Torre's Book This Year's Fist Pump

Well, there seems to be one Spring Training question that we've already got an answer to: What will be this year's ridiculous controversy made for probably no other reason than that it involves the Yankees.

Last year, it was Joba's fist pump.

This year, it's Torre's book.

It's a controversy for a few reasons, but perhaps the biggest one is that Torre seemingly violates the unwritten code that what goes on in the clubhouse stays in the clubhouse.

Now, I'm not a guy. I don't know how serious these man-codes are, and I, perhaps fortunately for everyone else, have never possessed the athletic gift to play on a team. So the entire idea of a locker-room culture is a bit foreign to me, like the idea of offering Pagan sacrifices to the gods. I understand the concept, but I will never fully understand it because I'm not a part of it.

But anyway.

Regardless of my ignorance, what did apparently happen here, is a breach of trust.

The players trusted Torre, told him things in confidence, things that were never meant for the public to here. Whether or not the players should have trusted Torre is obviously another story, but for now, what's important is that they did and Torre broke that trust.

While the Yankees might be fine moving on from now, seeing as Torre is no longer their manager, you have to wonder what's going through the mind of the LA Dodgers, whom Torre manages. The tenor in that clubhouse now will likely be somewhat awkward--I mean, what if you were a Dodger and your boss just sold out his former workers?

I was told the other night that at Torre's book signing there were crowds cheering for him, though I have to wonder what portion of the crowd were Yankee-haters or simply fed-up Yankee fans as opposed to die-hard Yankee fans. I'm not delusional; the latter probably outnumbered the former, but I'm still curious to see what the split was.

So I guess in this sense this controversy isn't perhaps as pointless as the fist pump, but, at the same time, it's destined to become a favorite distraction of the media.

Ethics Breach Surfaces

According to River Ave Blues, among the many accusations surfacing in Joe Torre's new books, one is that the Steinbrenners were informed by team medical personnel about Torre's prostate cancer before Torre himself .

There are three distinct possibilities here:

1) The above is true and results in a distinct breach of medical ethics. Even if doctor-patient confidentiality, for whatever reason I don't know, doesn't exist, there isn't really a question that an adult, conscious patient of sound mind has a right to know about his or her own medical condition before anyone else, including his or her employers.

2) The above is false and results in a little fuzzier but still pretty distinct breach of journalism ethics. It is hard to believe that either Torre or a writer as respected as Verducci would blatantly make something up, so it's possible that Verducci didn't do a very good job checking his sources, which is hard to imagine when it's Torre's book! If Torre willingly and knowingly consented to let a false allegation appear, then Torre pretty much loses whatever credibility he had. If Torre willingly consented to let the allegation appear and believed that it was true, it's a different story, but that said, Torre's not an idiot. It seems hard to believe that he could let himself think such a thing.

3) The best case scenario is that it is unfounded internet rumor. In which case, there is still an ethics breach, though Torre, the team doctors and the Steinbrenners get to keep their name.

Torre Tell-All Trashes Yanks

According to this article, a tell-all book, ghost-written by Tom Verducci, has Joe Torre revealing a bitter rift with the New York Yankees.

It would have been foolish, of course, to suggest that Torre's entire 1996-2007 tenure with the New York Yankees was without fault on either side, but such a work can only harm Torre's relationship with the team that employed him for twelve years.

My brother linked me to the story, and his opinion on the situation isn't that much different than my own:

...My biggest gripe about it is that it isn't only a rip on the players, but consequently it's a rip on the fans saying like "lol you follow a scummy team." Keep some of that shit in the clubhouse Joe, you just lost a lot of my respect...and the respect from most New Yorkers who think you are a class act guy. It obviously sounds astounding to have a grudge against someone who helped brought your favorite team ... four World Series...but there was no reason to trash a former team.

A Yankees fan would have to be an idiot not to be grateful for Torre for the four World Series, but at the same time, my brother has a point--a slight on the team like this is also a slight on the fans.

Perhaps more importantly, and more unfortunately, it's a bit harder to go around calling Torre a class act right now.

I don't know about you, but for all of Jeter's faults (ie, his lack of range and tendency to GIDP), I can't see the Captain ever doing something like this...

An Open Letter to Joe Torre

This is long, rambly, and, well, I probably really shouldn't be that attached to the Yankees, but I had to do it.

