The Perfect Americana Hero
Americana is rooted in a rich history of heroes. War heroes like Gen. George S. Patton and Gen. Dwight David Eisenhower. Sports heroes like Jesse Owens and Babe Didrikson Zaharias. Industrial heroes like John Paul Getty and Henry Ford. Superheroes like, well, Superman and Wonder Woman. Folk heroes like Johnny Appleseed and Annie Oakley.
But what happens when a man becomes famous for being so folksy that he loses his hero status?
You get Yogi Berra.
If you doubt what I am saying, check out It Ain’t Over, the documentary about the life of a legend who became known for his humanity more than his heroism.
The film feels like a wake. Not one of those mournful wakes. But a group of Yogi’s family and friends sitting around swapping stories about a life well-lived. Yogi’s granddaughter, Lindsey Berra, his sons, Dale, Larry and Tim, Yankees legends like Don Mattingly and Derek Jeter, even baseball’s greatest storyteller, the late Vin Scully, share their insights and memories.
Yogi certainly was a sports hero, perhaps one of the most overlooked in history. Just check out some of the numbers. As the New York Yankees catcher, he won 10 World Series rings. He caught Don Larsen’s perfect World Series game. He was a three-time AL MVP and a 15-time All-Star.
Yogi was also a war hero. He served in the Navy on a rocket ship during the D-Day invasion. He was nominated for a Purple Heart, but he refused to turn in the paperwork because he didn’t want his mom to worry.
Yogi’s accomplishments were larger than life, as we expect from our heroes. The problem for Yogi, as folks in the film point out, was that his personality, his whole persona, never measured up to heroic expectations.
Lawrence Peter “Yogi” Berra was born into a family of poor Italian immigrants living in a St. Louis neighborhood, The Hill. He showed promise early on, but his father expected him to work. When the St. Louis Cardinals announced open tryouts, Yogi saw his chance and took it.
It didn’t go quite as planned. The Cardinals general manager, Branch Rickey, offered him only $250 to sign with the club, half what he offered Yogi’s friend and neighbor, Joe Garagiola. Rickey thought he was being clever. He hoped Yogi would turn down the offer. You see, Rickey knew he was leaving St. Louis to become the GM for the Brooklyn Dodgers, and he expected to sign Yogi to a prospect contract with the Dodgers. But Rickey outsmarted himself, as Yogi signed with the Yankees before the Dodgers could scoop him up.
Yogi served in the Navy before joining the big-league club. But when he arrived in New York, people were questioning his credentials. Why? Because he didn’t look like Mantle. Yogi was kind of short and kind of round. Yogi didn’t listen to the critics, though. Yogi played baseball. And he played it better than just about everyone else around. He has three MVP awards to prove it.
In the middle of all the stories about what a great player Yogi was, there are wonderful tales about what a good guy he was. Stories about his relationships with Jackie Robinson and Larry Doby. Both were pioneers for Blacks in Major League Baseball. He didn’t see the color of their skin. He saw two guys who loved baseball as much as he did. The only beef he ever had with Jackie Robinson was when Jackie stole home in the World Series. And sorry, Yogi, he was safe.
But the thing that makes Yogi Berra, well, Yogi, to us is his “Yogi-isms:” those lovable, laughable quotes he’s remembered for.
“When you see a fork in the road, take it.”
“Baseball is 90 percent mental. The other half is physical.”
“You can observe a lot by watching.”
And, of course, the inspiration for the film’s title, “It ain’t over ’til it’s over,” which he might or might not have said.
But perhaps my favorite is, “If you can’t imitate him, don’t copy him.” Yogi tried convincing a young player not to copy Frank Robinson’s swing when he said it. But the quote, like most of them and Yogi himself, is much deeper than what you see on the surface.
In his way, Yogi Berra is the perfect Americana hero. After all, he was never anything but exactly who he was. No ounce of pretense in the man. No posturing or grandstanding. Just a man who loved his game, loved his team, loved his fans, and loved his family.
No, there will be no déjà vu all over again when it comes to Yogi Berra.
