The cathartic booing of Derek Jeter

The scoreboard flashed the signal for mass booing

Yankee shortstop Derek Jeter announced today that the 2014 season will be his last as a player.

This will no doubt unleash a torrent of weeping and praise from the Yankee-centric media. I mean, even more weeping and praise than usual.

It’s not going to be an easy year.

Someone has to provide balance, and that person is me.

Here’s a tale from the archives about when Will and I went to see the White Sox play the Yankees, and St. Derek got the booing he so richly deserved. And yet, it was a cathartic experience for this long-suffering Mets fan.

So while Tom Verducci starts getting ready for an ocean of soft rain, he’s a story from 2010 to help soften the blow.

You have to realize that since my time covering Mickey Weston, I don’t boo athletes.

Except for two, that is.

Chipper Jones has simply inflicted too much damage on the Mets over the years to go without some sort of recognition, and we can’t exactly cheer him. But Chipper’s been broken down for the past several seasons, and it been a decade since he’s had Met blood on his hands.

The other, of course, is Derek F. Jeter.

Usually this booing occurs in the relative quiet of my home. But Will and I had the rare opportunity to voice our displeasure to Jeter in person on Frank Thomas Day, and this is the final report of that adventurous afternoon.

Chipper earned his boos for doing his job, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jeter, however, is an on-going insult. He’s not just your basic Yankee, Jeter is Mr. Yankee, and truly is reflective of everything that is wrong with the franchise in the Bronx. Over-hyped, over-paid, over-exposed, over-credited and over-privileged.

We all know that the best shortstop on the Yankees is playing third base because it would be unthinkable to ask the Captain to change positions, despite the very obvious fact that Jeter has the range of a fire hydrant.

(Note: Here is another tale from the archives listing players who have more range than Derek Jeter)

Yet there are scribes like Ian O’Connor who give Jeter a complete pass. I can only assume O’Connor Tweeted this with a straight face: “Despite all the sabermetrics, there is a hell of a value in Jeter's ability to turn every ball hit right at him into an out. #yankees”

I pointed out to the brilliant folks at the Crane Pool Forum that a Major League shortstop is supposed to be able to turn every ball hit right to him into an out. 

Several posters noted that, in fact, minor-league shortstops also are expected to field the ones hit right at them.

Upon further thought, I realized that all players at every level are expected to turn routine plays, even people on my champion coed softball team.

Yet, Jeter has apologists like ESPN’s Joe Morgan, who watch him turn a routine six-bouncer into an out, and proclaim nonsense like “Jeter’s so good, he makes that play look routine.”

Witness the reaction to Jeter’s recent incident of shame against the Rays. A pitch came inside, Jeter leaned back and the ball hit the bat, obvious to all. That would be called a strike on most batters. Yet Jeter started carrying on as if he had not only been hit, but that the ball pounded his hand into hamburger. He was awarded first base, and the next batter hit a home run.

Replays indicated that Jeter is better actor than a shortstop. Exposed as a liar and cheat, Jeter told reporters after the game that it’s his job to get on base any way possible. Funny, but I don’t remember Yankee greats like Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mattingly flopping around and calling for the trainer when they wanted to get on first base. Usually they just hit the ball.

But the fawning New York media again gave Jeter a pass, citing his “intangibles.” Imagine how different the reaction would have been had the faker been Carlos Beltran.

Yes, Jeter has five rings. He’s also surrounded in the lineup by at least five All-Stars. Let’s see him take is legendary intangibles to Pittsburgh and take the lowly Pirates to the World Series. That will never happen.

So all of this pent-up angst had built up by the time Jeter stepped into the box against Sox starter Gavin Floyd in the first inning.

Boooooooooooooooooo!

It was a long, heartfelt display that seemed to take the other people in the section by surprise. 

Frankly, I expected more people to join in. Sox fans were more interested in voicing displeasure toward Nick Swisher, a former under-achieving South Sider now over-achieving with the Yanks.

Jeter meekly popped out the right. This was followed by cheers, followed by Cousin Tim’s legendary “O-ver RA-ted, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap” taunt, which generated a far-greater response at Shea in 2008.

This scenario was repeated in the third and fifth innings, and involved Jeter strikeouts. They were swinging strikeouts, of course, since no umpire is bold enough to call Derek Jeter out on strikes.

