Mantle's retirement was the impetus for a bit of tomfoolery about Frank Crosetti, the moneybags man of the Yankees. I didn't get into it in this column, but Crosetti was, in many ways, the personification of the Yankees misanthropic attitude toward outsiders. Crosetti was the keeper of the baseballs during batting and fielding practice, making sure that interlopers didn't pilfer any or that the players didn't secrete them off to friends. The players needled him about this. This was funny. I didn't find so funny Crosetti's role as a snitch, warning players about talking to certain writers. The irony of this is that Crosetti, who would never talk to the press when he was the Yankee coach, later protested the unfairness of players of his generation being shut out of the pension process. And he became ever available to reporters. March 18: Crosetti's Old No. 2 Comes Back to Play When Mickey Mantle finally took the big step of announcing his retirement, one of the Yankees' first responses was the announcement they would retire his number. Mantle's No. 7 was added to the ranks of hallowed Yankee numbers which will never grace pin-striped gray flannel again. Mantle's No. 7 will join Babe Ruth's No. 3, Lou Gehrig's No. 4, and Joe DiMaggio's No. 5 in mothballs. For years there was a joke around Yahkee Sadium that another number in addition to the Big Three had been retired. It was the No. 2 on coach Frank Corsetti's back. No. 2 had been worn for so long by Crosetti-more than 30 years-that for all intents and purposes, it, too, had been retired.
Now the big little-known news of the spring at the Yanks' Ford Lauderdale quarters is that No. 2 has been unretired. With Crosetti having gone on to coach the new Seattle Pilots team, No. 2 became available. This presented the Yankees with one of those major front-office decisions. After all, No. 2 was not a number to be taken lightly. No man earned as many World Series paychecks as Crosetti. Once, when Whitey Ford took his son around the clubhouse introducting him toYankee players, Ford said, "And this is Mr. Crosetti. Take a good look at him, son, because some day you'll see his picture on your daddy's money." Should the Yankees retire No. 2 out of respect for Crosetti? Should it be kept in retirement for a few years, also out of respect for Crosetti? Or should it be passed on to some hot prospect as an incentive for him to earn as many World Series checks as Crosetti? General manager Lee MacPhail said, "It's ridiculous to retire all those numbers. Baseball is a game which ought to have low numbers. People identify with the low numbers, and I think it's time we tried to get as many low numbers on our players' backs as possible." The Yankees put not only No. 2, but Bobby Richardson's No. 1 back in circulation. No. 1 had been unused since Richardson's departure out of deference to Bobby, a good little ball player, though no Hall of Famer. At the Yankees' big number-strategy session it was decided that the two most promising young ball players would get the coveted low numbers. So it came to pass that Bobby Murcer, the rookie infielder just sprung from the Army, and Jerry Kenney, the would-be converted center fielder just sprung from the Navy, would get the low numbers. It fell to Kenney to receive Crosett's No. 2. Young ball players are not as versed in the mystique of basball tradition as the fans, so Kenney was pleased but not overwhelmed with the honor of receiving the exalted No. 2. He said, "I think it's nice they game me the number, but I believe the man makes the number. I knew Crosetti; he hit ground balls to me when I was with the club at spring training before I went into the Navy. I only hope I make half the money he did." Numbers are important, particularly to the younger fans. Kids identify not only with a ball player and his mannerisms, but his number. A rabid young basball fan invariably can tell you the numbers of every player on his favorite team, something that the players themselves cannot always do. I can testify that the No. 4 had a magic aura about it in New York in 1938. It was worn by Lou Gehrig of the Yankees, Mel Ott of the New York Giants and Dolph Camilli of the Brookyn Dodgers, three stars. Not only that, but in the winter Tuffy Leemans of the football Giants wore No. 4 and, if memory serves, Alex Shibicky of the Rangers also wore it. No. 4 was my favorite number, of course. As I recall, my friends and I returned from the ball park playing a scorecard game of pitting against each other players with the same numbers. The Camilli vs. Ott matchup always spurred a vigorous argument between Giants and Dodgers fans. Numbers seemed to mean more in the old days. There was more emphasis on the low numbers, and it seemed that only the stars wore them. Nowadays, some teams even give the low numbers to managers and coaches, a questionable practice that Lee MacPhail is trying to get away from. Incidentally, the Mets go into this season without a No. 2 A pity. They must have somebody worthy enough to carry on the tradition established by No. 2 immortals Elio Chacon, Marvelous Marv Throneberry, George Altman, Chuck Hiller and Phil Linz.
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I think baseball fans look upon hitting as a masculine act and pitching as a more feminine action. |
A Parting Salute to Mickey Mantle 
