It’s Over

Or

Needs 6 Pallberras

(An epitaphany shared with Joe)

Or

Passed Ballplayer

(Solo props for Joe)

Or

Catcher in the Ground

(More jocularity from Joe)

Yogi Berra, the most beloved father of a coke dealing shortstop in major league baseball history, has taken the fork in the road, dying at the age of 90. Berra was a World War II veteran, landing on Normandy on D-Day, when he was so busy admiring the beauty of the Allies’ aerial formation that his sergeant had to advise him that if he intended on keeping his head, he’d better keep it down. The crucible of the World Series would be relaxing by comparison, which may help explain how in his 19 seasons, he played in 14 World Series, winning 10 and collecting 91 hits, both records unlikely to be matched. With jug ears and a perpetual grin, an awkward stance and a propensity to hit line drives on balls out of the strike zone, Berra looked more like a mascot than a ballplayer, but in a career that overlapped both Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle, Berra won 3 MVPs, and finished in the top 4 in MVP balloting in 7 straight seasons, a feat unmatched in history. After he retired in 1963 as the leading HR career hitter among catchers, he was named the manager of the Yankees, leading the aging team to the last pennant of their golden age and was immediately fired after the season. Not his most ignoble exit from the Yankees, as George Steinbrenner fired him 16 games into the 1985 season, which led Berra to exile himself until Steinbrenner made an apologetic pilgrimage to his homestead in Montclair, NJ. In addition to forcing the Boss to prostrate himself, Berra endeared himself to fans through his unique usage of language. Oft-quoted Yogisms include “No one goes there anymore, it’s too crowded,” “It gets late early out there,” in reference to a dark outfield, concluding Yogi Berra Day in St. Louis with "Thank you for making this day necessary," and addressed the preponderance of faux Yogi-ism by noting, "I really didn't say everything I said." Years ago, when Berra’s wife asked him whether he wanted to be buried in his hometown of St. Louis, New York, where he had spent his career, or near his Montclair home, Yogi replied, “Surprise me.”