We were started to get some cranky looks from a group sitting to our right, all clad in ugly Yankee T-shirts. I did not fear them because, like in a libel case, truth is the best defense and deep down all Yankee fans must know that the emperor isn't wearing any pinstripes.

I actually missed Jeter being announced in the eighth inning, and the delayed booing at Will’s prompting resulted in Jeter walking, and then advancing to second on a wild pitch.

Luckily we were afforded one last chance in the top of the ninth, when Derek the Menace strode to the plate with two out.

I let loose with the much-deserved booooooo when the Yankee fans to the right hatched an obviously premeditated defense. They were attempting to drown out my boo with cheers. It was six on one.

I would not, could not, lose this battle.

I produced a deep, dark, loud boooooooooooooo that arose from the depths of my blue-and-orange soul. It was cathartic. Every injustice endured at the hands of Yankee fans and their media fawners seemed to be set loose, released from my heart and through my cupped hands.

Everything from the McKenna Junior High taunts of 1977 and 1978 through the bat-tossing, Timo-jogging fiasco that was the 2000 Subway series and the Castillo pop drop of 2009 had broken loose.

This was, without a doubt, the longest, most resonating booooo I've ever produced. Philadelphia fans strive to create a booo this loud and long. And yet it was purifying all at the same time.

The weak cheers of the T-shirted gang of six were no match for my disgust and suffering. This boo rose from our perch in the upper deck to hover over U.S. Cellular Field like a fog. 

This was a boo intended to envelope Jeter in self-awareness and shame. I was expecting him to return to the Yankee bench, plop down – and see his teammates all slide away, disgusted.

I started to feel pity for Jeter. Deep down, he knows the truth. Hype doesn't outlast history.

I’m confident that all 10,000 of the Frank Thomas bobbleheads handed out that day nodded in agreement.

I easily outlasted the Yankee posers. Cleansed of decades of Yankee hurt, I could have continued into extra innings. And I feel the need to boo him no more.

Baseball Place No. 32: Growden Memorial Park; and Alternative Place No. 32A: Michael Jordan in Fort Lauderdale

One of the coolest caps in my collection is from the Alaska Goldpanners, who count one George Thomas Seaver among their alumni.

It was pretty obscure, snagged before the days of the Internet. I read about the team, tracked down the address, sent a letter and the Goldpanners replied with a mail-order souvenir list and all kinds of neat stuff.

The league attracts college players, and the list of Goldpanners who went on the majors include include Dave Winfield and Barry Bonds.

Josh Pahigian takes us to Growden Memorial Park, where the Goldpanners play, for spot No. 32 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

A college-aged Tom Seaver in his second-coolest uniform.

The team also is famous for its Midnight Sun Game. Fairbanks is just south of the Artic Circle, and on the summer solstice the Goldpanners host a game that starts at 10:30 p.m. and ends after midnight.

And the wildest part? The game is played without lights.

Baseball outdoors at midnight played in broad daylight is pretty unusual. But in 1994 I witnessed something almost as strange. How about the best basketball player ever trying to play baseball?

Alternative place No. 32A: Michael Jordan playing at Fort Lauderdale Stadium

I was disappointed with the photos I took that night. The lighting was rough and the crowd was huge. Jordan didn't exactly play to the fans, either.

Jordan, obviously, was an amazing basketball player. We’ll probably never really know what possessed him to leave the NBA and focus on playing for the Chicago White Sox.

He was invited to spring training in 1994 and naturally attracted crowds wherever he went.

The Sox came across the Florida to play the Yankees in Fort Lauderdale, and Dad and I were able to snag tickets.

It was one of the most unusual spring training games I’ve ever seen. The Yankees, icky as they are, had Don Mattingly, Wade Boggs and Bernie Williams – a future Hall-of-Famer and two stars. Some guy named Jeter was in camp wearing No. 70, according to my program.

But the vast majority of the people in attendance were there to see the guy who had never played in a major league game.

Jordan was cheered as he stretched, as he shagged flies and as he kind of weakly hit balls during batting practice.

To the credit of the Sox and Jordan, the fans got their money's worth. He batted leadoff, and spent seven innings in the field. Nothing spectacular happened at the plate, where he struck out looking once, and hit grounders to second in the other three at-bats.

I was as excited to see Frank Thomas, who had a typical Frank game with two walks, two hits and a strikeout.

