by Derek Jeter
The Dive
It really wasn’t difficult to catch the ball. The landing was another story. In in our old stadium there was a photographers’ pit on the other side of the wall—I’d gotten well acquainted with it a couple of years before this during the playoffs. It was the game after the “flip play,” actually. We were playing Oakland, and I caught a pop-up and fell over the wall directly into the photographers’ pit, which is nothing but a cement-lined open space. Not a very nice place to land.
So when I found myself in the same situation, I had the bright idea to jump the pit this time around. I was running full speed and knew I couldn’t stop in time, because there wasn’t a lot of room in foul territory in the old stadium. In my mind, my best bet was hopping over the pit and running into somebody in the crowd. The only problem with my plan was that I ran right into an empty chair. I missed the cement, but I hit a chair face-first instead. Neither one is a great option, but given the chance again, I’d probably choose the cement. I actually own that chair now—Steiner Sports gave it to me when the old stadium was torn down.
The Jump Throw
People always talk about my jump throw and ask me how I developed it. It was a move I did in the minors, but just in practice, just messing around. I kept working on it and having fun with it until it got to a point where I realized I could pull it off. I didn’t try it in a game for quite a while. It’s not something you just go out there and do—particularly in a game, because a lot can go wrong with it.
It’s like anything else: I got there through repetition and focus. You continue to work on your skills and improve and refine your game, and some things that really work for you come out of it. If you continue to work on your defense and offense, honing your abilities in every aspect of your game, good things will happen. I like to think that I was an okay athlete growing up, and I think playing other sports helped me to learn different moves, to be able to integrate jumping in my defense maybe more than other guys would.
The Swing Doctor
I don’t want to keep repeating myself, but the truth is baseball is about practice, discipline, and repetition. I’m habitual in what I do. I had a coach by the name of Gary Denbo, who was my first manager in the minor leagues. I was with him throughout the minors and when he was a hitting coach in New York in 2001. He is based in Tampa, and I have worked with him in the off-season ever since. In fact, Gary is responsible for helping me perfect my inside-out swing; some of it is just how I hit, but over the years my swing has improved tremendously, thanks to all of my work with Gary.
It’s Not Just a Numbers Game
In terms of the mechanics of defense, one of the hardest things to learn, or teach, is acquiring a feel for the game. Nowadays there’s too much emphasis placed on the computer science of baseball. Computers say that 72.3 percent of hit balls go to a certain place, so players are taught to stand in those places—and that can limit their thinking. Too scientific of an approach to the game takes the fun out of it, because if you approach all of the action on the field in that way, it’s not a game anymore. I think the best way to learn how to play baseball well is to get a feel for the game before you even try to play it. Anticipation and preparation in particular are the keys to being a good fielder.
Defense Wins Championships
I take a lot of pride in my defensive game, so winning the Rawlings Gold Glove for the first time in 2004 meant a lot to me, and it has every time since then, too. The Gold Gloves are voted on by a committee of peers, as opposed to by sportswriters, so winning it comes with a huge degree of respect, because the coaches and managers of the teams you’re doing your best to beat all season are the ones who vote for you.
Down But Not Out
I felt it pop. And I knew it was broken. The next thought I had was that I had to get off the field. I did not want to be lying there helpless. Before we even entered the tunnel to the locker room, my initial instinct was: How long until I can play again?
That’s where my mind was. I was more focused on that than the pain. Up until that point I had missed a total of about eighty games due to injury in my entire career. My foot would hit the bag wrong in Tampa or in Boston, and I’d end up with a bone bruise. But with just a month left in the season, we were in a neck-and-neck, back-and-forth battle with Baltimore.
So I kept playing. Eventually that bone bruise turned into a stress reaction; then, that day, the malleolus, which is the bone that sticks out of your ankle, just snapped in half. I only took two or three steps.
I’ve been fortunate enough that aside from dislocating my shoulder in 2003, which took me out for six weeks, I’d had no major injuries during my career. This was something different. It was the first serious, major injury I’d ever had. So there was uncertainty about what the doctor was going to say, but I just tried to stay positive. I kept asking when I could come back, not if I could come back.
I broke my ankle in October and was in a boot until January. When I started playing games at the end of February, I ended up breaking it again and landing back in the boot for another six weeks. All of the off-season immobility made the whole process of coming back that much harder. I had to regain my leg strength. I had to do agility and speed work; I wasn’t able to run at all, so I had to get my cardio together. It set me back and took a lot of work to get healthy.
Coming Back
I pride myself on working extremely hard during the off-season, but I probably worked the hardest that I ever have this past year, 2013–14. When I began again it was like starting from square one. I was trying to slim down and rehab my ankle and get the rest of my body in shape all at the same time. All in all, it was a long, hard off-season, the most difficult of my entire career. There are no short cuts when it comes to training; you have to do the work if you want see results. Chef Debbie keeps me disciplined and really helped me this past off-season when I needed to slim down for the sake of my ankle.
