The Death of King George

Now that the corpse has cooled sufficiently, let's take another look and perspective on what was George M. Steinbrenner III.

Last week, upon the news of the Boss' demise after several years of ill health and oatmeal thrown at the walls, I took a few passing shots at him in my Wednesday rant. Heck, it was like a bowl of potato chips put in front of me. How could I resist? But, those one-liners really sparked a reaction in the world of Len Speaks readership. An on-line comment or two, plus a whole bunch of e-mails. The consensus? I was jealous. I was envious. I was mean. I wished I rooted for a baseball team that had an owner who cared this much about his baseball team.

And, from those statements, I will confess. Yes. Yes. Usually. And yes.

In five minutes, my responses to those statements might be as follows. No. No. Not always. And no.

Yes, twenty years ago, I would have done an Irish jig on Steinbrenner's freshly packed grave. Today, with him definitely in the ground, my feelings as a life-long Yankee hater are surprisingly ambivalent.

Not so the lamestream sports media, which has virtually canonized the guy. Okay, unless I misunderstand the rules, the signing of Reggie Jackson to a long term contract would not qualify as a miracle in the Pope's eyes. But, in death, Boss George seems to be getting the media hall pass that Barack Obama is enjoying in life.

So, I heard from a lot of Yankee fan friends last week. The dumb Yankee fans see nothing wrong with anything George did and they are all ready to pin dollar bills to his statue. The smart Yankee fans (there are quite a few) recognize his many flaws but appreciate the fact that he helped them enjoy several World Championships in their lifetimes while other baseball fans may experience none. The smartest Yankee fan (I know one) acknowledges everything the owner did for the year, but recognizes that the man essentially ruined the game of baseball for everybody else.

My feelings are in there somewhere.

As a Dodger and Met fan with current ownerships that are misguided at best, I do wish my teams had the werewithal to spend money freely for any free agent player that they needed. Let's face it, George always had the cash and the gumption to do so. A smart businessman, he kept the dollars flowing from smart business ventures and customized TV networks, etc.. The Mets and the eternally inept Wilpon family never did the same. The Dodgers are finally starting a TV network/cash cow in 2013, perhaps four years too late for soon-to-be-divorced-and-also-probably-gone-from-Los-Angeles Frank McCourt. Indeed, McCourt's money dried up two years ago, so I'm thinking he used to have Goldman Sachs on his speed dial.

So, yes, George wins hands down in the business acumen competition. But, at the same time, there is always something more likeable about watching home-grown talent come up and make the necessary mistakes on the road to superstardom. Back in the 80s with Mets like Ron Darling, Dwight Gooden, and Darryl Strawberry. Now in the 21st Century with Dodgers like Matt Kemp, Clayton Kershaw, and James Loney. As a baseball fan, I can develop a solid relationship with someone that has grown with me. How do you manage that when your newest first baseman is playing with you simply because you gave him a blank check?

You can argue that the Yankees now have home-grown talent. But, let's be serious. That's because the Boss was doing nothing more strenuous than the TV Guide Crossword Puzzle the past five years. He's had nothing to do with the development of this team. Just like he had nothing to do with the nurturing of previous Yankee farmhands like Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera. Why not? Well, during their development years, George had been banned from baseball. For the second time. Little factoids that were frequently missing from all the press coverage last week.

So, while Steinbrenner can and should be lauded for his desire to maintain a Yankee winning tradition, he contributed little to that beyond writing a check. When it came to judging talent on the field, the Boss was pretty dreadful. The years where he was completely hands-on in that area were perhaps the Yankees' worst seasons in the past four decades. More haziness and clouds that need to be considered when one contemplates the ultra-clear skies of a Steinbrenner career.

I've read and heard ad nauseum about the philantrophic tendencies of one Boss George. Incredibly generous. Overly charitable. He'd help anybody when they were down and out.

Uh huh.

Hey, if I've got the money, I might do the same. And, let's face it, folks. George probably deducted all of this from his taxes, so there was financial gain for him in the long run. I don't doubt that he did any of these wonderful gestures. But I also know that he surreptiously fired employees on a whim. Oh, I'm not talking about all those times when he shitcanned that pea-brained hapless drunk Billy Martin. I'm thinking about the unsung targets of daily rants from the paranoid schizophrenic Boss. Ticket takers, ushers, the average Joe working at Yankee Stadium. Where was the charity for them? I also read that Steinbrenner regularly fucked over employees by cutting medical plans and other benefits. Hey, who cares if Mabel the telephone operator no longer has dental coverage? The Yankees needed a pitcher like Ed Whitson.

Yogi Berra got it. At least for a while. He walked away from this asshole pledging never to set foot in Yankee Stadium while Steinbrenner was still in charge of the team. But, ultimately, he relented. Maybe because he realized that the guy was not completely a saint. Or completely the devil. In death, as in life, George should be viewed just like all of us. Flawed. Not black or white, but in many hues of gray.

Colors that communicate to me now at last in shades of complete ambivalence.

Dinner last night: Pork loin with fig and port gravy plus wild rice and roasted veggies.