Bronx, N.Y., November 26, 2008 — My better half and I were not enthusiastic when the Yankees shifted their Spring Training facility from Fort Lauderdale to Tampa on Florida’s West Coast in March 1996. We both had been attending this rite of March with separate sets of friends for years even before we met, and neither one of us was eager to give up our room right on the beach, the alligator-tail appetizers, or the aging stadium, buried as it was in an industrial park off route 95.
Unlike the Tampa location that would succeed it, Fort Lauderdale Stadium held no similarity to the big ballyard in the South Bronx the Yanks played in all year, though the 332 feet distance to left field was 12 feet longer than that down the right-field line, as in the Bronx. But the poor regular-season records the Yanks posted while we attended spring games in Lauderdale notwithstanding, we did have some fond memories.
We had witnessed Jack Clark homer in his very first Yankee start against the Orioles at Bobby Maduro Stadium in downtown Miami in 1988, even if he did stumble at the first base bag to start an injury-depleted season. The Braves and the Expos played in West Palm Beach, about a half hour north, and we joined a line 5,000 people long at the local McDonald’s when backup catcher Jerry Goff won everyone in the park a free hamburger with an eighth-inning home run. And then there was the blizzard of 1993, where we shivered in 40-degree winds while the rest of the East Coast was virtually frozen shut. It seemed otherworldly watching Lauderdale weathermen instructing viewers to tuck their jacket sleeves under their gloves to protect against frostbite. (Yes, that was plus +40 degrees, not minus!) The winds had knocked out the sound system and part of the outfield wall that day, but the game was played anyway. Fans stood in silence for a moment, then cheered as if the Star Spangled Banner had been played, and the game went on in silence once the wall was repaired. People expressed a lot more interest in my scorecard than usual that day.
But with their minor-league headquarters up and running across the state, the Yanks went though with their plan to relocate their spring games, and we of course followed them. Initially it was I who received most of the benefits of the switch, because I was able to break away and fly down there one day before Sue. We selected a Hilton Hotel on the Gulf in Redington Beach, about 25 miles due west of newly constructed Legends Field, across the Bay in the finger of Pinellas County that aligns with Clearwater to the north and contains St. Petersburg to the south. I awoke facing a 200-mile-plus drive south to Ft. Myers for a battle with the Red Sox in Isle of Palms Park on March 7. The Boston/New York rivalry was hot even then, but mostly through the haze of 18 years back to the days of Bucky Dent and his shot over the Green Monster.
As I headed south, the sun baked and the temperature rose, and less than 24 hours removed from the chilly northeast, I was cooking in 90-degree temps watching Boston eke out a small lead. In his final season with the Sox, Roger Clemens was up on Andy Pettitte 4-2 through four, but it was all Yanks from there on in, highlighted by a 13-run seventh in a 20-6 win. Lefties Eric Gunderson (five runs) and Brian Bark (two) got the first and third outs of the seventh around righty Joe Hudson, who allowed six scores while retiring one Yankee as well. I was scoring everything, a formidable pursuit in early March, made even worse by trying to squeeze the big inning’s notations into the scorecard provided in the $2 program. During the 13-run uprising I noted one highlight I haven’t seen since: multiple hits out of the same position in one inning from different players, twice. Both Gerald Perry (DH) and then Ivan Cruz doubled in the fifth hole. And nonroster invitee Jose DeJesus homered in the seventh spot hitting for rookie Derek Jeter, who had already singled earlier in the frame.
