Yankee Fans Unite

Mickey Mantle was my favorite player. I remember watching him hit some home runs that just dropped my jaw.

Over at LoHud Yankees blog a poster named Old Yanks Fan had put a couple of stories up about Mickey Mantle. I asked him for permission to copy the posts here. I am sure you will enjoy them as much as I have.







I don't think there is any way to deny that Mickey Mantle was incredible.

In the December 4, 1998 WSJ they say, "At peak value - five or six top seasons - Mantle was better than any postwar player. ... Not only was Mantle the greatest power hitter between Ruth and McGwire in terms of home runs per at bat, he hit for spectacular aveages and drew a staggering number of walks. ... His on-base average was only ten points lower than that of Ty Cobb. ... The Mick was a Gold Glove-calibre centerfielder who could switch hit and bunt. His base-stealing percentage is virtually even with Ricky Henderson. ... In our book, Mantle at his best was as good as any player in baseball history."

Bob Costas delivered Mickey's Eulogy, I don't think I've read or heard anything better about one of the best players of the game of baseball.


It occurs to me as we're all sitting here thinking of Mickey, he's probably somewhere getting an earful from Casey Stengel, and no doubt quite confused by now.

One of Mickey's fondest wishes was that he be remembered as a great teammate, to know that the men he played with thought well of him.

But it was more than that. Moose and Whitey and Tony and Yogi and Bobby and Hank, what a remarkable team you were. And the stories of the visits you guys made to Mickey's bedside the last few days were heartbreakingly tender. It meant everything to Mickey, as would the presence of so many baseball figures past and present here today.

I was honored to be asked to speak by the Mantle family today. I am not standing here as a broadcaster. Mel Allen is the eternal voice of the Yankees and that would be his place. And there are others here with a longer and deeper association with Mickey than mine.

But I guess I'm here, not so much to speak for myself as to simply represent the millions of baseball-loving kids who grew up in the '50s and '60s and for whom Mickey Mantle was baseball.

And more than that, he was a presence in our lives -- a fragile hero to whom we had an emotional attachment so strong and lasting that it defied logic. Mickey often said he didn't understand it, this enduring connection and affection -- for men now in their 40s and 50s, otherwise perfectly sensible, who went dry in the mouth and stammered like schoolboys in the presence of Mickey Mantle.

Maybe Mick was uncomfortable with it, not just because of his basic shyness, but because he was always too honest to regard himself as some kind of deity.

But that was never really the point. In a very different time than today, the first baseball commissioner, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, said every boy builds a shrine to some baseball hero, and before that shrine, a candle always burns.

For a huge portion of my generation, Mickey Mantle was that baseball hero. And for reasons that no statistics, no dry recitation of facts can possibly capture, he was the most compelling baseball hero of our lifetime. And he was our symbol of baseball at a time when the game meant something to us that perhaps it no longer does.

Mickey Mantle had those dual qualities so seldom seen, exuding dynamism and excitement but at the same time touching your heart -- flawed, wounded. We knew there was something poignant about Mickey Mantle before we knew what poignant meant.

We didn't just root for him, we felt for him.

Long before many of us ever cracked a serious book, we knew something about mythology as we watched Mickey Mantle run out a home run through the lengthening shadows of a late Sunday afternoon at Yankee Stadium.

There was greatness in him, but vulnerability too.

He was our guy. When he was hot, we felt great. When he slumped or got hurt, we sagged a bit too. We tried to crease our caps like him; kneel in an imaginary on-deck circle like him; run like him heads down, elbows up.

Billy Crystal is here today. Billy says that at his bar mitzvah he spoke in an Oklahoma drawl. Billy's here today because he loved Mickey Mantle, and millions more who felt like him are here today in spirit as well.

It's been said that the truth is never pure and rarely simple.

Mickey Mantle was too humble and honest to believe that the whole truth about him could be found on a Wheaties box or a baseball card. But the emotional truths of childhood have a power to transcend objective fact. They stay with us through all the years, withstanding the ambivalence that so often accompanies the experiences of adults.

