Yogi Berra, 1925-2015

   Yogi Berra, while not the last of the great Yankees from the '47-'53 years (when they won six out of seven World Championships) was, in many ways, the most enduring.  True, he didn't have the style of a DiMaggio, the elegance of a Ford or the charisma of a Mantle, but he was unique in a way that none of the others were.  (Hey, wait a minute, that sounds like a Yogi-ism.  Perhaps it's infectious.)
   Lawrence Peter Berra, a Hall of Famer, and truly one of the greatest catchers of all-time, was one of that quiet generation of heroes who (like Ted Williams and numerous others) had their careers interrupted by World War Two.  They put down their bats and balls,  did their part to save the world (and save the world they did), and returned home to make their singular contributions to our National Pastime.
   Unlike the others named above, Yogi was a very approachable and down-to-earth person.  Married to wife Carmen all his life, he was never associated with a breath of scandal on or off the field.  He was the kind of baseball player that set a standard that all too few live up to today.  He never showboated, gloated nor complained; he just played ball, and did so very well.  In addition to his hitting skills, he was a superb defensive catcher and manager of any number of excellent pitchers for whom he called pitches  When he was unceremoniously dismissed as Yankee manager by the late George Steinbrenner, he refused to return to Yankee Stadium until Steinbrenner apologized.  To his credit, Steinbrenner ultimately did, giving the rest of us the pleasure of Yogi's company at many Yankee events.
  An inelegant and homely man, the young Berra was teased about reading comic books as well as his looks.  When an umpire once told Yogi that he had "made the team," Yogi asked for an explanation and was told it was "the All-Ugly team." Yogi's had a practical take on his less than Hollywood appearance:  "So I'm ugly; I never saw anyone hit with his face."  Indeed. But Yogi Berra was not in baseball for his looks, and made no money modeling clothes or appearing in cigarette or beer ads.  In those bygone (and not always halcyon) days of middle-class salaries, and blue-collar ballplayers, Yogi spent the off-season selling suits (with teammate Phil Rizzuto).  His one commercial venture was "Yoo-hoo," a chocolate flavored soft drink that I remember enjoying as a kid.  According to a fellow-blogger who once interviewed Yogi, the great Berra was asked by a caller if Yoo-hoo was hyphenated.  Berra's response was "No ma'am, it's not even carbonated."  Right again, Yogi, it wasn't.
  Though raised in St. Louis (along with fellow catcher--and later baseball announcer, Joe Garagiola) Yogi became synonymous with New York baseball, part of a tradition of excellent Italian-American ballplayers who played an instrumental role in putting the Yankees on the baseball map.   We read a lot about Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mantle, but forget about the Lazerri's, Crosetti's, Rizzuto's and Berra's who never really shared the limelight, but who were the backbone of the teams's successes.  Joe Girardi, a more recent part of that ongoing tradition, was effusive in his praise of Berra.
  If you look at Berra's record, there's nothing that jumps off the page.  With a .285 lifetime  batting average (and an even lower one in the post-season (i.e. World Series, of .274)), Yogi hardly had standout numbers.  What, someone might ask who was not fortunate enough to have seen Berra play, was so special about the man?  Well, for one thing, his three Most Valuable Player awards ties the all-time record.  For another, Yogi has more World Series rings than any player living or dead (10) and--not counting the Yankees-- more than any team in the history of baseball other than the St. Louis Cardinals, which edged him out with their eleventh Series victory in 2011. (His old buddy, Garagiola, would have been proud.)  The next closest team to Yogi (with 8) are the up and down Boston Red Sox, currently fighting to get out of the cellar in the American League East for the second straight year.
  There's one other thing about Berra that defies statistics, because it is so subjective.  That was his ability to hit in the clutch  As a Yankee fan dating back to the late '40's (amazing, inasmuch as I am still quite young--LOL), I cannot think of any other player I would like to see come up in a clutch situation; i.e. when the game is on the line.  It is difficult to measure this special ability to rise to the occasion.  Sometimes announcers point to players who have come up with hits that either tie the game or allow the team to take the lead.  I searched in vain to find something that would substantiate this achievement among the all-timers, but the sabermetric wizards have yet to measure this.  Perhaps it is an ineffable quality, more imagined that substantiated, but that does not minimize the memory of this long-time fan.  When seeking to measure intangibles, there is no one I have read better at quantifying the unquantifiable than baseball historian Bill James.  James rates Yogi as number one among all catchers, all-time.  He is also rated 41st amongst everyone who has ever played the game.  When you consider that being the 41st best player among the 800 Major Leaguers playing the game right now, that would obviously be someone come to being an All-Star, and certainly one commanding an eye-popping salary.  So think of it, Yogi Berra, with a .285 lifetime batting average is ranked number 1 as a catcher, and 41st among everyone who ever played the game!  No less a student of baseball than his long-time manager, Casey Stengel, was once asked the secret of his (Stengel's) success.  The "Old Professor," said, with regards to Berra, "I never play a game without my man."  High praise from one of baseball's most successful managers.
