Teammates tout Jimmy Piersall's transcendental outfield abilities

“The catches Piersall makes simply defy description. They have to be seen to be believed and he keeps making them,” Lou Boudreau.

Those who watched Jimmy Piersall patrol the outfield for the Boston Red Sox in the 1950s, placed his name above lauded fly chasers such Tris Speaker, Terry Moore, Joe DiMaggio, and yes, Willie Mays. The daring depths at which he played allowed for Piersall to make miraculous catches that were deemed impossible by everyone in the ballpark, except himself.

While his legendary defensive efforts were overshadowed by his struggles with his mental health and unpredictable on field behavior, there was no denying that Piersall’s glove was where many sure hits in the expansive ballparks of his era went to rest. Sadly, on Sunday June 3rd, 2017, Piersall too met his final resting place in Wheaton, Illinois. He was 87.

Piersall was signed by the Red Sox in 1948, and immediately made an impact for their Class A team in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Usually most rookies fresh out of high school were sent to lower classifications, but one Scranton teammate saw why Boston put him on the fast track to the major leagues.

“Jim joined us about 30 days late in 1948,” teammate Harley Hisner recalled in 2008. “He was in high school and his team was in the high school finals. They signed him and sent him to Scranton. He was only 18 years old, but he was the best curve ball hitter I’d ever seen that young.”

The oddly shaped outfields of minor league parks gave Piersall the room he needed to show off his spectacular defensive abilities. After spending three seasons with Piersall in Scranton and Louisville, Hisner held him in higher esteem than his famous New York contemporaries.

“As far as I am concerned there was nobody that can go get a ball better than him, including Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays," Hisner said. "He had a sense of where that ball was going; as soon as it was hit, he was off and running. I’d take him any day.”

When the Red Sox finally brought Piersall up for good in 1952 after a quick look in 1950, manager Lou Boudreau envisioned Piersall’s athleticism serving him best at short stop. The toll that the demands of learning a new position wore heavily on Piersall, which led in part to his well publicized nervous breakdown.

Ted Lepcio was one of Boston’s fresh faced infielders in 1952 and was quickly paired with Piersall as their double play combination of the future. He found Piersall conflicted by playing a position that he had little familiarity with in order to meet management’s demands.

“He was supposed to help me out,” the 87-year-old Lepcio said via telephone from his home in Needham, Massachusetts shortly after Piersall’s passing. “Imagine that, a center fielder going to help me out! That was a joke. He told me personally that he didn’t want to do it, but what are you going to do when you are a young kid and the guy says you’re going to play a position. He knew he wasn’t in the right position.”

Piersall, Lepcio, Boudreau and Dick Brodowski / Boston Public Library

Piersall's recovery was well documented in his autobiography, "Fear Strikes Out," which later became a Hollywood movie with Anthony Perkins. Lepcio was Piersall’s roommate and the two developed a close relationship throughout Piersall’s struggles. When Piersall finally returned to the team from being hospitalized, Lepcio’s locker was the first reporters ran to.

“He didn’t go in there for a joke, he was wound tight and finally had to have some help at the time he went in,” Lepcio said. “When he came out, the first thing was the reporters came to me. I said, ‘He was the same Jimmy to me.’ It was kind of meant as a joke, but he improved. We roomed together for almost two years until we had enough of each other.”

Ike DeLock also broke in with Piersall and Lepcio in 1952, serving as a reliever on a veteran pitching staff. He said that Piersall had a fascination with besting Tris Speaker’s record for unassisted double plays by a center fielder. As a young pitcher, he was always worried that Piersall was going to get beat behind him by a fly ball.

“He always wanted to have a double play unassisted,” the 88-year-old Delock said Sunday from his home in Naples, Florida. “I told him, ‘Jimmy, when I’m pitching, you play deep in center field because I don’t want anybody to hit the ball over your head.’”

I had the opportunity to speak with Piersall in 2008 over the phone from his home in Wheaton. He explained how he learned to play such a shallow center field, one that is rarely seen anymore in the major leagues.

“It was 500 feet to centerfield in Louisville, the biggest centerfield in the world,” he said. “Most of the time, I cut it in half. Most balls are hit in front of you, not over your head. Watch how many broken bats go out into left field.”

Piersall’s made his presence known in baseball after he was moved permanently to the outfield in 1953. His knack for the spectacular led author Jason Aronoff in his book, “Going, Going … Caught,” to rate Piersall as the best defensive major league outfielder that year.