That's why we can still recall the immediate tingle in that instant of recognition when a Mickey Mantle popped up in a pack of Topps bubble gum cards -- a treasure lodged between an Eli Grba and a Pumpsie Green.

That's why we smile today, recalling those October afternoons when we'd sneak a transistor radio into school to follow Mickey and the Yankees in the World Series.

Or when I think of Mr. Tomasee, a very wise sixth-grade teacher who understood that the World Series was more important, at least for one day, than any school lesson could be. So he brought his black-and-white TV from home, plugged it in and let us watch it right there in school through the flicker and the static. It was richer and more compelling than anything I've seen on a high-resolution, big-screen TV.

Of course, the bad part, Bobby, was that Koufax struck 15 of you guys out that day.

My phone's been ringing the past few weeks as Mickey fought for his life. I've heard from people I hadn't seen or talked to in years -- guys I played stickball with, even some guys who took Willie's side in those endless Mantle-Mays arguments. They're grown up now. They have their families. They're not even necessarily big baseball fans anymore. But they felt something hearing about Mickey, and they figured I did too.

In the last year, Mickey Mantle, always so hard on himself, finally came to accept and appreciate that distinction between a role model and a hero. The first he often was not, the second he always will be.

In the end, people got it. And Mickey Mantle got from America something other than misplaced and mindless celebrity worship. He got something far more meaningful. He got love -- love for what he had been; love for what he made us feel; love for the humanity and sweetness that was always there mixed in with the flaws and all the pain that wracked his body and his soul.

We wanted to tell him that it was OK, that what he had been was enough. We hoped he felt that Mutt Mantle would have understood and that Merlyn and the boys loved him.

And then in the end, something remarkable happened -- the way it does for champions. Mickey Mantle rallied. His heart took over, and he had some innings as fine as any in 1956 or with his buddy, Roger, in 1961.

But this time, he did it in the harsh and trying summer of '95. And what he did was stunning. The sheer grace of that ninth inning -- the humility, the sense of humor, the total absence of self pity, the simple eloquence and honesty of his pleas to others to take heed of his mistakes.

All of America watched in admiration. His doctors said he was, in many ways, the most remarkable patient they'd ever seen. His bravery, so stark and real, that even those used to seeing people in dire circumstances were moved by his example.

Because of that example, organ donations are up dramatically all across America. A cautionary tale has been honestly told and perhaps will affect some lives for the better.

And our last memories of Mickey Mantle are as heroic as the first.

None of us, Mickey included, would want to be held to account for every moment of our lives. But how many of us could say that our best moments were as magnificent as his?

This is the cartoon from this morning's Dallas Morning News. Maybe some of you saw it. It got torn a little bit on the way to the hotel to here. There's a figure here, St. Peter I take it to be, with his arm around Mickey, that broad back and the number 7. He's holding his book of admissions. He says "Kid, that was the most courageous ninth inning I've ever seen."

It brings to mind a story Mickey liked to tell on himself and maybe some of you have heard it. He pictured himself at the pearly gates, met by St. Peter who shook his head and said "Mick, we checked the record. We know some of what went on. Sorry, we can't let you in. But before you go, God wants to know if you'd sign these six dozen baseballs."

Well, there were days when Mickey Mantle was so darn good that we kids would bet that even God would want his autograph. But like the cartoon says, I don't think Mick needed to worry much about the other part.

I just hope God has a place for him where he can run again. Where he can play practical jokes on his teammates and smile that boyish smile, 'cause God knows, no one's perfect. And God knows there's something special about heroes.

So long, Mick. Thanks.

734 feet (5/22/63, Yankee Stadium Façade* - Pitcher: Bill Fischer, Kansas City Athletics - Left-handed)
Mickey said that the "hardest ball I ever hit" came in the 11th inning on May 22, 1963 at Yankee Stadium. Leading off in the bottom of the 11th, with the score tied 7-7, A's pitcher Bill Fischer tried to blow a fastball past Mickey.

