Epic Yankees Flameout Seasons! Episode Eight!

Like the secondary Bond villain, or that last science-fiction monster that you know is still lurking out there, it’s back!  Epic Yankees Flameout Seasons, Episode Eight!

This will, I promise, be the last one of the year…until we get around to assessing this dubious season, anyway.  But what a doozy!

Yankees 79-83, 5^th in a seven-team division.

Yes! It’s the notorious ‘Speed Team” of 1982!  The memory of which still sends chills down the spines of so many of us who were permanently scarred by its appearance.

This was the only Yankees team between 1973 and 1989—the beginning of the Plague Years—to finish with a losing record.  It came within a single game of finishing tied for last in a tough AL East, 16 games behind the Milwaukee Brewers.

It was, as well, the last time before this season that a Yankees team so completely disappointed expectations.  But as usual, we can learn so much from history about today.

Background:

Basically, an imperious egomaniac who had complete control of the team seized upon a ridiculous new theory of how the Yankees should play ball, and no one could talk him out of it.  (Hmm, that does sound familiar.)

The individual we’re talking about, of course, was George Steinbrenner, and he was about to embark on the period of his most destructive insanity.

The Madness of King George had begun the year before, when he insisted on trying to win the World Series while playing one of the greatest clutch hitters of all time, Reggie Jackson, as little as possible.  The Yanks collapsed, blew a 2-0 lead in games, and Steinbrenner got into a humiliating elevator brawl in L.A., then apologized to the entire City of New York, on behalf of his team.

This was not uncommon, end-of-the-year behavior for the Mad King, before or after, but this time he had a theory of how to make things better—always a bad idea.

The Yankees, George decided, were much too slow and placid.  He would build a “Speed Team” based on the success that teams in places such as Kansas City, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and Houston were having, because that was obviously the future of the sport.

Somehow, it had eluded George that those teams were playing all their home games on a carpet, while the Yankees played on real grass.  Of course, many of George’s “baseball people,” in Florida and New York, pointed this out to him, but this was already the era in which the Mad King was busy chasing them away to win pennants and World Series in many other cities.

Nothing would do but that the Yanks signed or traded for the likes of Ken Griffey, Sr. and Dave Collins, while letting Reggie go off to free agency.  The Yankees, it was decided, were now going to run, run, run!

What happened:

Well, not much running, after all that.  The Yanks stole all of 69 bases, good for just 9^th in the AL, and were caught 45 times.  At the same time, the team proved very poor at catching the ball, finishing 10^th in the league in errors, and 9^th in fielding percentage.

What’s more, as spring training began to show just what a miserable offense this would provide, George as usual hedged his bets, and started scrambling to acquire power bats. 

Set-up man Ron Davis and minor-league shortstop Greg Gagne were sent to Minnesota for Roy Smalley, an awful clutch hitter and someone who had all the range and arm strength of a granite post at short. 

This didn’t help much, and so a seemingly endless succession of other has-beens and washouts were brought in to provide the missing home runs (this does sound familiar):  John Mayberry, Lee Mazzilli, Butch Hobson.  At the same time, the Yankees had accumulated a stunning number of guys who had either passed their expiration date, or chose 1982 to have their worst seasons in New York:  Graig Nettles, Bucky Dent, Rick Cerone, Barry Foote, Dave Revering—even Bobby Murcer.

Other stars to be—Don Mattingly, Steve Balboni—just weren’t quite there yet, George backed out of what would have been a great deal for Al Oliver at the last minute, and the commissioner canceled a great one for slugging first baseman Jason Thompson, because he hated us.

At the same time, the pitching began to breakdown precipitously.  Guidry had his first mediocre year, Dave Righetti—after being Rookie of the Year in 1981—had such an awful start that he was sent back down to Triple-A for awhile, Mike Morgan got off to a good start but then flopped, and Roger Erickson was just bad.

Panicking when he saw how bad the pitching looked, too, George at the last minute rushed out Gene Nelson—considered a can’t miss, future star with a reported command of five pitches—to obtain Seattle reliever Shane Rawley, who was to be converted to a starter; and reacquired Doyle Alexander, in part for relief pitcher Andy McGaffigan.