“In 1953 Jimmy Piersall had a fielding year which was brilliant from start to finish,” Aronoff said. “He had a number of catches which veteran observers called the greatest they had ever seen.”

While Piersall continued to make plays throughout his career on balls that were foregone as home runs or extra base hits, none came close to his series of thefts in 1953. Fast forward a decade later, Piersall found his way to the New York Mets via the Washington Senators in a trade for Gil Hodges.

While the lowly Mets thought that Piersall could recapture some of his Boston magic, he made noise not for his outstanding play on the field, but his outlandish response after he hit his 100th career home run against the Philadelphia Phillies in the Polo Grounds.

Tim Harkness had just arrived from the Los Angeles Dodgers and had reveled in the presence of his veteran teammates, including the newly arrived Piersall. He noted a conversation in the clubhouse between Piersall and Duke Snider that occurred shortly after Snider hit his 400th career home run.

“Duke hit his 400th home run that summer and Piersall said to him, ‘You know, I’ve got 99, when I hit my 100th, the whole world is gonna hear about it,’” the 79-year-old Harkness recalled from his Ontario home on Sunday.

Piersall goes backwards for 100th home run / Author's Collection

As luck would have it, Harkness was hitting behind Piersall when he hit his infamous home run where he rounded the bases backwards. Harkness was immortalized in the photo, waiting on deck in his number three jersey as Piersall approached the plate. He recounted the event as it unfolded in front of him in the on-deck circle.

“He hit one of those Chinese home runs in the old Polo Grounds,” he said. “He hit it about 285 feet. When he got to first base, he turned around and started running backwards. When he rounded third, I said to myself, ‘Should I kick him in the ass?’ When he came to the plate, I just stood there with the bat just like a statue and just watched him do it. As soon as he touched home plate, the umpire said, “Home run and you’re gone!” He threw him out of the ballgame for making a travesty of the game so to speak.”

Piersall was shortly thereafter released by the New York Mets. He didn’t hold back about his feelings for the organization when asked about the closing ceremonies of Shea Stadium in 2008.

“I don't give a s—t,” he replied.

He finished his 17-year major league career with the Los Angeles and California Angels in 1967. He later was in the spotlight for his controversial comments as a White Sox broadcaster that led to his firing and spawned his book, “The Truth Hurts.”

During our conversation in 2008, Piersall displayed his candor when discussing the prevalent ticket prices at major league stadiums. As both New York teams were moving towards new stadium, he felt that the outrageous prices were driven by the owners.

“Two-hundred-fifty dollar a seat in Yankee Stadium ... the only problem we have are politicians,” he said. “The message never seems to get to those guys. It was $2.50 for the bleachers and $6 for a good seat. Everyone is saying that the players are making too much money, but the owners aren't going bankrupt. ... They could get rid of those 40 guys in the offices that send out postcards. They could cut down on their expense accounts, but it won't happen.”

As we came to the close of our interview, Piersall left me with this gem that was reminiscent of the old school mentality that is long gone from today’s game, as the league has become more conscious of the protecting their on-field product.

“I got drilled one day and I said to the pitcher, ‘If you don't get that guy, I'll drop the ball with the bases loaded.’ I asked the umpires why they're so tough and the owners said they don't want their players getting hurt. Bob Watson said the owners are afraid the good players are going to get hurt. There aren't that many good players; they're decent players.”

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Book Review: Clem Labine: 'Always A Dodger' by Richard Elliott

Clem Labine was a fixture on the Dodgers pitching staff during the entire 1950s decade. From Brooklyn to Los Angeles, Labine stabilized a legendary bullpen as one of the game’s earliest relief specialists. Yet 65 years after his debut, his career achievements remained overshadowed by virtue of being on the same team with Hall of Famers Roy Campanella, Don Drysdale, Sandy Koufax, Pee Wee Reese, Jackie Robinson, and Duke Snider. His fellow bullpen-mate Tommy Lasorda, who made the Hall of Fame as a manager, acknowledge how underrated Labine was amongst his teammates.

“He was a great pitcher, but he was surrounded by too many stars,” Lasorda said. “He played the game the way it was supposed to be played.”

Richard Elliott, a close friend of Labine’s from Woonsocket, Rhode Island, has finally given the Dodger hurler the spotlight he deserves by authoring a very personal biography, “Clem Labine: Always A Dodger.” They first met well before he was a baseball star, while Labine was a part-time employee during high school at Elliott’s father’s apparel company, Jacob Finkelstein & Sons. A relationship that was forged in the late 1940s between a young kid, his father, and one of Brooklyn’s most beloved pitchers, remained bonded for sixty years until Labine’s 2007 death.