  It is interesting to note that Yogi's sayings, often dismissed as malapropisms, make him better known among non-baseball fans than anyone else.  Without cataloging every saying attributed to Berra (many of which he denied having said), my personal favorites include, "when you come to a fork in the road, take it," and "it's deja vu all over again."  Others that are mocked, actually make sense.  "You can observe a lot by watching;" "Nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded," and (with reference to the deepening shadows in the outfield," "It gets late early here." If I had to pick one, I'd have to go with "90% of baseball is mental, the other half is physical."  Yogi's favorite was said to be "It ain't over till it's over," which is hardly a malapropism at all.  Most great come-from-behind was fall into that category.
  Well, Yogi Berra is gone, and with it, another chunk of our collective youth.  While this final quote won't make it on Yogi's epitaph, it may have been the most prophetic:  "You should always go to other people's funerals; otherwise they won't go to yours."  On that score, Yogi had nothing to worry about.   It will be very well attended, and rightfully so.  Thanks for everything, Yogi.  You were "as good as the game."

Sabr-Metrics: Djokovic beats Federer in 2015 U.S. Open

   The 2015 men's final at the U.S. Open was not a great match.  At 6-4, 5-7, 6-4, 6-4, it was a good win for Novak Djokovic, but something (as at Wimbledon) he was expected to do.  Had Roger Federer won, it would have been a great victory for him.  In fairness, Fed would have had to have played great to beat the world's number one.  After all, he hasn't beaten Djokovic in a Major for some time now, and--to be fair--he is spotting him close to six years in age.  That said, Federer played some great points.
   At one point, in what turned out to be its final game, the match almost became a great one.  After breaking Djokovic who was serving for the title at 5-2, and easily holding serve,  Federer had double-break point against Djokovic.  Nole, as he has done so often, showed himself to be the better come-from-behind player.  He got it back to deuce, only to watch Federer get yet another break point on a superb down the line backhand winner.  He then hunkered down and won the next three points; one on a beautiful forehand that handcuffed Federer at the baseline, and the next two on serves Federer was unable to return.  In the end, and unfortunately for the Federer faithful (of whom there were many), Djokovic played more great points, both offensively and defensively.  That is what must be maddening about playing Djokovic in a best of five-set format.  In order to beat this seemingly inexhaustible man, you must be aware that most of your best shots will be coming back to you, some better than you hit them.  Realizing this, you go for more, and it's either a winner  or  (yet another) unforced error.
   Now Federer--even at the relatively old tennis age of 34--is still head and shoulders above just about everybody else in the world.  Being number two--at any age--ain't too shabby.  It wasn't so long ago (although it seems it) when Novak Djokovic was a distant number three behind Federer and (the now struggling ) Rafael Nadal.  With Nadal's heartbreaking five-set dismissal early on, both Fed and Nole sailed through to the finals.  If anything, it was a tougher trek for Djokovic, having been stretched to four sets in both the round of 16 and the quarters.  But by the time he got to the semis, he dethroned reigning champion Marin Cilic in the most devastating (and one of the quickest) semifinals in U.S. Open history.
   As most of the fans realize, the great Roger Federer may not have too many chances to win his 18th Major title, let alone get to a final.  As such, they must cherish such opportunities, as they will be fewer and farther between as time goes by.  That, of course, didn't prevent them from cheering for their boy at every opportunity.  And don't get me wrong; rooting for your favorite player(s) is one of the great joys of being a spectator.  But many of Federer's fans applauded and cheered on Djokovic errors and even on service faults--something unheard of among tennis fans of yore.  We expect good sportsmanship on the court. Is it unfair to the players to expect any less from their fans?  Djokovic, by the way, is among the few players we see applauding exceptional shots by his opponents.  This is not something I can ever recall Federer (or many others) having done.   Kudos, by the way, to Eve Asdenaki-Moore, the first woman to umpire a men's singles final at the Open, for politely reminding fans not to be impolite. She was also courageous in overturning wrong calls, and wasn't wrong once, surviving virtually every challenge with quiet aplomb.