The usual suspects in the media gushed on cue about how well the Yankees had done in picking up so many stars for their young players.  And…both men flopped on cue, Alexander going 1-7 with a 6.08 ERA before hitting the DL, while Rawley was 11-10, 4.06.

The season was a disaster from literally Day 1, which was snowed out.  The Yankees played an Easter Sunday doubleheader instead, in which Guidry lost a 4-1 lead in the opener, the Yanks rallied to tie, and Goose Gossage surrendered the losing run in the 12^th.  In the second game, they grounded into three double-plays and lost, 2-0.

So it went.  It would be hard to say there was even a highlight in this woeful season—unless you count April 27^th, when Reggie made his return to New York in a rain-shortened, 7-inning game, and homered off Guidry—one of 39 he would hit, to tie for the AL lead. 

Louisiana Lightning quietly applauded him in this glove, while the crowd of over 35,000—I was among them—leapt to our feet and chanted, “Reg-gie!  Reg-gie”—followed quickly by a new chant:

“Steinbrenner sucks!  Steinbrenner sucks!”

Poor Bob Lemon, still dazed after the premature death of his son the year before, was forced out after just 14 games, with a 6-8 record.  Gene Michael, whom George had just fired the season before, was pressed back into duty on the bench, but little improved.

The season’s nadir came on August 3^rd, with a big, rowdy crowd of over 34,000 sitting through numerous rain delays—it seemed to rain A LOT that year—for a twi-night doubleheader, once again versus the White Sox.  I was, again, one of the poor slobs on hand. 

Shane Rawley, who was one of the fans’ main whipping boys all year long, gave up just one run, but lost the opener, 1-0.  This did not make people happy.  The second game turned into a rout, eventually ending, 14-2.  By late in the game the crowd was thoroughly drunk and completely abusive. 

Their main target, for some reason, was poor Ken Griffey, who was a fine, well-rounded ballplayer throughout his time in New York, but who the fans went after more vociferously that season than I have ever heard them get on any other ballplayer.

Before it was all over, Steinbrenner actually made Bob Sheppard, the revered “Voice of the Yankees” go on the PA and apologize to the fans, while promising us a free ticket to make up for the night’s debacle.  Most of us responded with more rousing choruses of “Steinbrenner sucks!”

After the game, the team’s record was just 50-50, and Stick was fired, replaced by Clyde King.  But things only got worse.  After early June, the team never did rise above 4^th place.

Bright spots:

Few and far between.

Willie Randolph was his usual, steady self at second. Jerry Mumphrey, whom George had also tried to bury on the bench in the 1981 Series, hit .300, with 10 triples.  Between them, Griffey and Collins DID account for one-third of the team’s stolen bases, though neither really had a good year.  Butch Wynegar came over from the Twins and played well at catcher, while Sweet Lou Piniella, now 38, hit .307.

Gossage had another 30 saves in the pen, while Tommy John generally pitched well and got himself traded to California down the stretch.  There, he and Reggie would’ve made the World Series, if they had not had Gene Mauch for a manager.

The best season of all was had by Dave Winfield, who had 106 RBI and 37 homers—the most hit by a righthanded Yankee since Joe DiMaggio.  It was an impressive performance in a Yankees Stadium that was still built against righty hitters (though not as extreme as in Joe D.’s time). 

Winfield also played his usual, outstanding game in the field, with 16 assists, but it mattered little.  Yankees fans who had not forgiven him for his World Series flop the year before—or his record-breaking salary—booed him mercilessly.

What happened next:

Well, it was the end of the Speed Team.  And…the return of Billy Martin, back from Oakland.  Billy, as usual, got the club into contention again—and, as usual, almost as quickly wore out his welcome.  He got himself fired after a 91-71 season fizzled in September.

More important was the continuing exodus of top baseball front office talent from the Yankees, and the continuing discard of good young arms before, during, and just after the 1982 season.

Davis, Nelson, McGaffigan, Morgan, Jay Howell—none of these guys ever attained the true stardom forecast for them.  But they ended up putting together some excellent years as middle or late relievers (and in Morgan’s case, a mid-rotation starter).  Throughout the rest of the decade, the Yankees would fall short again and again because they missed exactly that sort of depth in their staff—a failing that would be duplicated nearly 20 years later, from 2001-2008.