Always A Dodger / Richard Elliott

Elliott takes us on an unparalleled look inside Labine’s life that could only come from one with such close access to the Dodger great. From the opening of the book, it is evident that this work is much more about relationships than baseball.

“Long before he was a major league pitcher, Clem Labine was my dad’s best friend,” Elliot wrote in “Always A Dodger.”

Labine worked for Elliott’s family throughout the off-seasons of his major league career and well after he threw his final pitcher for the Mets in 1962. With the major league minimum salary currently exceeding $500,000 per year, the type of kinship that Labine and Elliott experienced from the jobs necessitated to supplement the low ballplayer wages of that era may never again be duplicated.

Filled with Labine and Elliott’s personal family photos, the images contained give “Always A Dodger,” a feel of looking inside someone’s scrapbook with a rich narrative of the life events surrounding each scene. Along the way, Elliott not only details Labine’s greatest triumphs, but also his toughest tragedies.

On the field, Labine was celebrated for his role on two World Series Championship teams, taking home Brooklyn’s only pennant in 1955, and pitching in 1960 with the Pittsburgh Pirates. Yet away from the field, Labine experienced two tremendous losses in a short period of time that haunted him for the rest of his life. His son Jay lost a leg in Vietnam and his wife Barbara passed away from cancer in 1976, only seven years after his son’s terrible injury.

Elliot explores the inner struggle that Labine dealt with from being away from his family as a ballplayer. While living the life of a major leaguer on the road seems exciting, these players leave their families behind for a half-year, relying on the strength of a strong wife to carry the household. It was a choice that pulled at Labine well after he retired from baseball.

“It troubles me remembering how tortured Clem seemed when he would speak of the compromises to family life which had resulted from his seventeen-year career in professional sports,” Elliott said.

While Labine was lauded for his role as the closer in the Dodgers bullpen, two of the greatest games he ever pitched came as a starter for “Dem Bums.” October 3, 1951 is widely recognized in baseball circles for Bobby Thomson’s “Shot Heard ‘Round the World,” off of Ralph Branca, but the primary reason that game even had a chance to be played was due to Labine’s masterful performance the day prior. With the Dodgers’ season on the line, he went nine shutout innings to lead the Dodgers to a 10-0 victory. This clutch feat has been historically overlooked due to Thomson’s aforementioned home run the next day.

When the New York Yankees and Brooklyn Dodgers squared off in the 1956 World Series, Don Larsen gave the Yankees a 3-2 series edge when he threw the only perfect game in World Series history. With the Dodgers season on the line, Walter Alston gave the ball to Labine, who was nothing short of spectacular, besting Bob Turley for 10 innings to secure the Dodgers 1-0 victory and a chance to play in Game 7. Overshadowed by Larsen's performance, Labine’s extra inning effort is rarely discussed regarding the 1956 World Series.

By penning “Always A Dodger,” Elliot ensures that Labine’s career is not only celebrated, but remembered. In the eight years since Labine’s death, Elliott acknowledges that not a day goes by that Labine is not missed. Many baseball fans hope to share just a few moments with a major leaguer at the ballpark or an autograph show, but Elliott had the fortune of spending a lifetime with Labine by his side. The illustration of their relationship in the book captured the essence of the life that he touched.

“His childhood hero had become his business associate, close friend, and confident,” he said.
 Clem had become, in many ways, a second father.”

* - This article was originally published on Examiner.com October 4, 2015. 

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Baseball Happenings Podcast: Rob Brown of Teambrown Apparel

Rob Brown, owner of Teambrown Apparel, maker of officially licensed clothing by the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, sat down for the Baseball Happenings Podcast to discuss how they collaborated with the museum and the direction of their clothing line.

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Cy Buker, 93, a one season wonder for the Brooklyn Dodgers

Cyril “Cy” Buker, one of the long standing Brooklyn Dodger alums, passed away Tuesday October 11, 2011, at the Marshfield Care Center in Wisconsin. He was 93.

Cy Buker / Baseball-Almanac.com

Buker played professionally from 1940-1952, making it to the major leagues with Brooklyn in 1945. Buker was called to Brooklyn after having a standout 11-3 season in St. Paul in 1944. Eager to play in Brooklyn, his chances at the major leagues were temporarily dashed when he was drafted into World War II service.