FAMILY FIRST
Without question my family has been a huge factor in keeping me consistent as a competitor. They have been at quite a few home games, every year. Baseball is a game where failure is inherent. Even batting .333 means you fail two-thirds of the time. The thing you need is people around you who are going to stay positive. The media has a tendency to be negative on most days, so if I didn’t have people around me to support me, I wouldn’t be able to do what I do.
I think it’s even more important that I have people around me who are always going to be honest with me and tell me what they think I’m doing wrong or right. My family and friends are those people for me. It’s simple: I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for my family. You have to have a good support group, regardless of your profession. If you have any level of success or any level of failure, you have to have a network of people to lean on and count on.
The Family Tree
This past year I participated in the PBS show Finding Your Roots with Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. because my parents and I wanted to learn about the history of our family. They take a sample of your DNA and trace your ancestors back as far as historical records will allow. It was incredible—they were able to trace both my dad’s and mom’s sides back to the 1600s. Because of slavery, it isn’t common for the roots of an African-American family to be traced back that far. The most interesting thing they found was that our last name came from the slave owner, and they were also able to trace the slave owner’s ancestry further back than anyone else they’d ever had on the show.
Re2pect
This season I went to the Nike campus in Oregon to have my ankle scanned and to have them do other tests and measurements so that they could make a shoe that fit me perfectly and provide extra support to my ankle. The doctor who operated on me, Dr. Robert Andersen, traveled to oversee the design and make sure it was the best it could be. How’s that for team effort?
Here, my mom and I are looking at the first pair they sent down. I’ve been with Jordan Brand since 1999, and it’s been such a great thing. I ini
tially met Michael when he was playing baseball in 1994 in the Arizona Fall League. When he asked me to be a part of the brand, I was honored that he would ask me. He’s like a brother to me now, because our relationship has grown throughout the years. To be the first baseball player on his brand was flattering, to say the least. And the ad they did in honor of my last season that aired during the All-Star Game was awesome. Now, at every stadium I visit, people tip their caps to me the way everyone did in the commercial. It’s really nice, and it’s also kind of funny. There was a kid next to the dugout in Boston who did it every single time he caught my eye. I’m happy to do it back—if I have my hat on.
My Nearest and Dearest
I like to share all of my experiences with family and friends as much as possible. I’ve been like that ever since I was a kid. I was the one who always wanted everyone around. If I’m going to a movie, I want everybody to go. If I go to eat, I want everybody to come. So it’s been fun to share the experiences of this final year with the people who mean the most to me.
My True Legacy
It’s been pretty amazing to watch the Turn 2 Foundation grow since 1996. We’ve gotten so much support throughout the community, thanks to our fundraisers and through my partnerships with different brands and companies. To see the growth throughout the years has been awesome, and to work on it as a family has been a special experience. We’ve always been close, but on new levels it’s brought us closer. And the torch is being passed: my dad used to run it, and now my sister is taking it over. I left home when my sister was in seventh grade, so aside from talking on the phone a lot, I missed her growing up. But we’ve grown a lot closer in our adult lives and I’m happy that we work on the foundation together.
Turn 2 has far surpassed anything I could have imagined when my family and I first discussed creating this foundation during my rookie season, and spending more hands-on time with our programs and participants is a major priority for me in retirement. The high school students in our Jeter’s Leaders program are so impressive; they dedicate themselves to mentoring others, modeling healthy lifestyle choices, enacting social change projects, and becoming true leaders. Ultimately I hope they are my most enduring legacy.
The Host with the Most
I got a chance to know Seth Meyers when I hosted Saturday Night Live back in 2001, so I was thrilled that he came out and moderated this year’s Turn 2 Foundation dinner. He did a Q&A with me and I like to think that I gave as well as I got in that exchange. He was a great host and even danced with my mom.
Heeding Dad’s Advice
I played everything when I was young, but baseball and basketball were my two favorites by the time I got to high school. Soccer lasted only a couple of years, and I can tell you why: too much running. In baseball, most of the time you run ninety feet, then take a break. Maybe you’ll leg out a triple and that’s two hundred seventy feet. But soccer? That’s nonstop.
I played third, I pitched, but I always wanted to be a shortstop, because my dad had played shortstop. As a pitcher, I wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t made to be a pitcher. I got out on the mound and threw as hard as I could, but I didn’t really have it in me. I mostly played short, aside from the time my dad, who was my coach, wanted to teach me a lesson. He kept telling me to only worry about the things I could control. Apparently I wasn’t getting the message. He made his point by putting me at second. If you have no control of it, don’t worry about it.