I know, in all likelihood Joe Torre will never see it, but if there's any chance at all, (psst: pass it on?!) here goes:

Dear Mr. Torre—

This is going to sound a bit odd, but right now, if I could, I’d run up and hug you.

I know, I know, it’s odd, slightly inappropriate and liable to get me arrested, but it’s the truth.

See, I am too young to have known any other Yankees’ manager.

I’ve watched coaches for the Devils, Nets and Jets come and go, year in and year out, and half the time I’m not even sure who’s behind the bench, but for the past twelve years I’ve known that if I peer into a Yankee dugout, you’d be there.

I don’t even really know what to say. I’m sitting a few hundred miles away from Yankee Stadium in Syracuse, New York, where the air hangs heavy like a funeral shroud, and there are tears on my face.

My parents told me time and again that I shouldn’t get so attached to the Yankees, but I was never really any good at following instructions.

I’ve watched, wished, hoped, dreamed, cried, shouted, cursed, threatened violence, gotten violent, cheered and seen the improbable and the impossible.

The games I remember best are ones like the Aaron Boone game and Bernie’s catch of Piazza’s long fly ball to beat the Mets and Jeter’s flip to Posada to nab Giambi…but also ones that you may have forgotten:

I remember being down 6-1 to Toronto in the eighth in a pretty meaningless game, and listening to John Sterling call it as Bernie and Posada each went yard, with Grand Slams.

I remember coming back from a 9-0 deficit and winning the game against Texas…don’t even remember what year, just that we did it.

I remember beating Texas in a 21-6 game, and thinking I’d never see anything like that again (I was wrong).

I remember seeing Alfonso Soriano’s first major league at bat and thinking he was a guy that was going to be around for a while.

I remember back in the days when I still had to be in bed by ten, listening to the end of Yankee games on the clock radio I had in my bedroom, as John Sterling magically called “Yankees win! Theeeee Yankees win!”, soothing me to sleep.

I remember that the morning after I’d have to get my brother up for school and I’d try to come up with as creative a way as possible to tell him how the Yankees won or lost a game…I remember telling him once that the ‘fire put out the rain’, a reference to Bernie hitting a game winning HR in extra innings, as rain was coming down in buckets.

I remember watching game one of the 1998 World Series with my parents, having to tell my dad that Tino’s batting .125 in the playoffs was actually really bad, then seeing the count go full…and then…well, you know what happened.

I remember the very first Yankee game I went to—May 1999. I remember walking into Yankee Stadium and thinking I’d stepped into Heaven. I remember I had a strong dislike of Manny Ramirez then (as he played for Cleveland)…it’s good to know some things never change!

I remember Don Zimmer and Mel the pitching coach. I remember Jeff Nelson and Mike Stanton. I remember Chili Davis and Miguel Cairo and, hell, I even remember a random game in 1998 or 1999 where Mariano Rivera got the start.

I remember being in summer camp, and getting an email from my dad on 18 July 1999, with the Yankee score. I remember thinking first that the reporter was using ‘perfect’ in the metaphorical sense, then realizing he wasn’t, and then shouting it aloud to everyone, whether or not they cared.

I remember you, Joe Torre, being the constant. I remember what people said—that you were lucky, that the Yankees were a Porsche but any other manager would have driven the car off of a cliff.


I don’t know how else to put into words how much you managing the Yankees has been a part of my life.

I’m just a fan. I can’t speak for anyone on the team, or even any other Yankee fan.

Yes, there were decisions I didn’t agree with, things that might not have sat right, but I would tell myself that I’m not the Yankees manager. You don’t stay manager for long if you’re not any good, and well, if you pass the decade mark, you’re pretty damned good.

God, I know it’s corny, but I can’t imagine the Yankees without you there. I thought it would be hard to imagine the Yankees without Paul and Scotty B and Tino, and it was, but imagining the Yankees without you there is just damned near impossible.

I wish I could have been at the Stadium tonight, chanting your name, with the rest. I don’t care about what anyone says, but you were not good for the Yankees, you were amazing.

You gave us all something amazing these past twelve years. I was proud to be a Yankee fan in 1996; more than ever I am proud to be a Yankee fan in 2007.

So, I guess what I’m really trying to say is, Thank You.


I can thank the Good Lord for making me a Yankee fan, but I’m thanking you for never, ever making me doubt it.

Thank you,

Rebecca.