Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Posted by el duque at 8:37 AM
This year, though, the croaking caterpillar has become a music-fluttering butterfly.
Last night, in the fourth, with his team leading by 10, John resembled a songbird on the first dawn of spring. At one point, he launched into "Oh-Me-Oh-My-Oh," an obscure ditty about Ohio, and when Suzyn asked why he was singing, he had so answer. This was godforsaken Texas - 100-degree, bug-infested, gun-nut Texas. This had no connection to Ohio. He had just burst into song spontaneously, like Elvis with Ann-Margret.
If you're not listening to games, you're missing the happiest man alive, and - for now anyway - the most joyous aspect of this Yankee resurgence.
For years now, we've called John "The Master," a title befitting his loquaciousness, his ego and - most of all - his love for the Yankees. But yesterday, we learned that John had been captain of his WMCA Radio softball team during the 1970s. This puts a new perspective on the man.
From now on, considering the Yankee void, instead of "The Master," should we call him "The Captain?"