Tuesday 14 October 2014

Where Have You Gone, Derek Jeter?


            I love Derek Jeter! A bracing thought first thing in the morning! But what can I tell you – even for a Mets fan there’s just something about this guy.

            And it’s not that I was seduced by his leaping catches and double play pivots either, for I had already given my heart to Keith Hernandez, and Doc Gooden - not to mention that my first cousin, Charlie Kerfeld, was a relief pitcher for the Astros.

            “C’mon now,” says Your Man up in Pearl River, “That’s a tall tale.”

            I swear to God! My Aunt Margy Kirwan, while a nurse in London during the Blitz, married US Air Force Sgt. Jerry Kerfeld, and Charlie was born in Knob Noster, Missouri. Life is, indeed, stranger than fiction.

            But back to my man crush on Derek! What I really like about that damned Yankee is his coolness and unflappability even when struck out in a disputed call. He doesn’t indulge in the usual histrionics, but merely raises one eyebrow an infinitesimal degree so that the umpire understand the real reason for the bad call is that his smitten wife burns his toast every time the handsome shortstop’s name is mentioned.

            Jeter never thanks Jesus either or points heavenwards when he hits a triple; no, Mr. Wonderful is supremely confident because of his natural ability, diligent training, and the long hard hours he puts in chatting up beautiful women.

            Speaking of which, a friend who claims to know about such things, once related that Derek has dated more women than Pete Rose had hits, but none feel aggrieved when given the pink slip for he shows them every courtesy during the courtship. Of course this could be another urban legend or more likely wishful thinking on my friend’s part.

            Despite all this well-earned adulation I have one question for the Yankees’ shortstop. Do you have any idea that baseball’s huge salaries are killing America’s pastime? Now I wouldn’t even bring this matter up to the like of Roger Clements. Steroids or not, I never liked that bully – even before he flung a broken bat at the saintliest of Mets, Mike Piazza.

            But you’re a very smart man, Derek, and you have to see the change in baseball’s demographics since your rookie years. What family can afford the price of tickets to a major league ballpark any more? I’ll tell you who can’t– the 47% that Mitt Romney wrote off a couple of years back. Even with reasonable seats it could cost a family of four $300 for a baseball outing nowadays.

            Look around you at Yankee Stadium, man! Where are the working or lower-middle class kids who made baseball the great American game? And why do you think so many Yankee fans bolt around the 7th inning if the pinstripes are not leading? They’re not invested in the game or the team anymore – only in the expensive spectacle.

            So, Derek, why don’t you use your undoubted influence to persuade baseball owners to subsidize tickets for working poor families? Or even give away empty seats on a slack night. Yeah, I know that might affect the immediate market. But think long term: baseball is taking a beating. Basketball has replaced it for African-Americans and an increasing number of major league players are from the Caribbean or South America.

            Why do you think that is? Because “south of the border” you don’t need to float a Wall Street bond to take your family out to a ball park. It’s still a national pastime in those countries, and I won’t even get into how much it costs to see a game in Cuba.

            No one begrudges you your big salary, Derek; it’s just that I know you’re a thoughtful man who could make a difference. You’re a class act and have been an important role model to generations of children.

Thanks for all the years. It’s been a treat to watch you turn those double plays while barely raising your eyebrow to offending umpires. Mets or no Mets, come next April I’ll be singing:

            “Where have you gone, Derek Jeter, oh?
            A nation turns its lonely eyes to you

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