Bad idea. Mickey stepped into it and, with perfect timing, met the ball with the sweet spot of his bat, walloping it with everything he had. The sound of the bat colliding with the ball was likened to a cannon shot. The players on both benches jumped to their feet. Yogi Berra shouted, "That's it!" The ball rose in a majestic laser-like drive, rocketing into the night toward the farthest confines of Yankee Stadium. The question was never whether it was a home run or not. The question was whether this was going to be the first ball to be hit out of Yankee Stadium.

That it had the height and distance was obvious. But would it clear the façade, the decoration on the front side of the roof above the third deck in rightfield? "I usually didn't care how far the ball went so long as it was a home run. But this time I thought, 'This ball could go out of Yankee Stadium!'"

Just as the ball was about to leave the park, it struck the façade mere inches from the top with such ferocity that it bounced all the way back to the infield. That it won the game was an afterthought. Mickey just missed making history. It was the closest a ball has ever come to going out of Yankee Stadium in a regular season game.**

The question then became "How far would the ball have gone had the façade not prevented it from leaving the park?" Using geometry, it is possible to calculate the distance with some accuracy. The principle variable is how high the ball would have gone. If we assume the ball was at its apex at the point where it struck the façade, using the Pythagorean Theorem ("In a right triangle, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides") we can determine the distance from home plate to the point where the ball struck the façade. Then we can use calculus to calculate that the distance the ball would have traveled would have been 636 feet. However, there are a number of undetermined factors: wind velocity, spin on the ball, the speed of the pitch Mickey hit, and others. (For a more complete explanation of the calculations and complete description of this and other Mantle homers, see Explosion! by Mark Gallagher. This book is the definitive book on Mantle's homers. Unfortunately, it is out of print. It may be available at your local library.)

So how do we get 734 feet? In the example above, we assumed that the ball was at its apex when it struck the façade. However, observers were unanimous in their opinion that the ball was still rising when it hit the façade. How do we determine how high the ball would have gone? In fact, we cannot. From this point forward all numbers become guesses, estimates of how high we think the ball might have gone. A conservative estimate would be 20 feet. Those 20 feet make a major difference. They cause our calculation to go up almost 100 feet, to the 734 foot number listed above. Is 20 feet a fair estimate? Those present when the ball was hit feel that it would have gone at least that much higher, and many feel that the 20 foot number is far too low. It is all just a guess.

This is a good example of what can happen with estimates, especially computer estimates that determine the length of home runs now. Most of the home run distance numbers used today are the result of computer estimates of how far the ball would have traveled without obstruction. (One of these programs gave the 734 foot number listed.) Whether or not this is a fair number is a matter of opinion. However, if the distance of this home run is disputed, then the distance of many of the home runs hit by today's players must be questioned. While the software used for home run distances has greatly improved, there remain questions as to its accuracy. It is important to note that many of Mickey's home runs were measured to the point they actually landed, leaving no question about the accuracy of the distance reported.

* The façade was the decorative facing along the roof of the old Yankee Stadium. Mickey hit the façade in regular-season games at least three times during his career: May 5, 1956 off Moe Burtschy, May 20, 1956 off Pedro Ramos, and May 22, 1963 off Bill Fischer.

** Legend has it that Mickey hit balls completely out of Yankee Stadium up to three times during batting practices. Supposedly Mickey did it twice left-handed and once right-handed. Witnesses of these incredible feats include fans, stadium vendors, teammates and opposing players.

I do not have a dry eye, after reading all of this.

The Mick?

You mean maybe the best player I ever saw?

That Mick?

What I liked about it is it was putting into words the things I knew in my heart about the Mick.

