an even better manager meant the world to me.
My goal on Friday is to perk up. I go to the Bellezza Vita salon in Summerland to see Bruce, who does my color. After I sit down in his chair and he drapes a smock over me, he says, “Are you sick of baseball after going to all those games?”
I explain that I could never be sick of going to games any more than a lover of music could be sick of going to concerts.
“What about divorcing the Yankees?” he asks. “Is that still on?”
“I’m thinking of moving back to New York so I can be closer to them.”
He laughs. I am just another eccentric client.
At home I turn on the TV. The Rockies have beaten the Diamondbacks again, and the Red Sox have destroyed Sabathia and the Indians in game one of their series. I feel a pang of regret, but it is only a pang.
To me, Joe Torre should be Manager of the Year. I know where we were mentally and physically in the first half. We weren’t feeling very good about ourselves. Joe righted the ship. The guy exudes confidence and calm.
In Saturday’s papers, Joe is getting an outpouring of support—players, other managers, fans, celebrities. But it is looking like the Steinbrenner boys are ready for a change. Otherwise, why not just offer him a new contract already?
Tonight Michael and I watch game two of Red Sox–Indians. It is mildly diverting. I am not invested in either team’s success; I hate them both equally.
The score is 6–6 when we switch over to the movie we rented. When it is over, we switch back. Boston loses in the 11 th inning after Gagne gives up an RBI single to Trot Nixon. I hate the Red Sox more.
Do I think the Red Sox are the new Yankees? No. They won one championship in 89 years. How do you compare that to 26?
I think I am getting on with my life, but I wake up crying on Sunday. I dreamed I was trying to swipe my MetroCard into the little slot at the 86th Street subway station and the turnstile wouldn’t budge. I was being kept out, just like the Yankees were keeping me out during the trip. I actually hear myself saying, “Please let me in!”
“Let you in where?” Michael asks as he nudges me awake.
I explain about the dream. He shakes his head and goes to eat Rice Krispies.
This afternoon I grab my iPod and take a 5-mile walk along the beach, hoping the salt air will snap me out of my funk. I gaze at the ocean to my left and at the mountains to my right. I am lucky to be living in one of the most magnificent spots in the country. I am lucky to be supporting myself as a writer. I am lucky to be sharing this journey with a husband who loves me. It really is time to cut the crap and get on with things.
Week 29 October 15, 2007
We beat the Red Sox so many times this year. And when we didn’t, early in the season, it was only because we had kids from Double A ball pitching for us.
On Monday I drive to Los Angeles for a meeting about a movie project. project. During the ride back, I listen to game three of Red Sox–Indians on the radio. The Indians win 4–2.
Colorado clinches the NL pennant by sweeping the Diamondbacks. Are the Rockies really that good, or is the National Le
ague just incredibly lame?
Technically, I’m a Yankee until the end of the World Series. But who knows if I’ll be coming back? I hope I do. I just want a chance to earn my job. That’s all a player can ask for.
On Tuesday I print out all my notes from the trip and start to figure out what structure and shape the book will take. I am having a productive work session when my cell phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Is this Jane?” asks a male voice.
“Yes.”
“Doug Mientkiewicz.”
I do not scream into the phone like those people who win the grand prize from Publishers Clearing House. I do not even utter a tiny gasp. I just smile. God—and Gene Orza—came through after all.
“Do you remember the magic beer at the Ritz in Boston?” I ask Doug. “You started playing regularly after that night.”
He laughs. “I was thinking I should get you tickets for every game because you were my lucky charm.”
Tickets for every game. Timing is everything in life.
“Would you be willing to give me some time for my book?”
“I’m pretty open, sure. I’m just home trying to recover from the season.”
“Me, too.”
He gives me his phone number,and we make a plan for me to call him tomorrow morning at 8:00.
I go running into Michael’s office.
“My prayer was answered!”
“Which prayer are we talking about?” His head is buried in a box full of photographs.
“Doug Mientkiewicz just called!”
He looks up. “Really?”
“We’re doing the interview tomorrow!”
He gets up and gives me a hug. “You got your Yankee.”
Later, we watch the Indians beat the Red Sox 7–3 to go up three games to one. We wave white paper towels and yell, “It’s Tribe Time now!”
I was very nostalgic with myself all year. I’d be driving to the park every day and look up and see Yankee Stadium and think: It doesn’t get any better than this.
I call Mientkiewicz at 8:00 on Wednesday morning and get his voice mail. Did he forget me? I leave a message reminding him about our interview and give him my phone number.
I eat breakfast and read the newspapers. There is a rumor that Joe will be given a 1-year deal so he canpass the torch to Mattingly when the new stadium opens in 2009. There is another rumor that he will be asked to take a pay cut. There is a third that he will be kicked upstairs and offered a position in the front office. I am contemplating all this when the phone rings.
I leap off the kitchen stool and race into my office.
“Hello?”
It is not my Yankee. It is my plumber. He says he has the part for the bathroom faucet.
On my way back into the kitchen the phone rings again. This time it is Doug.
We end up talking for hours and on more than one occasion about everything from the values instilled in him by his father and his friendship with A-Rod to his years with the Twins, Red Sox, Mets, and Royals before joining the Yankees. John Sterling was right about him: He is smart and charming. He is also honest and straightforward and passionate. A-Rod may be the fantasy league Yankee, but his high school buddy is the real deal. I had promised my publisher I could reel in a big league ballplayer, and that is exactly what Doug Mientkiewicz is.