My better half arrived that night, unfortunately accompanied by the cloud cover, intermittent rain, and cool temps that would dog the rest of the trip. The drive to Osceola County Stadium in Kissimmee for a Yankees/Astros tilt March 8 covered half the distance as the trip the day before, but took almost as long. Ordering these tix Day One paid off big time, as we were seated in the first row behind the visiting dugout. The game was played under partly sunny skies, but in 50-degree temps, and the Yankee braintrust, as often happens in the spring, was seated outside the dugout on folding chairs to eke out as much warmth as the intermittent sun would afford. The 13-3 romp might lead you to believe that the Yankee offense picked up where it had left off the day before, but the outcome was not much in doubt once veteran Houston righty Donne Wall had a forgettable fifth inning. After two quick outs, he walked four straight, then George Bell threw away Andy Fox’s double and Craig Biggio booted a Mark Ronan (nonroster catcher) grounder, for five runs.
But the highlight of our day happened earlier, as the Yanks were warming in this field just a few miles from Orlando before the bottom of the first. Outfield (and first base) coach Jose Cardenal was trying to signal left fielder Matt Luke to play in a little closer, but could not get his attention, which provoked the following comment from Joe Torre: “Tell him to watch you, huh? He might as well be at Disney World!”
We don’t vacation in Florida so we can rise early every day and drive multiple miles through traffic. The theme is R&R, which makes me proud that we actually managed the March 9 trip to Legends Field early enough to breakfast at Mom’s Place, just east of Legends on Dale Mabry. The autographed pictures of Yankee stars that adorn the checkout corner do not lie, as we would discover several times in subsequent trips where we spied the likes of Mel Stottlemyre and Joe Torre catching a bite before a long day at the ballpark. And it’s great, basic, affordable diner food too, served with little fuss and a smile.
It was downright frigid this day, and the temps extended to the bats, at least once Kenny Rogers surrendered hits to the first three visiting Reds ballplayers. Cincinnati rode a three-run first inning to a 6-1 win. Little more than a prospect at the time, Jorge Posada drove in the only Yankee run by singling in Jim Leyritz as Pete Schourek held the Yanks to two hits over five innings. Barry Larkin doubled and tripled, scored once, and drove in two runs in two at bats.
The conditions and the offense(s) were worse the next day, as Yankee Melido Perez and Brian Williams of the Tigers threw blanks through four. A leadoff walk to DH Tim Hyers in the fifth turned the game as catcher Mark Parent drove him in with a two-out double in a 1-0 Detroit win. Each team scratched three hits, two by Tony Fernandez of the Yanks, two by Parent.
March 11 was worse, with early word that the night game vs. St. Louis was called, and a driving rain kept us away from the beach. It was our last full day, and Sue had barely seen a drop of sun. Despondent, we ventured north from the hotel on Gulf Boulevard, but with virtually no visibility, we stopped just up the road at the first restaurant we came to. Voila, we hit a goldmine, as the Lobster Pot made her vacation. Warmed by a serving of conch chowder with a hint of sherry, I chose a Dover Sole, while she went for the lobster/crabmeat special. Two hours later, her vacation had been made.
We’ve frequented this superb eatery every year since, and after many near misses actually saw Torre there too. But our most prized sighting, at least from an eavesdropping point of view, was when we were seated at a table next to one at which Phillies Curt Schilling and Lenny Dykstra were dining. Terry Francona was managing the Phillies at the time, and it will surprise no one to hear that Curt had a lot to say about his (yet to be successful) manager. Six years before he and Francona thrilled to a Championship in Boston, Schilling made it abundantly clear that he had little respect for Francona as a manager.
Packing for the return trip, I took a moment to scan my scorecards, when I noticed that I had only had time to scrawl the number of the fourth Yankee pitcher I had seen vs. Boston the first day. Number 47 had allowed a run after a leadoff Mike Greenwell triple, but he threw hard, and closed the frame with a swinging strike out of one-time Indians speedster Alex Cole. A look at the rosters showed that I had just seen one of the very few appearances with the big club of bonus baby Brien Taylor, the 1991 first-round choice that gave Yankee fans hope, then broke their hearts when he ruined his shoulder in a bar fight. Seven months later with the first Yanks’ Championship in two decades secured, I realized how cool a moment I had witnessed that hot sunny day.
YANKEE BASEBALL!!!