  Can Djokovic keep it up?  With his appearance in this year's finals, he is one of only three men in the Open era to have been in the final of all four Grand slams in the same year.  (The other two are Rod Laver--who actually won the Grand Slam twice-and, oh yeah, a guy named Roger Federer.)  At 28 and with 10 Major titles to his credit, it is not impossible to imagine Djokovic overtaking Sampras and Nadal tied at 14 , and maybe even Federer.  After all, he'll have 16 shots at it between now and age 32, so it's not too far-fetched to envision him making significant inroads toward the record. Just a couple of years ago, it seemed inevitable that Rafael Nadal would overtake Federer in total Majors won.  Rafa is now "stuck" at 14.  So imagine, if you can, it is 2019, or 2020. There's an aging Novak Djokovic, a few gray hairs poking through his black hedge, being cheered on by an adoring crowd, hoping the old Serb can rise to the occasion one more time and break Federer's record.  And who among us can honestly say that this superb athlete and competitive gentleman won't deserve his (long overdue) day in the sun (albeit possibly under a retractible roof)?
   At one point in the match, when Federer (or was it Djokovic?) went for broke on a shot which sailed wide, John McEnroe (or was it Patrick?) exclaimed "When you live by the sword, you die by the sword." To sustain the fencing metaphor enriched by Djokovic having once again "foiled" Federer in a Major, I suppose I can be forgiven for observing the following: Roger's vaunted Sabr ("Sneak Attack By Roger") gave way to Nole's Epee ("Excellent Performance, Exceptional Endurance").

U.S. Open 2015

   As Yogi was said to have said, "it's deja vu" all over again." Federer v. Djokovic will be meeting in the men's final.  In my most recent blog, I entitled the match between those two tennis legends at Wimbledon, "The Last Hurrah."  I may have spoken prematurely, as here is the rejuvenated Roger Federer back at another Grand Slam final against his old new foe, Novak Djokovic.
   In what has become tennis's new greatest rivalry, these two all-time greats are 21-20, Federer, over their many meetings.  While this gives Roger the slight edge, Djokovic has been overwhelmingly successful in their meetings at the big four Grand Slam tournaments, formally known as "majors."  In yesterday's semi-finals, to have watched Djokovic dispatch last year's Open champ Marin Cilic in under an hour and a half in three virtually uncontested straight sets, only to see Federer do much of the same to reigning French Open champion, Stan Wawrinka, was surprising less in the result than in the dominating way in which it happened.  So now we have the number two seed challenging the number one seed.  While Djokovic, already the Australian and Wimbledon champion, is the favorite, Federer did beat him in straight sets at their last outing, the pre-Open warm-up in Cincinnati.  Whether he can do so in a three out of five set format remains to be seen.  If he can, it would be an enormous achievement for Federer, who hasn't won a major since 2012, nor a U.S. Open since 2006.  If Federer were to win, he would add an 18th victory to his already staggering 17 major championships. Djokovic has only been a U.S. Open winner once in five tries, so this match is significant for him as well.  If he wins, it would be his 10th Grand Slam victory, and firmly cement him as one of the greatest players ever to hold a racquet. Among active players, this exalted category certainly not only includes, but is dominated by,  Federer, and Rafael Nadal, a 14-slam winner, currently in a puzzling eclipse.
   At Cincinnati, Federer unveiled a new shot in his already impressive repertoire.  This, a variant on the old "chip and charge" service return, has him rushing net on the second serve and half-volleying the service from the service line.  Although a risky and unsettling maneuver, it got him to the championship in the Cincinnati Open, a championship that has, oddly, evaded Djokovic.
   Lost amidst this legendary rivalry was the seemingly inevitable march by Serena Williams to her own Grand Slam, which would have made her only the fourth women in the history of tennis to do so.  Although to me, she is clearly the best women's tennis player of all time, achieving the Grand Slam has eluded her.  Only Maureen "Little Mo" Connelly, Margaret Court, and Steffi Graf have ever done it.  While we'll never know if Monica Seles would have made that list, she clearly seemed on the road to doing so, when a madman (ironically in misguided service to Seffi Graf) knifed her in the shoulder. This act of terrorism effectively ended Seles's championship run, if not her her career.  Indeed, one has to wonder if Steffi would have ever won a Grand Slam had not fate intervened in such a cruel and cowardly way.
   The great, and seemingly indomitable Serena Williams (amazingly but one of the two greatest sisters to ever play the game) had just, at Wimbledon, won her fourth consecutive major for the second time. This extraordinary accomplishment, dubbed (by her) the "Serena Slam" resulted in the Grand Slam suddenly being dubbed the "Calendar Grand Slam."  While winning four consecutive majors is no mean feat, it is not a "Grand Slam," an achievement which shouldn't be diminished by renaming it "The Calendar" Grand Slam.  The Grand Slam is simply what is is: winning all four majors in a, yes, calendar, year.  More, however, was on the line for Serena.  When she entered the semi-finals against the plucky Italian Roberta Vinci, unseeded, and ranked 43rd in the world, she had three incredibly records in front of her.  Not only was she two matches from the Grand Slam, but two matches from 33 straight victories at the Majors and 22 Major championships, records both held by the legendary Steffi Graf.  None of this, however was to be.
