Blink, and 25 years go by.
Upon hearing the news, George Steinbrenner cried. They broke into network programming to announce it. Cardinal John O'Connor gave the eulogy. Richard Nixon attended. Thousands stood in the rain outside St. Patrick's Cathedral, unable to get to get in. They buried him in Hawthorne, NY, about 150 feet from the grave of Babe Ruth. And they inscribed his love for the Yankees into stone.
He never lived to see Marino Rivera or Derek Jeter. He wasn't around to see Yankee Stadium razed or his enshrinement in the new version. I wonder what he would have thought of A-Rod, though I guess he had his own version.
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He brought a toughness and swagger to the Bronx.
And it's only one day since NoMaas did the same: http://nomaas.org/2014/12/we-did-it-our-way/
In 1961 Billy was being moved around like a hot potato. At that point, he'd been unloaded on the Minnesota Twins, I think. Even as a youngster I was aware that he'd been the spark plug of some great teams (yeah, even a little kid caught up in Maris's big year could look back with a genuine appreciation of the legacy that had spawned the M&M boys). I distinctly remember being disappointed that I had never seen him play in pinstripes. What a thrill when he came back to the Yankees to manage! Made up for the fact that at age 6 I was oblivious to the 1956 Yankees,and utterly missed that great Triple Crown year unfolding. (Didn't discover the Yankees until the 1958 World Series). Billy, horribly flawed as he was, was still adored by more than one generation. That's pretty good.
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