“I wasn't there two days before I was in the Army,” Buker said in an interview with Jim Sargent. “The Army finally released me about May 15. I was in what they call the observation unit. I had asthma, and I was wheezing up a storm.”

While in Brooklyn, he compiled a 7-2 record with a 3.30 ERA in 42 appearances during the 1945 campaign. With that type of record, one would think Buker was a shoo-in for a spot on the club the following season. What followed was an intense set of contract negotiations with Branch Rickey that delayed Buker’s arrival to spring training in 1946.

After months of back and forth letters, Rickey offered Buker a $1,500 raise contingent on his ability to make the team. Resigning from his teaching job, Buker finally reported to spring training, albeit three weeks late. His prospects didn't look good.

"I could see that everyone was mad at me," Buker recalled. "Nobody would even talk to me. I was assigned to the 'B' squad immediately, without throwing a ball. It went that way throughout spring training and into the season. I sat on the bench. I never pitched one ball in 1946. They didn't want anyone to see me. I sat on the bench until the final hour of the last day before cut-down, and, you guessed it. I was optioned to Montreal.”

Going to Montreal, Buker found himself in the middle of history as Jackie Robinson was beginning baseball's integration. Robinson had just entered the minor leagues and was beginning to build his legend north of the border. Buker noted in a 2008 interview that some teammates were weary of his presence.

“There were many, especially those from the southern United States who were very skeptical," he said. "They didn’t think it would work. They were mistaken and after several months, [they] accepted him.

Buker developed a relationship with Robinson, so much that he was offered to travel with him after the end of the season.

“We got along well. In fact, he wanted me to join his barnstorming team after the season,” he said. Unfortunately for him, a home plate collision prevented him from joining Robinson. “I didn’t go because I wasn’t recovered from my injury.”

This injury would plague him for the rest of his career and Buker would continue to moonlight between his love for teaching and playing baseball, joining most clubs after the school year was finished and leaving once football started. He continued in this fashion until 1952, leaving pitching behind to fully focus on teaching and coaching. His prowess in the school system as a coach would see him inducted in to the Wisconsin Baseball and Football Coaches Associations' Halls of Fame.

After retiring from teaching in 1970, he started his own body repair and painting business in Greenwood, which he operated until he was 88 years old. With Buker's passing, that leaves 44 living former Brooklyn Dodgers.

* This article was originally published for Examiner.com October 15, 2011.

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Bob 'Sarge' Kuzava, 93, saved consecutive World Series deciding games for the Yankees

Bob Kuzava, a three-time World Series champion with the New York Yankees in the 1950s, passed away May 15, 2017 in Wyandotte, Michigan at the age of 93. He pitched for 10 seasons in the major leagues with a 49-44 record in 213 appearances.

Kuzava signed with the Cleveland Indians in 1941 out of St. Patrick High School in Wyandotte and only eighteen months later, he was shipped out of the country to serve in the Army during World War II. He put his baseball career on hold for three years to fulfill his military duties.

“[I spent] three years in the Army,” Kuzava said during a 2008 telephone interview from his home in Wyandotte. “I was a sergeant; I spent two years overseas in Burma, India, and China. I came out as a buck sergeant. It was so hot in Burma and India. I played a little recreation softball, but no baseball.

“I was fortunate; I saw a little bit, but no heavy action in Burma. I felt sorry for the guys. There wasn't much going on, except in Burma when they had Merill's Marauders fighting the Japanese. Those guys had to do everything with mules in the jungle because it was the only way you could carry stuff and travel. I didn't get into any action, I was just glad to survive.”

Bob Kuzava signed photo / N. Diunte

Returning unscathed from the Army, “Sarge” had a banner year for Wilkes Barre in 1946, going 14-6 with a 2.36 ERA. His spectacular performance earned him a September call-up at the end of the season. Determined to return to the majors after getting a taste of the big league life, 1947 played out in similar fashion that finished with a cup of coffee for Cleveland. Only this time, one of his rookie teammates was helping to integrate Major League Baseball.

“Larry Doby was a terrific ballplayer and well educated gentleman,” he said. “When he first came up, I was a rookie too. He played center field for us and was a very good major league player.”

The Indians traded Kuzava to the Chicago White Sox to start the 1949 season. Given the opportunity to pitch regularly, he posted a 10-6 record and finished fourth in the American League Rookie of the Year voting. Just as quickly as he was acquired by the White Sox due to the wheeling and dealing of Frank “Trader” Lane, Kuzava was sent to the Washington Senators in 1950 in a six-player trade for slugging first baseman Eddie Robinson.