I've read things that discount the long, off the facade home run. Saying it was only 630 ft. Hard to say. I think there are valid points on both sides of it. One side arguing against said the ball was on the way down when it struck. We will never truly know, but one thing is certain, Mickey could cream the ball from both sides of the plate. That is tremendous.

656 feet (3/26/51, Bovard Field, USC – Exhibition Game. Pitcher: Unknown – Left-handed)

Mickey was having a fantastic spring training. In 1951 the Yankees trained in Arizona instead of Fort Lauderdale. The dry desert air and higher altitude are conducive to the longball, and Mickey made the most of it. "The first time that I really knew I could play in the big leagues was when I found that I could hit major league pitching that spring.

"I was just happy to be with the club that year. I thought I was going to play Triple A ball with Kansas City. I was in Double A the year before and no one had ever gone directly to the Yankees from Double A.

"I hit a lot of long home runs that spring. After our spring training schedule in Arizona we played some exhibition games on the west coast. At Seals Stadium in San Francisco I hit a ball where they say only DiMaggio had hit one before. And of course there was the home run at USC."

Bovard Field at the University of Southern California is a small ball diamond with a football field adjacent to right and right-centerfield. A street runs outside and parallel to the leftfield wall, with a number of houses in the neighborhood across from the park. On March 26, 1951 the Yankees played an exhibition game with the USC baseball team. During the game Mickey belted two spectacular blasts, one from each side of the plate. They were two of the longest home runs ever seen.

The first blast, hit right-handed, was a high drive that easily cleared the leftfield wall. It crossed the street running parallel to the park and landed on the roof of the third house down on the street that runs perpendicular into the street outside Bovard Field. No estimate has ever been given for its length, although it is safe to say it was easily over 500 feet, and may have approached 600 feet. A tremendous blast by any standards.

But Mickey wasn't finished. His second homer came left-handed. Mickey rocketed the ball over the right-centerfield wall, across the adjacent football field, finally landing on the far sideline and hopping over the fence bordering the field. The distance: 656 feet to the point where it first landed! 19-year-old Mickey Mantle had just hit the longest home run in baseball history! In a single game Mantle hit two homers that were longer than most major league players hit in a career.

The distance of the second homer is well documented. The USC outfielder, Tom Riach, and legendary USC coach Rod Dedeaux both saw the exact spot where the ball landed. Later each separately went out and pointed to the spot. They were two feet apart. Said Dedeaux, "It was a superhuman feat."

Before Mickey played a single major league game he'd become a legend.

Fascinating read, OG. I read part of it earlier and just finished with the recent one you've posted. Thanks for all of that.

Years ago, Mickey went to a restaurant called "The Red Lion" in Rochester, NY where Dave's sister happened to work at the time. She got Mickey to autograph a napkin so that she could give it to Dave. He still has it in the inside cover of one of his school yearbooks. He showed it to me again today. It says, "To David, Best Wishes, Mickey Mantle".

Wow, I that is special.

I have a baseball autographed by Mickey. I treasure it.

I have a baseball signed by Mick, Ford, Berra and McDougald. Back then, I thought they'd all get in the Hall.

Wow, now that is one special ball. Do you have it under lock and key? I'd almost be afraid to display it.

Thanks for that Goat. The Mick was my dad's favorite player. I was at the stadium once during his last season, but I was too young to remember most of it. I met him a couple times at spring training in the late 70's, when I was working for the Yanks. He was a great guy.

That must have been pretty cool, working for the Yankees and meeting Mickey Frickin' Mantle.

I loved on Yankeeography how they showed Mickey's name sort of like this:

MicKEY MANtle

Saying how even his name showed what he was to the team.

Man, I have tons of great stories about those days. No kidding. For a few years, I was on first name basis with Thurm, Reggie , Lou etc. But my favorite guy to talk to was Mickey Rivers. They absolutely got him perfect in The Bronx is Burning.

That is probably a job many of us would have taken for free, just for the opportunity of it.

I hope you'll tell us some of the stories you have.