Let us remember George Steinbrenner, not whitewash him

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This morning I said “I’m not a believer in whitewashing things when someone dies because the
last thing we should be doing when we lose someone is telling lies that
push their true essence further away from us.”

I really mean that.  There are damn few saints in this world. Even fewer who become billionaire businessmen. George Steinbrenner wasn’t a saint. I suspect he’d be the last person to even suggest it.  Watching the day’s coverage unfold on ESPN and on the Internet, however, and the Big Stein has grown more saintly by the hour.

If you read Bud Selig’s statement about Steinbrenner you’d think that the guy was the salt of the Earth. Rather than mere niceties at the time of one’s passing — which I understand — it’s actively deceptive. Maybe Selig and Steinbrenner were friendly on a personal level, but the fact is that Selig’s entire rise to power as Commissioner was premised on his and a group of like-minded small-market owners’ opposition to Steinbrenner’s financial largess. Indeed, the story of baseball labor relations between the advent of free agency and the 1994-95 strike cannot be understood without reference to the battle between big clubs led by the likes of George Steinbrenner and small clubs led by the likes of Bud Selig.

But Bud Selig is, at his essence, a politician, so I understand why such flavor doesn’t make it into his official statements.  But how, then, do we account for the numerous talking heads who have shown up on my TV screen today painting, however unwittingly, an inaccurate or, at the very least, incomplete portrait of the man?

No, I don’t expect people in the Yankees family, widely defined, to offer up unvarnished truth about their patriarch on a day like today, but could ESPN or MLB Network have found someone today who could shed some insight into — as opposed to making mere footnotey mentions of — his felony conviction for illegal campaign contributions and obstruction of justice?  Or how about Steinbrenner paying Howie Spira $40,000 to dig up dirt on Dave Winfield so Steinbrenner might find a way to get out from under the ten-year contract he gave him?  And rather than merely use his parade of managers in the 1980s as a wide brush with which to paint color on The Boss, could someone be found who could point out that Steinbrenner’s erratic behavior in the 1980s probably did more to cost the Yankees championships than anything else that happened that decade?

I’m not suggesting that these uglier parts of the Steinbrenner legacy should be the lead story.  The man died just this morning for crying out loud.  But if you weren’t Steinbrenner’s family or his close friend, or if you didn’t work for or passionately root for the Yankees, it seems to me that you’re obligated to be thorough and balanced when it comes to covering his death.  The hagiography-to-news
ratio on the Death of George Steinbrenner is growing increasingly larger as the day progresses, however.

I stand by what I said about George Steinbrenner this morning. He was a great figure in baseball in general and for the Yankees in particular. His impact was massive and any true understanding of the game in 2010 is impossible without first understanding George Steinbrenner and his legacy.  The words “titan” and “icon” are thrown around too much when major figures pass, but they are entirely appropriate in the case of Big Stein.

But he was more than that.  In fact, he was a lot of things. The term “a real piece of work” probably describes him best, but under that very large umbrella lies rogue, champion, rake, father, felon, firebrand, leader, fighter and about dozen others I could think of.  I may even go so far as to say that the guy was — in the best sense of the term — a bit of a
sonofabitch too.  I bet he’d agree with me.

In light of that, I’m growing a bit distressed as the day goes on and King George starts to look more and more like Saint George.  It kind of galls me, really. Not because I have a thing against Steinbrenner — I really don’t — but because, when I die, I want people to remember me for what I truly was not for what they feel comfortable saying I was. To do otherwise is to whitewash and to whitewash is to paint over.

And once we’re painted over? We simply disappear.

UPDATE: Charles Pierce at the Globe managed to work in the sonofabitch angle.  The New York Times now has something with a color other than white as well.  And now Dave Brown at Big League Stew has a great post as well. The lesson: I write too damn fast sometimes. Next time I’ll wait for the backlash to come to me.

Gaylord Perry, two-time Cy Young winner, dies at 84

Gregory Fisher-USA TODAY Sports
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GAFFNEY, S.C. — Baseball Hall of Famer and two-time Cy Young Award winner Gaylord Perry, a master of the spitball who wrote a book about using the pitch died at 84.

Perry died at his home in Gaffney of natural causes, Cherokee County Coroner Dennis Fowler said. He did not provide additional details.

“Gaylord Perry was a consistent workhorse and a memorable figure in his Hall of Fame career,” MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred said in a statement, adding, “he will be remembered among the most accomplished San Francisco Giants ever … and remained a popular teammate and friend throughout his life.”

The native of Williamston, North Carolina, made history as the first player to win the Cy Young in both leagues, with Cleveland in 1972 and San Diego in 1978 just after turning 40.

Perry went 24-16 in his debut season with Cleveland after 10 years with the San Francisco Giants. He was 21-6 in his first season with the Padres in 1978 for his fifth and final 20-win season.

“Before I won my second Cy Young I thought I was too old – I didn’t think the writers would vote for me,” Perry said in an article on the National Baseball Hall of Fame website. “But they voted on my performance, so I won it.”

Perry, who pitched for eight major-league teams from 1962 until 1983, was a five-time All-Star who was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1991. He had a career record of 314-255, finished with 3,554 strikeouts and used a pitching style where he doctored baseballs or made batters believe he was doctoring them.

The National Baseball Hall of Fame said in a statement that Perry was “one of the greatest pitchers of his generation.” The Texas Rangers, whom Perry played for twice, said in a statement that the pitcher was “a fierce competitor every time he took the ball and more often than not gave the Rangers an opportunity to win the game.”

“The Rangers express their sincere condolences to Gaylord’s family at this difficult time,” the team’s statement said. “This baseball great will be missed.”

Perry’s 1974 autobiography was titled “Me and the Spitter,” and he wrote it in that when he started in 1962 he was the “11th man on an 11-man pitching staff” for the Giants. He needed an edge and learned the spitball from San Francisco teammate Bob Shaw.

Perry said he first threw it in May 1964 against the New York Mets, pitched 10 innings without giving up a run and soon after entered the Giants’ starting rotation.

He also wrote in the book that he chewed slippery elm bark to build up his saliva, and eventually stopped throwing the pitch in 1968 after MLB ruled pitchers could no longer touch their fingers to their mouths before touching the baseball.

According to his book, he looked for other substances, like petroleum jelly, to doctor the baseball. He used various motions and routines to touch different parts of his jersey and body to get hitters thinking he was applying a foreign substance.

Perry was ejected from a game just once for doctoring a baseball – when he was with Seattle in August 1982. In his final season with Kansas City, Perry and teammate Leon Roberts tried to hide George Brett’s infamous pine-tar bat in the clubhouse but was stopped by a guard. Perry was ejected for his role in that game, too.

After his career, Perry founded the baseball program at Limestone College in Gaffney and was its coach for the first three years.

The Hall of Fame’s statement noted that Perry often returned for induction weekend “to be with his friends and fans.”

“We extend our deepest sympathy to his wife, Deborah, and the entire Perry family,” Baseball Hall of Fame chairman Jane Forbes Clark said.