While his time in Washington wasn't one of pennant contention, his first season in the nation's capital provided one of the most memorable moments of his career. Sporting a lifetime .086 batting average, Kuzava’s lack of prowess at the plate was a prima facie case for the establishment of the designated hitter. While no baseball fan would ever get him confused at the plate for his legendary teammates Joe DiMaggio or Mickey Mantle; however, almost sixty years later, he was proud to tell the story of his only major league home run.

“There was a guy named Bob Hooper who [pitched] for the Philadelphia A's,” he recalled. “We were in Washington and I hit a ball to left field, Paul Lanier came in to make a shoestring catch and the ball rolled all the way to the fence which was about 400 feet away. It was an inside the park home run; I didn't have the power to hit the ball over the fence in Washington.”

While playing for the cellar dwelling Senators was one of the less glamorous major league jobs, a mid-season 1951 trade with the New York Yankees put him on the elevator straight to the top of the American League. Immediately, the difference in the clubhouse atmosphere was obvious.

“We had a guy one day who didn't run too hard to first,” he recalled. “We had an ex-Marine, Hank Bauer on our club. He waited for him. He asked, ‘Are you tired?’ The guy looked at him and said, ‘Well, no.’ Hank asked, ‘Well why don't you run hard to first? We're trying to make a couple bucks, get in the World Series.’ Hank said to the guy, ‘If you are tired, tell the old man, and we'll get somebody in there who wants to hustle.’ That's how it was; we took care of our own.”

The prevailing intense attitude that Bauer reinforced helped to send Kuzava and the Yankees to the 1951 World Series, the first of their three consecutive World Series championships. Serving as a reliever in all three Fall Classics, he made history of his own when he earned a save in the deciding games of both the 1951 and 1952 World Series.

“I am the only guy to have a save in the World Series back to back [in the deciding games on consecutive World Series],” he said. “It's quite an honor. To have a save in back to back World Series, I don't know if it will ever be done again.”

After defeating the New York Giants in 1951, the Subway Series continued in 1952 and 1953, when the Yankees squared off against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Kuzava recalls that there was very little separating the two clubs at the time.

“We played against the Brooklyn Dodgers in ’52 and ’53. Both teams had Hall of Famers in the future; they had 5-6 guys that became Hall of Famers and so did we. There wasn't much difference between the clubs; the teams that got a break during the series won. We just maybe got a few more breaks than they did.” With all of the talent that Brooklyn had, Kuzava was most impressed by Jackie Robinson, not only for what he did on the field, but also for a humble gesture he made in defeat. After losing the 1952 World Series, Robinson was the first to go to the Yankees clubhouse and give them their due.

“We beat them in Brooklyn and I had the save that day,” he said. “Robinson came over to our clubhouse and congratulated us. That's what kind of man he was. He was a tough guy. He held it back, but he showed it on the playing field.”

Winning three World Series rings with the Yankees cemented his role as a key bullpen member during their dominant run in the early 1950s. As the Yankees cultivated young talent from their rich farm system, Kuzava was let go by the team in 1954 and he latched on with the Baltimore Orioles for the remainder of the season.

He pitched in the major leagues through 1957 with stops in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and St. Louis. As he approached his mid 30s, changing teams so frequently made it difficult to build enough of a rapport with the managers to get on the mound consistently.

“I was getting up there in age,” he said. “I had a few cups of coffee. In Philly I enjoyed the guys, but I didn't pitch much. A lot of times when you go to different ball clubs, the managers don't know you too well and you sit around too long.”

He toiled in the minor leagues until 1960 when he finished up his career as a player-manager for the Charleston White Sox in the South Atlantic League. He went face-to-face with the ugly head of Jim Crow as the progress that Robinson and Doby worked to make was far from finished. He recruited Negro League veteran Sam Hairston to help him mentor the young players and help them deal with the racism they faced in the South.

“I managed one year for Bill Veeck in Charleston, and I had two guys who were colored,” he said. “This was 1960; one was Oillie Brantley, the other was Jim Lynn. [Sam] Hairston came down to help me in the summer; he was an old catcher with the White Sox, a great guy. Even then, I'd get phone calls from people threatening that if those guys played, they were going to do this or that. It was terrible. I'm talking 1960! We had Cubans whose skin was darker than the blacks and they could live with us in the hotels. The blacks couldn't and those were the guys who went to war for us along with me and the other guys.”

