Accidental Hero: Winfield Topples King of Yankees

Big deals in New York Yankee history:

Babe Ruth hits 714 home runs.

Lou Gehrig plays in 2,130 consecutive games.

Joe DiMaggio hits safely in 56 consecutive games.

Mickey Mantle wins the Triple Crown.

Reggie Jackson hits three home runs in one World Series game.

Big deal.

They’re no Dave Winfield.

A lot of Yankees had the ability to drive a baseball over a fence. A lot of Yankees have their names on monuments standing inside Yankee Stadium.

Only one was able to bring down George Steinbrenner.

Winfield can call it a career right now. Another hit, home run, RBI or outfield assist is not required. Of course, if Winfield did quit today, the Angels also would be out of baseball by next week, but in terms of individual lifetime achievement, Winfield’s set for life.

After Monday, he’s set for Cooperstown.

Today, Winfield is the St. Patrick of American sports. He has driven the snake from the national pastime. He has delivered a blow for everyone who holds baseball to be a dignified and reputable game--and for everyone who was ever fired by George Steinbrenner.

Either way, millions have benefited.

Almost unwittingly, Winfield has backed into this new fame. He is the accidental hero. In truth, he did nothing more than play a first-rate right field for the Yankees for 10 years, none of them for a World Series winner.

George did the rest.

George couldn’t stand standing on the sidelines, watching the Baltimore Orioles, Detroit Tigers, Kansas City Royals, Minnesota Twins and Oakland A’s win World Series in the 1980s. These were the Yankees, damn it. World Series rings were their manifest destiny. Starved, George’s ego didn’t wither--it exploded.

Managers were fired. And re-hired. And re-fired. Nothing worked.

George spun out of control. Ranting, raving, foaming at the mouth, he took on his best players, Winfield and Don Mattingly. George labeled Winfield a loser. “Mr. May” was George’s insulting nickname for him--a snide suggestion that Winfield never was, nor ever would be, another Reggie Jackson, another Mr. October.

Winfield returned serve and the feud was on, to be played out every day on the back pages of the New York tabloids.

Eventually, the ill will came to a head when a clause in Winfield’s contract called for George to make donations to the Winfield Foundation, a charity organization. George failed to return the call. Winfield sued for breach of contract. George counter-sued.

The case obsessed George. This was one pennant he was going to win. He needed dirt on Winfield, so George borrowed a page from his political idol, Richard Nixon, and went covert. A gambler named Howard Spira claimed he worked for the Winfield Foundation and offered to sell George the information he wanted.

George was interested.

George agreed to pay $40,000.

Monday, George was told to pay again by baseball Commissioner Fay Vincent.

And a nation rejoiced.

Baseball without George Steinbrenner is an intriguing concept. Who are we going to hate now? What is Letterman going to do for material? Where are we going to find someone to root against? Isn’t that part of the fun?

Maybe Donald Trump will buy a team.

Then again, George plans to turn over the operation of the Yankees to his son, Hank, making this one time when the sins of the father are passed on to the son. So, tabloids, there are still a few good headlines out there. Hankensteinbrenner: When things get really scary.

When Winfield was asked for his reaction to King George’s downfall, he replied, simply, “Probably justice was served.” This was justice in the old-world sense, an eye-for-eye.

He who fires will, in the end, be fired, too.

In baseball terms, Steinbrenner survived greater offenses. He traded Rickey Henderson, Jack Clark and Winfield. He made Billy Martin a laughing stock. He tampered with other teams’ players, other teams’ managers. He ran the American League’s flagship franchise into the rocks.

People never mattered to George. Anything and anyone could be bought--pennants, loyalty, friends, enemies. George was unstoppable, invulnerable, untouchable--until he tried to buy incriminating evidence on his best outfielder.

For a mere $40,000, an empire crumbled. An evil empire. For $40,000, George Steinbrenner priced himself out of the game he was allowed to vandalize for much too long.

Today, the graffiti is gone. Today, a sun shines again in the Bronx.

Today, Dave Winfield pulls on his Angel uniform and jogs out to right field, an American hero for the 1990s.