The Yankees won 12-7, but people left happy.



Fort Lauderdale Stadium, built in 1962, looked pretty old then. In fact, it looked nicer when we saw the Mets play the Orioles there last month. Must have been the Yankee taint.

Baseball place No. 28: Batcolum; Alternative places No. 28A) Other sculptures dressed to impress

Chicago’s only three hours away. Will lives there. So it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the Windy City.

And I studied art and architecture in college, so I know a lot of the city’s iconic public art.

It’s also safe to say Will and I have explored anything related to baseball in the Second City.

So imagine my surprise when Josh Pahigian directs us to something called “Batcolumn” as his spot No. 28 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

Apparently, at 600 West Madison Street, there is a giant metal sculpture shaped like a bat. He even calls it “the granddaddy of all baseball sculptures,” saying it rises 100 feet and sits in front of the Harold Washington Social Security Administration building.

It was created by Swedish pop artist Claes Oldenburg. He also created a giant hot dog, clothespin, toothbrush and other common items that are commonly small.

No wonder I didn’t know about this thing. You can’t have Euro pop artists creating stuff they don’t understand. It’s as if I tried blogging about soccer.

I prefer Chicago art that, like me, dresses for the occasion when a favored team makes the World Series. That takes us to:

Alternative place No. 28A: Chicago Picasso, Art Institute lions and Grant Park Indian warriors.

Chicago went nuts in 2005 when the White Sox went to the World Series. I was pretty excited, too, as the Sox have always been sort of a secondary favorite since they snatched Tom Seaver.

Will suggested I come over before Game One to soak up some of the atmosphere around Comiskey – what we’ll always call it – take part in some of the general craziness around the Loop then watch the game with friends at a packed sports bar.

We arrived at the ballpark just after a press conference where the Houston and Chicago mayors announced their traditional goofy bet. Staffers were loading a cow painted with White Sox logos into the back of a truck. Others were handing out cool Ozzie Guillen masks.

Many of the souvenir vendors were already open, and we picked up our programs and scouted the assorted caps and pennants that we would no doubt find cheaper elsewhere.The park was abuzz with activity, from special signs being hung on fences to uniforms arriving from the cleaners.

With masks and programs in hand, Will directed me on a downtown tour of Chicago reveling in its first World Series since the Eisenhower administration.

The first stop was massive Indian statues at Grant Park. The horses were decked out in their finest pale hosiery.

Ivan Mestrovic’s warriors, known as “The Spearman” and “The Bowman,” were erected in 1928 at the Congress Plaza entrance to the park.

We checked out “The Bean,” when found the Art Institute of Chicago, where Edward L. Kemeys’ lions that guard the front steps are wearing their Sox caps.

I wondered where exactly where they came up with baseball caps to fit bronze lion statues. I can see how a talented seamstress can whip together a couple socks for the horses. But these hats were plastic and big.

Kemeys gave the Lions unofficial names. The southern one is “Stands in an Attitude of Defiance” and the northern one is “On the Prowl.” Wonder what he named his kids.

The lions have been guarding the Art Institute since 1894, and have been decked out in team attire just twice before -- 1984 for the Cubs and the following year for 'da Bears.

Then we made it over to Daley Center Plaza, where the Chicago Picasso also was wearing a Sox cap. The 50-foot sculpture, erected in 1967, is technically untitled. Should have brought Kemeys over.

The plaza was filled with people attending a Halloween event. We were walking around snapping more photos when two television cameramen saw our Ozzie Guillen masks and asked us to pose in front of the Picasso.

They asked us to jiggle the masks, then pull them away and cheer. They had us to this several times to get the shot just right. We might have been on the Fox pre-game show.

We late caught up with friends and watch the Sox smack down the Astros at an over-crowded sports restaurant. Like the statues, we were wearing our Sox caps.

Is Shea a tough place to play?

Looks like a nice place to me.

The congressional elections aren’t to far off, so that means we get subjected to all kinds of polls. Apparently Sports Illustrated decided to do some polling of its own, asking 415 players what is the toughest stadium to play as a visiting player.

Some of places make sense, some don’t. And of course we have to deal with the typical SI Yankee bias. Here’s the list and some choice comments.