THE TEAM
I had always dreamed of playing for the Yankees and playing in a World Series, but I never dreamed that one day I might end up in Monument Park. That was never part of it and I don’t allow myself to think about it now, even in my last season. That would be getting way ahead of myself and I could never do that. But once the season is over and I’ve had some time to reflect, maybe I’ll let myself think about it. And who knows, one day, maybe they will make a space for me there.
My Hero
I remember the first time I saw Dave Winfield on TV: he was larger than life. He was six foot six, just huge, much bigger than everyone else. He hit the ball harder, he threw the ball harder, and it seemed like he ran faster. He was a hero of mine. To this day I think he’s still the only athlete to be drafted in all three sports—football, baseball, basketball—and he’d never even played football.
Dave was the epitome of the all-around athlete, and in my mind, as I was growing up, he could do no wrong. He also inspired me to start Turn 2, because he was one of the first athletes to have a personal foundation. I met Dave for the first time during my rookie season in 1996, and that was a thrill for me. He never gave me any baseball advice; he just congratulated me and told me to always enjoy the game. I now pass that same tidbit along
Dave is as well known for his colorful relationship with the Boss, but he never gave me advice on handling him—that’s because with the Boss, you just had to live and learn. You can say the same thing about playing in New York. People can give you all the advice in the world, but you just have to experience it.
The Core Four
Jorge and Andy were the first two guys I played with back in 1992. I got called up to Greensboro, but I only played with them for a couple of weeks. I didn’t know them well, and they were older than me. I was just eighteen and the new guy showing up for the last couple of weeks of the season. And then Mo and I played together the next year.
But of the three of them, Jorge became my best friend. I was the best man at his wedding. He is truly like a brother. We’ve spoken a few times this season, and I saw him at spring training. Other than that, Jorge is enjoying the retired life now and pretty much stays away.
We were all disappointed when Andy went to Houston, because we all wanted to keep playing together. We wanted Andy to come back, and we were very glad when he did. One thing you learn very quickly is that MLB is a business, and it can be a cruel one—you have to get used to that. People always talk about players not being loyal to teams, though I don’t think that applies in Andy’s situation, but people do come and go. In any case, we played together a long, long time.
I was amazed to find out at one point that Mo, Jorge, and I had played together for seventeen years. We were the first trio in any professional sport to play together that long. In this era of free agency, I have a feeling that our record is going to be around for a while.
There Is No “I” in Team
The thing I’ll miss the most when I hang it up is my teammates. I’ve played with some of the best players and some of the best guys I’ve ever met. Robinson Cano is a fun guy. He always has a smile on his face and loves playing the game. He makes it look easy when he’s on the field. Robby was the longest-tenured second baseman that I played with in my career, and I was sad to see him go. I do miss Robby a lot this year. For selfish reasons I wish he were still on the team. He’s going to have a long, successful career, and I look forward to watching him.
CC Sabathia is a gamer. He wants the ball, and he wants to be out there pitching in all the big games, regardless of how he’s feeling. He works hard and I’ve always gravitated toward players like that. He’s not afraid to fail; he just wants to be out there, playing his part, being in the big games.
Hideki Matsui was a great teammate and a true competitor. One spring training, Matsui, another teammate, and I were at the batting cage talking about who would get married first. So we decided to bet on it. Two days later, Matsui wasn’t at spring training, because he’d flown to New York to get married. Then he flew back and collected his money from us. The whole time he was making the bet, he knew he was getting married in two days. That’s a competitor.
My Boy Gerald
Gerald Williams took care of me when I first signed with the Yankees in the minors, and we were teammates when I was called up to the majors. He’s still one of my best friends. He lives down in Tampa as well, so we spend a lot of time together, and as you can see in this picture, I’ve got him laughing. People tend to think I don’t have a funny side, but trust me, I
do.
Scooter
I loved listening to Phil Rizzuto broadcast when I was growing up, just all the funny things he would say and his amazing voice. That’s how I got to know him, but once I joined the organization I quickly learned how great a player he was. Whenever Phil came to visit, he would seek me out and take the time to talk. He was always very complimentary and asked me me how I was doing. We never sat down and talked about the intricacies of playing short shop because Phil was about five foot seven and I’m a completely different size, so we played the game differently. But he always treated me great when I was a young player, and those are things you remember—how people treated you when you were coming up. It’s the example players like Phil set that inspire me to help the younger guys now.
Popeye
The best thing about Don Zimmer was the depth of his knowledge. This man spent sixty years in and around the game, and since I’ve always been a sponge for knowledge, I enjoyed hearing about it all. Whether it had to do with playing shortstop or hitting, my ears were open to whatever bits of wisdom Zim had to share. He was a hard-nosed player and he was like that as a coach as well.