  After winning the first set handily, Serena found herself in a dual battle: one was against an increasingly crafty and able opponent, and the other against herself.  Serena repeatedly had said that (a) the Grand Slam was not a major focus of hers, and (b) she never battles nerves.  Really?  If so, that would make her unique among tennis players.  Ignoring the advent of a Grand Slam is like a pitcher being unaware of a no-hitter.  Trust me; that never happens.  What is so amazing about Serena is how tough she is mentally; a factor, when combined with her superlative skills, makes her almost indomitable.  The emphasis, is, of course, on "almost." That Vinci may have (in Serena's words) played "out of her mind," was hardly the case.  Rarely have I seen a player play smarter, more effective tennis.  Vinci had an old-fashioned game.  Not only did she hit exclusively one-handled backhands, but they were all slices.  As a skilled doubles player, she did not hesitate to come to net, and utilized the lob most effectively. For someone who thrives on pace, Serena received it only sparingly from the Italian.  Did Vinci play a great match?  Sure; she would have had to.  But Serena played well, too.  While she seemed a bit tentative (for her) on her ground strokes, this may have been in response to Vinci's relentless counter-punches as masterful court coverage.
   The turning point in the match, in my opinion, came in the third set in what has often been referred to as the "all-important seventh game."  In this case, it was.  In a back and forth service game by Serena, she had a game point against Vinci.  What followed was terrific rally, capped by what seemed to be a forehand winner by the American, pulling the Italian so far off the court that her return gave Serena an open court to hit to.  Williams did so, but not at a sharp enough angle and Vinci sliced a sinking backhand into the deuce court corner.  This set up a crosscourt forehand drive off of which Vinci amazingly hit a lunging drop volley.  Serena ran with all her might in a vain attempt to reach the ball.  She appeared drained, both physically and mentally.  From that moment on, she never led in the concluding set.  She had simply been outplayed in what had to go down as one of the most stunning upsets in tennis history.  In the end, Serena was simply human, and not invincible.  Roberta turned out to be nothing if not "inVinci-able."  Whether she can sustain such greatness in her Final against (equally unseeded) countrywoman Flavia Penetta, remains to be seen.
    In fairness to Serena, the hype that had accompanied her historic run was a bit much for anyone to endure.  The press coverage made it seem, prematurely, like a coronation.  As a human being, she had to downplay the importance of something being heralded as monumental.  She was, for example,  the subject of a laudatory cover story in the New York Times Magazine, that made even her excesses seem as positive parts of a court presence that shouldn't be bound by the constraints expected as others.  That the Williams sisters have faced racism on and off the court is beyond dispute.  This is particularly sad since, Jehovah's Witnesses are noted for their racial tolerance.  But the Williams's sisters story transcends race.  It is a uniquely American story, and should be celebrated as such.   The Time's Magazine article's thrust was "go girl; when you win, I win!"  I am not unmindful of the inspiration that Serena's achievements has given black girls and women everywhere, but this was a tennis tournament, not Louis vs. Schmeling or the 1936 Olympics.
   The news coverage of her defeat in the Times was not only first page, but multi-page news.  Will it diminish her achievements on the tennis court, both as a player and a black woman?  It shouldn't.  Even at the relatively advanced age of 33 (Vinci is herself 32), Serena has plenty of great tennis ahead of her.  Was this her best chance at a Grand Slam?  Probably so, but it is an achievement that has eluded some of the greatest players on the game; King, Navratilova, Evert, and. lest we forget, Venus Williams.  On the men's side, very few have even won three of the four, with only Don Budge, and the immortal Rod Laver (who did it twice) winning Grand Slams.
   So don't mourn Serena's loss.  Her place in tennis--and civil rights--history is firmly entrenched.  She was responsible for this being the first women's final to ever outsell the men's.  Feel bad for the people who paid as much as $1,500 for a ticket to what they had hoped to be a Serena final and to be a witness to history.  Tickets are now down to a more earthy $250, and there will, unfortunately, be many empty sets at today's all-Italian women's final, whose combined age is 65!  But that, of course, is both tennis and life.  It's the fact that there's no such thing as a sure thing is what keeps us watching.  In truth, upsets are one of the most exciting things in sports.  Surely this one was, and, after all, that's what many people will be rooting for in the men's final tomorrow.  Stay tuned.