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Nov
2007
Joe Torre
By DA SCHMOOZE
DA SCHMOOZE would like to tip his hat to good old number 9 in pinstripes, Mr. Joe Torre.
For twelve seasons, under rather difficult circumstances, you kept your cool while everyone around you was calling for your head.
Even though sports writers, radio jocks, and neighborhood drunks continually questioned your every move. Whether it was your handling of the pitching staff, or the TV commercials you chose to appear in, - you never lost your temper.
You never kicked dirt on the umpires.
You never threw anything other than bread at pigeons.
You never cursed any, spoiled rich kid that managed to get Daddy Warbucks to reach into his pocket and shell out a few large for seats behind the dugout, then thought it was their duty to point out that, “My Daddy says that you aint got nothin’ on Billy Martin.”
At worst, you scratched your head in disbelief when things went a little bit haywire like they often did in Da Bronx.
While every year management brought in new coaches to watch, listen and learn from you, all with the intent of one of them taking your place when management felt it was time to pull the rug out from under you, nevertheless, you dealt with all your staff in the most professional manner.
For the Yankees to turn around and reward such dedication with a one year, multi-million dollar, slap-in-the-face, contract is beyond belief.
I, for one, don’t blame you for bolting to the left coast - that land of fruits and nuts.
I can only hope they appreciate what they’re paying for.
After all, we are talking about a stadium where instead of getting a hot dog, with a Roy White knish that you can wash down with an over-priced beer - you get to munch on burritos that go down, not so readily, with ice, cold guacamole smoothies. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
Da Bronx will miss ya, Joe.
That’s all Da Schmooze, for now.
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