10) Shea Stadium: We knew this was coming. Every couple of days Yankee-lovin’ Sports Illustrated remembers that it hasn’t trashed the Mets and runs something goofy like this: "Did John Rocker have a vote in this survey? The constant roar from airplanes heading in and out of LaGuardia can be a distraction, as can the baseball-crazed fans who have been waiting 20 years for another World Series winner."

First of all, can we stop with the Rocker references? We are so over that. He’s been suspended, he apologized, he started sucking rocks in the majors, minors and independent leagues. Let it go.

As for the rest, sure the airplanes are loud and so are the fans. You got a problem with that?

9) Dolphins Stadium: The Marlins are so desperate to get their own yard that they’ve apparently started paying players to say bad things about they one they rent now. It’s not that bad. There are gripes about the way they’re treated by the guy who owns the stadium, but those shouldn’t affect the players. I’ve actually been in the dugout and clubhouse here, and it seemed kind of nice.

8) U.S. Cellular Field: No doubt about that. Shirtless, tattooed and somewhat drunk South Siders have been known to run out of the stands and attack first-base coaches. But the biggest fear is that some poor fan will get dizzy in the highest reaches of the park’s legendary steep upper deck -- you practically need seatbelts -- tumble out, pick up speed falling past the three -- yes, three! -- levels of luxury boxes and land right on top of a poor rightfielder.

7) AT&T Park: I think confusion is the issue here. They’ve changed the name of the place so many times -- this is the third one in six years -- that they must have to constantly replace the directional signs. And given the speed DOT crews seem to work, they’re probably two name changes behind, making it hard for bus drivers to get to the yard. That’s not counting the confusion in the stands, where they actually cheer Barry Bonds.

6) Metrodome: Can’t argue with this one. Loud, ugly and charmless -- and those are just the Twins uniforms. They stadium’s no treat, either.

5) McAfee Coliseum: It’s a football stadium, and a bad one at that. But it so favors football that I think they actually schedule Raiders games right in the middle of Athletics games. Sure, there’s so much downtime in a football game that it doesn’t affect the A’s much. The problem is that players have a hard time getting back into the dugout because they have to pass through all the glad-handers and hangers-on that fill the sidelines of any given NFL game. Seriously, who are all those people? You don’t see baseball filling the foul areas with assorted friends of the owners, cheerleaders and whomever could pretend to be in the media and wrangle a credential. And I think the head coach can wear a headset without requiring an employee whose sole job is to keep track of the wire.

4) Citizens Bank Park: No freaking kidding. I think the Mets games on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday tell us all we need to know about this horror show. Not that it stopped Jose Reyes. Last year, at this very park, I was openly mocked for voting for Jose on my All-Star ballot. Guess he showed them!

3) Wrigley Field: It must be tough to play there because their players occasionally resort to cheating, corked bats and all. And it’s tough one the fans. I thought one died right in front of me. True story.

2) Fenway: SI’s explanation: "The Red Sox have the best home record (38-18) in the majors this season and have won at least 50 games at home in each of the last three years." Could this be because the team has good players?

1) Yankee Stadium: Here’s what SI says: Among the 415 current major league players surveyed, 83 (21.2 percent) voted Yankee Stadium as the most difficult place to play as a visiting player. The numbers back them up: Since Joe Torre took over as manager in 1996 through 2005, the Yankees are 513-292 (.805) at home in the Bronx, where the fans are close to the field and into the action."

Just Yankee fans being Yankee fans.

Where to start? Forget for a second the notion that when you spend nearly twice as much as everyone else in the league, you’d darn well better be winning a lot of games. That says nothing about the stadium itself.

But I won’t deny that it’s tough for a visiting player.

First, you have to walk through all kinds of vermin getting to the field. Oh, the rats are nasty, too, but I was talking about the fans.

What’s this "close to the action" stuff? That space between home plate and the backstop is so huge it has three Electoral votes. (All of them cast for Jeter in every election, of course) The seats in left are separated from the field by the walkway to The Shine To Over-rated Yankees Of The Past. There’s even enough room there for a walkway and the line of retired numbers. And it’s a long walk because the Skanks retire so many. You know they’re just waiting for Tanyon Sturtze to retire so they can hand ole No. 56 out there with the Scooter and Reggie.

I suppose the players are closer to Yankee fans than anybody in their right mind would want to be without disinfectant. But they’re no closer than in any other yard.

By the way, Alex Rodriguez says the place is the hardest place for home players, too. It’s not his fault, he swears.