After his playing and coaching days were over, he scouted for a decade. While he enjoyed being around the game, the grind of scouting combined with the low pay proved to be too much of a strain on his family. He returned home to Wyandotte to get a job in the beer industry.

“I scouted for 10 years,” he said. “I worked for John McHale and Charlie Finley. It got to be too much traveling and there was no money in scouting. My wife had to do most of the work. I got a job back in my hometown and retired from the beer business.”

When we spoke in 2008, the then 85-year-old Kuzava felt it was easy for old-timers like him to get lost by baseball fans with the abundance of players that followed in his footsteps. Nonetheless, he was happy to be recognized and wasn’t shy about addressing the vastly improved conditions that major leaguers currently enjoyed.

“A lot of people don't remember you anymore because of expansion,” he said. “There are 30 ball clubs now; it’s easy to forget people. We only had eight teams in each league. Our meal money was eight dollars per day and we traveled by train.

“They get $100 per day now and buffets in the clubhouse. They get bereavement days for babies being born. [They play] no doubleheaders! We played doubleheaders almost every weekend and holidays! We did it and we enjoyed it. That's the union and the way it is now. My wife had five babies and I couldn't get home to see any of them. I applaud the union for giving them these things. It was different when I played.”

Kuzava was among the early members of the MLBPA and quickly acknowledged the value of the pension he had from playing baseball. He wished that modern players would honor Curt Flood for the sacrifices he made that led to the tremendous salaries they’re earning.

“We get a nice pension,” he said. “It came into effect in 1947. You could have played 20 years before 1947, retired and got nothing. I went to the big leagues to stay in 1947. I was lucky; I just got in there when the plan started. When I started getting my pension, it was a few hundred dollars a month, now it is a lot more than that.

“They're making so much today because of the rules. When I broke in, you belonged to a club for life; you had no say in the thing. Curt Flood started the ball rolling when guys could make more money and become free agents. They blackballed him because he stepped up and started complaining. In St. Louis, they wanted to trade him and he didn't want to go. These guys today ought to thank the lord for him because now a lot of them are millionaires.”

Go to the two hour and 15 minute mark to see Kuzava pitch in the deciding game of the 1952 World Series.

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Why Martin Dihigo is remembered as a 'God' by one Cuban ballplayer

Martín Dihigo is widely regarded as one of the most talented and versatile players in the Hall of Fame. Whether he was on the mound, in the field, or at the plate, Dihigo stood out among the mere mortals that played alongside him.

Cholly Naranjo, a star pitcher for Cuba's Alemendares ball club in the 1950s who later made the major leagues with the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1956, had a special connection with Dihigo. Naranjo is the nephew of Ramon Couto, Dihigo's catcher both in Cuba and with the Cuban Stars of the Negro Leagues.

The now 82-year-old Naranjo is one of a handful of players alive that saw Dihigo up close and personal. Speaking with Naranjo in May 2017, he explained what it was like to have contact with "El Inmortal," at an early age.

"Man you should have seen that guy, he looked like a God!" Naranjo said.

In the rest of the interview, which is linked below, Naranjo discusses watching Dihigo play as a youngster and how he was a top line player as both a pitcher and a batter. 

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Kevin Elster tells how his departure from the Yankees opened the door for Derek Jeter

A few years ago while Kevin Elster was in New York for a 1986 New York Mets reunion, we discussed about his short tenure with the New York Yankees in 1995 that was hastened by Derek Jeter's arrival. On the day that the Yankees will retire Jeter's number 2, I am sharing a story that I wrote for metroBASEBALL magazine, where Elster recalls how he received a very clear message from the Yankees that Jeter was his replacement and that his services were no longer needed by their organization.

While his tenure with the Yankees was met with little fanfare, sporting a .057 average (2-for-37), Elster’s departure from the Bronx allowed for a legend’s career to begin. He knew his time was running out during a road trip when the hotel staff mistook his identity for someone named Jeter.

“We were in Seattle around Memorial Day weekend in 1995," Elster said. "A bellhop knocked on my door and said, ‘Mr. Jeter, your luggage is here.’ I told the guy that he had the wrong person, and being around the game, I immediately knew something was up.

"Jeter was staying next door, so I knocked on Derek’s room and told him I had his luggage. He knew the deal and gave me a big hug. When I got to the ballpark, Showalter brought me in his office and told me I was going to be released. Jeter made his debut and the rest was history.”

Pushed aside for a rookie, a veteran might harbor ill feelings towards his replacement, but not Elster.

“I was a backup at the time and just getting back to the majors. He deserved to be there.”

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