Book Review: "Yogi Berra: Eternal Yankee"

A few years ago, I was in my local town running a few errands.  On one block, there used to be a place called Last Licks, a combination ice cream parlor and sports memorabilia store.  I've dabbled in autographed baseballs here and there and the manager of the store was helping me authenticate a few pieces I had from the mid 1990's.  As I was walking by, I figured I'd stop in and see if he was working. I entered the narrow store, which was nearly empty, but something looked different.  The display case that was normally on the left side had been moved.  In it's place sat a long, catering-type table seating three men, the middle of which was Yogi Berra. I stopped dead in my tracks, looking around the store wondering why the place was empty.  A quick check of my watch said 2:55, the sign above the register reading, "Yogi Berra, Saturday 1:00 - 3:00."  I made my way to the register to see if he was still signing.  "Fifty bucks," the kid responded.  I slapped my credit card down and asked for a ball as well. Ball and receipt in hand, I walked over to the table and handed both to one of the large men surrounding Yogi.  Yogi looked up at me and smiled, taking the ball from the man and signing it, then handing it to me, smiling again. I grabbed the ball with my left hand and stuck out my right.  "It's really great to meet you, Yogi."  He grabbed my hand with his bear-like paw, giving it a firm squeeze for his advanced age.  "It's nice to meet you, too," he replied. That was as close as I've ever come to greatness.  I had never met a Yankee in person before and haven't met another since.  Somehow, though, meeting Yogi that day and shaking his hand brought me closer to baseball history than I ever could have hoped, even if it was only for a brief moment. In his new biography, Yogi Berra: Eternal Yankee, Allen Barra sets out to prove why Yogi Berra was not only one of the greatest players of his or any other generation, but a great person as well.  While Barra is certainly up to the task, it quickly becomes obvious that the story of Yogi Berra practically wrote itself. Born and raised in "The Hill" area of St. Louis, Yogi's life was one always consumed by athletics, whether by earning extra money for the family in amateur boxing or organizing his un-sponsored and therefore uniform-less baseball team.  Yogi loved athletics and hated school so much that he eventually stopped his education after the eighth grade, choosing to work instead.  Branch Rickey, famed St. Louis Cardinals president, offered Yogi's friend Joe Garagiola a contract and $500 bonus while offering Yogi only $250.  Yogi knew, as did Joe and everyone else on the Hill, that he was the better catcher.  Yogi wasn't going to take less than he knew he was worth, a trait that would define Yogi's financial success for the rest of his life. Soon, Yogi landed a contract with the New York Yankees and played for their class B Norfolk team before being drafted for World War II.  After volunteering for a job that nobody wanted in the Navy's rocket division, Yogi found himself at the front of the D-Day invasion of Normandy, firing rockets on the beach to help clear a path for the oncoming ground assault. Through guile and luck, Yogi survived the war and returned to the states, where he played for the Newark Bears.  Towards the end of the 1946 season, he was called up to the big club in the Bronx and hit a home run in his second at-bat.  He would spend the next 18 years in pinstripes. Calling Yogi's career "storied" is a bit of a misnomer.  Not only was Yogi arguably the greatest catcher of all time, but his career spanned two major eras in the history of the Yankees: Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle.  Allen Barra makes the argument in the book that Yogi's ten World Series rings justifies calling Berra's career the "Yogi era," given that his accomplishments outweigh those of either Joltin' Joe or The Mick.  One might reasonably call it the Casey Stengal era as well, although Casey only participated in seven of the ten titles. Allen Barra does an admirable job profiling the life of Yogi.  From the beginning of the book, Barra has a full grasp of his subject matter, keeping the tone and the pace in much the same character as his subject manner: the book moves briskly and often has you smiling at the numerous anecdotes and Yogiisms peppered throughout.  It is clear that Barra has a lot of affection for Yogi and it comes through in his writing. One of the more interesting sections of the book covers Yogi's time in the service, an era of his life I was only moderately aware of.  Any review of baseball during the forties and fifties is rife with stories about ballplayers losing time to World War II or the Korean War.  Reading about Yogi's experiences on D-Day and afterward certainly puts a new perspective on the man and makes one realize just how lucky you have to be, in baseball and in life, to have the type of career that Yogi had.  Luck may be the "residue of design," as Branch Rickey is quoted as saying, but Yogi's luck both saved his life and made his career. Once Yogi joins the Yankees, the book takes a little bit of a turn.  Allen Barra still follows Yogi and enlightens with stories about his seasons and his contract struggles with Yankees GM George Weiss, but he also does a comprehensive breakdown of most of the teams Yogi played on.*  As such, there are lengthy passages in the book talking about whether Whitey Ford should have started game one of the 1960 World Series or if George Weiss was a racist.  These passages are well written and worth a read, but ultimately seem to distract somewhat from the subject at hand.  Yogi's stats and performance are addressed, but most of the off the field information is limited to stories quoted from other books written by Yogi himself.  There is very little revealed about Yogi the man during much of his playing career, leading one to believe he is either very private, very boring, or most likely a combination of both. In the end, that assessment seems reasonable.  It quickly becomes apparent while reading about Yogi's life that, not only was he a great baseball player, but he is also a genuine person.  What may pass as boring due to lack of controversy or sizzle is actually a profile in integrity, determination, and love of family. After reading Barra's book, it's easy to understand why Yogi Berra became an American icon almost before he became a baseball legend.  Yogi did indeed represent everything that was good about baseball and about America at the time.  The fact that Yogi is still so beloved today is a testimate to his accomplishments and to his character. In his early playing days, Yogi endured severe verbal abuse for his size and looks in the stands and in the papers.  Rather than lash out at his attackers, Yogi simply put his head down and made himself one of the most recognizable athletes in the country.  The chiding soon stopped.

* It is during these sections that Barra does some rather rudimentary statistical analysis.  At first, I was bothered a bit by what seemed like laziness, using wins to determine a pitcher's performance or quoting batting average.  Repeatedly, Barra applauds Yogi's low strikeout totals, citing them as proof of Yogi's tremendous ability to handle a bat.It becomes apparent, though, that Barra is judging the players in the context from which they were judged at the time, thus shedding light on some of the personnel decisions at the time.  Barra also redeems himself with some extensive appendices that dive into Runs Created and Win Shares.