I have now almost totally weaned myself off of listening to WFAN (apart from Mets games). It was hard at first, because I grew up in a house where this station was on all the time. The sounds of sports radio, however dumb, are like audio comfort food to me. But I’ve come to realize it’s more like audio Cheetos–it provides no nutrition and leaves behind a sticky, powdery mess.
However, I will occasionally tune in after a good series for the Mets. I like to soak up some good vibes and listen to those sad sacks who bitch and moan no matter what the team does. I did this yesterday and also heard the late morning/early afternoon hosts Joe Benigno and Evan Roberts interview Bill Madden, Latino-phobic Daily News scribe and George Steinbrenner biographer.
I have yet to read his Steinbrenner book, though I would like to. But if a subtitle like “The Last Lion of Baseball” didn’t clue you into the book’s tone, then this interview would have (you can hear the whole thing here). Like most folks who speak of Big Stein these days, Madden was effusive in his praise of the Yankees owner. He credits Steinbrenner with “making the Yankees a billion-dollar enterprise”. Asked if he should be in the Hall of Fame, Madden responded, “if you tried to write a definitive history of baseball, I defy you to be able to do it without mentioning George Steinbrenner prominently throughout it.”
You also can’t write a history of the 2000’s without mentioning George W. Bush prominently throughout it. That doesn’t make him a great president. He had a lot of impact on the world, and most of it was negative. Prominence doesn’t necessarily equal greatness, and it certainly doesn’t necessarily equal goodness.
I know I’ve written about this before, but whenever confronted with this take on Steinbrenner, I feel like I have to raise my hand and provide a counter-argument. Because with each passing year, the idea of George Steinbrenner as a terrible owner seems to trickle down the memory hole.
And I know I’ve told this story before, too, but it also bears repeating because no one seems to remember this era anymore. The day Steinbrenner received his second “lifetime” suspension in 1990, I was at my grandparents house. I remember it distinctly because my uncle–an out-of-his-skull fanatical Yankees fan–was also there, and when the news came down, he literally leaped in the air, clapped his hand, and yelled with joy.
Because by that point, Yankee fans were in open revolt. The 1980s were an anxious, fallow period for the franchise. Despite spending top dollar on the best available free agents (surprise, surprise), the Yankees missed out on the playoffs for 13 straight seasons–a long drought for any team, let alone them.
Continue reading The Non-Persistence of Memory, George Steinbrenner Edition
“Welcome, O infamy! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of my experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the final impetus for full replay.”
I’m only gonna say this once, because time is money, capisce? Especially my time. I make more caysh in one afternoon than you do all year. I don’t know who you are, but if you’re 98 percent of the population, what I just said is true.