You’re telling Joe that because you put a dollar value on the World Series he’s gonna manage the games that much better? He knows the expectations. He knows what it means to put the jersey on. He gets it that if you don’t win the last game you play in October, it’s a failure.
—DOUG MIENTKIEWICZ
On Thursday there is breaking news out of Tampa. The Yankees offered Joe a 1-year contract for $5 million, with million-dollar incentives if the team makes the ALDS, the ALCS, and the World Series. Joe flew down to Florida with Cashman this morning to discuss the offer with the brain trust—and turned it down. He is out. After 12 postseasons in 12 years, he is no longer the Yankees manager. I am freaking, even though I knew this day would come, even though I have been a naysayer now and then, even though I have allowed the words “Maybe it’s time for a change” to pass my lips. Joe has been a rock, a father figure, a winner. Who will replace him? And how will his departure affect the signings of Mo, Jorge, A-Rod, and Pettitte?
Jason Zillo organizes a conference call so that the Yankees can explain the situation to the beat writers. Peter Abraham posts the audio on his blog, and I am glued. Randy Levine does most of the talking, going through the details of the offer Joe left on the table. And then he, Cashman, and the Steinbrenner boys answer questions from Peter, Mark, Tyler, Sweeny, George, Kat, and the rest of the traveling carnival.
There is an e-mail from Tom Jolly at the Times. Apparently, the sports section has been inundated with reactions to Joe leaving. They are planning to run a full page of reflections about him, and Tom asks if I would like to contribute. I write a short piece about how bad I am at good-byes and how much I will miss Torre.
Michael and I watch Red Sox–Indians. Beckett pitches a gem, damn him, and the Sox win decisively.
“All I can think about is the Yankees,” I tell Michael after the game. “I was coming out of it, but now there’s so much uncertainty.”
I watched Joe’s press conference. I know he said he regretted not pulling us off the field in game two because of the bugs, but you can second-guess every person who ever managed a postseason game. Who’s to say they would have allowed him to pull us off the field? It was just one of those unfortunate things that happen.
—DM
On Friday Joe holds a press conference at the Hilton Rye Town in Westchester, and Tom Goodman, my new friend from Spuntini in Toronto and George Brett’s in Kansas City, handles the PR for the event.
I watch live coverage on ESPN. I choke up as I remember Joe’s stoic look in the dugout throughout the years, all those walks to the mound, all his postgame musings. He has been the face of the Yankees—a classy face.
He says he found the 1-year aspect of the deal insulting. He was not too crazy about the incentives part, either. He answers question after question. I know how much the beat writers appreciated his accessibility. This is a sad day for them, too.
Later, Cashman reveals that the brain trust has already reached out to three candidates for the managerial job: Mattingly, Girardi, and Tony Pena. All three will fly to Tampa next week for their interviews.
Joe’s body is not even cold and they are picking out his successor. On the other hand, the clock is ticking on A-Rod. Cashman repeated that the Yankees will not negotiate with him if he decides to opt out of his contract, and the opt-out date is approaching. Will hiring Mattingly increase the likelihood that A-Rod will stay in New York? What about Girardi and Pena? Or does Scott Boras simply want to sell his client to the highest bidder?
Look, no matter who the manager is, there’s still gonna be 55,000 people ready to scream their brains out next year because they’re Yankee fans.
—DM
On Saturday Scott Boras tells SI.com that A-Rod is not likely to sign with the Yankees by the deadline if the organization is in disarray. He says Alex can’t possibly make a long-term commitment before knowing who the manager is going to be, not to mention whether Mo, Posada, Pettitte, and Abreu are coming back.
Michael and I turn on the TV to watch Red Sox–Indians. J. D. Drew hits a grand slam in the first inning. We turn off the TV.
Joe will be a tough act to follow, no doubt about it. But this is the Yankees, not Joe Blow’s Trucking and Bowling Team, and Yankee fans are the most loyal fans on this earth. It takes them time to fall in love with the new guys. But when the new guys do the job, the fans love them, too.
—DM
On Sunday my “reflection” about Joe runs in the Times. Several of the other fans who contributed to the page say they are ashamed to be Yankee fans after the way the organization handled his dismissal.
The Post has an exclusive interview with
Hank Steinbrenner, who calls Joe an ingrate for terming the contract offer an insult.
The Daily News takes a shot at Randy Levine for being the architect of Joe’s departure.
It is getting ugly in Yankeeville.
Michael and I watch Red Sox–Indians. Boston wins 11–2.
Week 30 October 22, 2007
Girardi did a hell of a job when he played here, and he’d make a great manager. But you can’t compare the Marlins and Yankees because they’re totally different animals. With the Marlins he had 25 guys who’d never been in the big leagues before. With the Yankees you’re talking about 25 guys who are weathered and battle tested.
—DM
On Monday, Joe Girardi is the first managerial candidate to be interviewed in Tampa. Mattingly will go tomorrow and Pena on Wednesday.
Peter Abraham’s blog has the audio of Girardi’s conference call with the beat writers. Joe talks about how much he learned from managing the Marlins and how much he wants the Yankees to win another championship. He sounds very professional and polished, but I am unmoved.