Tough season in Yankeeland. We lost long time Public Address announcer Bob Sheppard- the Voice of God who only happened to introduce every Yankee Great (and not so great) from the Mantle/DiMaggio era through the Jeter days. Immediately following Mr. Sheppard, George M. Steinbrenner III - he who's made all of this possible - passed away as well. For good measure, a few weeks later Ralph Houk, immortalized by the dude who played D-Day in Animal House in 61* also died. After the extravagant memorials and remembrances for Sheppard and the Boss, the Yanks really had no choice but to throw a black armband on the sleeve for Houk. (But where was the love for Oscar Azocar?)
And just this week, while the pinstripes are trying to figure out how to hit Cliff Lee (or hit anything for that matter) as their World Series title defense is about to come to an untimely end if things don't turn around quickly, we learn of the passing of Freddy Schuman, better known across Yankees Universe (and anyone that's ever seen the "Jump Around" video) as "Freddy Sez".
Each death impacted the franchise and fans in it's own way. None was easier to absorb than any other (OK, sorry, I can't keep pretending Houk's was the equivalent of the other men, armband or no armband). But there's something about Freddy's passing that touched me, and many others.
We heard Sheppard. His voice was comforting. It brought us back to our earliest visits to The Stadium, a stadium that doesn't exist anymore.
We appreciated Steinbrenner. Depending on your age, you either marveled at his transformation from tyrant to patriarch, or you've only known him as the latter.
But we knew Freddy. Everybody's got a story about "banging Freddy's pan", meeting Freddy in the upper deck, taking a picture with him, or countless other types of memories. I myself have more than I can count at the moment. Freddy was us. Devoted. Knowledgeable. Determined.
It's no secret that over past decade and a half, the Yankees have grown into a global empire: a corporate beast that prints money and fields a competitive, championship caliber team year in and year out. For the most part, we accept it and we like it. If you're over 30 years old, you remember a much bleaker time - the Stump Merrill Days of Andy Hawkins and Wayne Tolleson and a whole bunch of mismatched parts fighting to win 70 games. You much prefer the Empire.
The trade-off though lies in what we sacrifice. The Old Stadium, where in 1996, you could drive up the day of the game and purchase a Main Outfield seat for $18 has been replaced by an extravagant, magnificent Taj Mahal across the street, where $18 doesn't even get you a parking spot six blocks away. Unless you're doing extremely well for yourself, you're not sitting too close to the action. More than likely, you need a Sherpa to bring you to your seats. A generation of kids from working class families have no shot to watch batting practice and collect autographs, as I did from the likes of Joel Skinner and Mike Pagliarulo. (And David Cone but jeez, looking back I was probably too old to be doing that).
I love the new Stadium. It's fascinating. I think it's an architectural achievement. I think it does a fantastic job blending tradition and modernity. I think it's a welcome escape from the 15 or so new ballparks with generic green walls and seats that tried to replicate Camden Yards and in the process made the retro-park a more aesthetically pleasing version of the 70's dual-use cookie cutter. But it's not my stadium. This stadium, and all that it offers, belongs to the fat cats.
And that's why Freddy was so important in these first two seasons of the new joint. Freddy was ours. Our spiritual leader. Our icon. Our memories. Most of all, he knew no income limitations. As Freddy himself said on his own website, "The first three innings I start in the Upper Deck because the fans are so enthusiastic up there."
For Game 3 of the 2010 American League Championship Series - the first home game since Freddy passed away, the Yankees honored him by displaying his pan & spoon, and observing a moment of silence before the first pitch. True class from an organization that is rarely anything but. However, the franchise should take it one step further. Freddy "Sez" Schuman should be honored with a plaque in Monument Park, as a tribute to not only his devotion and loyalty, but as a tribute to all Yankee fans, whom without our financial support and emotional investment, the Yankees would not exist. George Steinbrenner himself had said so on many occasions.
Make no mistake: It doesn't cheapen the legacy of any of the great men in Monument Park if the Yankees do right by Mr. Schuman and dedicate a plaque to him. Aside from the men who have taken the field in pinstripes, there are dedications to Mr. Sheppard, Steinbrenner, owner Jacob Rupert, and broadcaster Mel Allen.
On top of that, three Popes who have said Mass at all three incarnations of The Stadium are memorialized.
What's one more Spiritual Leader?
The Legacy of "Freddy Sez" should die with this current generation of fans. If the Yankees can sell a #4 T-Shirt with "S.Carter" on the back to commemorate a recent Jay-Z concert, surely they can find room in their cherished legacy to represent their greatest fan of all time.
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