Those were the days Bronx Zoo set standard for spring training melodrama
In recent years, one of the annual rites of spring for the New York media has been to proclaim the return of The Bronx Zoo. This year, Mariano Rivera's expiring contract, the absence of Bernie Williams, and the Alex Rodriguez-Derek Jeter affair have prompted New York writers to invoke the name of the old Zoo. You can hardly blame them.
As David Falkner noted in his fine book about spring training, The Short Season, "There is probably no other single body of prose in the English language in which writers seem quite so hard-pressed to come up with something, anything, than the collected newspaper accounts of spring training over the last half century."
We all know the standard spring training stories: the promising rookie, the aging veteran, the holdout, the wacky clubhouse prankster, the late-arriving star. The wilder the story, the better. In 1985, SI published the remarkable tale about uber-phenom Sidd Finch, a pitcher whose fastball was clocked at 168 mph -- wait, no, that actually was too good to be true. But four years later, Jim Abbott, a one-handed pitcher for the Angels, made a splash in the Cactus League. It seemed stranger than fiction, yet Abbott went on to enjoy a productive career. In '86, veteran reliever Rollie Fingers walked away from a chance to extend his career with the Reds when he refused to lose his trademark mustache. "I'm not about to shave it off just to play baseball," he said. Then in 2002, outfielder Derek Bell chafed at the prospect of having to compete for a position with the Pirates (even after hitting only .173 the year before).
"If there is competition, they better eliminate me out of the race and go ahead and do what they're going to do with me," Bell told reporters. "I ain't going out there to hurt myself in spring training battling for a job. If it is [a competition], then I'm going into 'Operation Shutdown.'" Bell's big league career was shut down before the end of the spring.
But this is tame stuff when compared with the glory days of The Bronx Zoo, which began in earnest in 1977 and ran in full-force through the early '90s. Despite the intense media coverage the Yankees generate nowadays, The Bronx Zoo is a thing of the past. The reason is simple: The maestro of mayhem, George Steinbrenner, is no longer visibly running the show. The last true gem he offered was in '99 when he called pitcher Hideki Irabu a "fat, pussy toad." Without the Boss, well, it just ain't the same.
"Spring training is like opening night in the theater," Steinbrenner once said. "There is nothing like it, nothing!" The Boss was famous for guaranteeing his manager's job security during the spring. In 1982, he said, "Bob Lemon's going to be our manager all year. You can bet on it." Lemon was fired after 14 games. In '85, Steinbrenner said, "Yogi [Berra] wil be the manager this year ... A bad start will not affect Yogi's status." The Yankees started the season 6-10 and Berra was canned. In '90, the Boss said, "Bucky Dent will be the manager all year. I'm very strong on loyalties." After 49 games, Dent was history.
The arrival of Reggie Jackson in 1977 is what really kicked-off the Bronx Zoo. Jackson was the owner's pet, flamboyant and outspoken. "I didn't come to New York to be a star," he said after signing, "I brought my star with me." But Jackson was not welcomed with open arms in the clubhouse. Team captain Thurman Munson was instantly envious of Jackson, as was manager Billy Martin. That spring, Jackson sat down with Robert Ward, a writer from Sport magazine, and made the infamous comment that he was "the straw that stirs the drink." Though the article was not published until months later, it accurately portrayed a spring training camp full of drama.
But even in Steinbrenner's first season with the team, there was commotion. In a scene directly out of The Ice Storm, pitchers Fritz Peterson and Mike Kekich, the best of friends, announced that they were not only swapping wives, but entirely families too, right on down to their dogs. Said Yankees GM Lee McPhail, "We may have to call off Family Day."
Perhaps the most bizzare Steinbrenner spring came in 1982 when he decided to transform the Bronx Bombers into the Bronx Burners. "You can't underestimate the importance of speed," said Steinbrenner. After losing the '81 World Series to the Dodgers, Jackson was allowed to walk as a free agent, and Davey Collins was signed ostensibly to replace him. Harrison Dillard, a former Olympic hurdling champion, was brought into camp to teach the Yankees how to run. One day, the team was instructed to wear sweat suits instead of their uniforms and ran sprints in the outfield as Dillard took notes. Steinbrenner had run hurdles in college, prompting third baseman Graig Nettles to say, "They must have used ankle-high hurdles in those days." The speed experiment failed and the Yankees ended the season with their worst record since 1967.
As wild as Yankee springs in the past have been, they are not alone. From the mid-'80s through the early '90s, the Mets were the glamour team in New York and no strangers to controversy. In 1989, the tension between right fielder Darryl Strawberry and first baseman Keith Hernandez reached a boiling point. Dubbed "The Prince of Darkness" by Daily News columnist Mike Lupica, Hernandez had lobbied, off-the-record, for teammate Kevin McReynolds to win the 1988 NL MVP over Strawberry (Kirk Gibson won the award). When a reporter revealed this to Strawberry the following spring, the right fielder was primed for a confrontation. During the taking of the team photo, Strawberry -- who was positioned next to Hernandez -- said, "I don't want to sit next to no backstabber." Hernandez replied, "I'm tired of your baby crap." The two then exchanged punches in full view of TV cameras. Steve Wulf quipped in SI that Strawberry "finally hit the cut off man."
But the most vicious spring training fight came in '77. The Rangers made headlines when mild-mannered second baseman Lenny Randle attacked his manager, Frank Lucchesi, after being replaced by the rookie Bump Wills. Randle had never shown any signs of having a temper. He practiced yoga, was always accomodating with the fans and was the most popular player in the Rangers clubhouse. But when Lucchesi called Randle a punk for not handling the demotion well, Randle freaked and punched Lucchesi in the face repeatedly, shattering the manager's cheekbone. The Rangers suspended Randle for 30 days, fined him $10,000 and by the end of April, traded him to the Mets. Lucchesi, fired by Texas before the end of the season, sued Randle.
"It's not that I want a pound of flesh," Lucchesi said, "I want 175 pounds of justice." A year later, the two settled out of court and shook hands. "I hope he has 10 years of good luck in the big leagues," said Lucchesi. Randle played in the big leagues through '82, and then in Japan before retiring and trying his hand at stand-up comedy
