COMMENTARY : Mattingly Is Still Class of the Yankees

“Today’s no different than any other day,” Don Mattingly was saying. “I just want to play the game and talk about the game. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I don’t want to argue with anybody. I don’t want to fight with anybody. I don’t ever try to argue with the facts of the season. All I can say is, there’s a lot of season to go. I’m willing to put it all on the line the rest of the way. Then judge me. If I deserve to be raked at the end, go ahead.”

Mattingly had just attacked an infield workout as if he were still 22 and trying to make the team. He took ground balls after the rest of the Yankee infielders were back in the clubhouse. Now he was sitting at his locker, the corner locker that once belonged to Sparky Lyle and Dave Righetti and Ron Guidry and now belongs to him. Another day in an elegant Yankee career was beginning for one of the best people to ever sit in this room.

He is no longer the best player in the room. That is Paul O’Neill now. Mattingly is still one of the most important. If you don’t know that, you don’t know anything about his team’s character, or its personality, or what makes it work. It means you know nothing about the Yankees. No matter how much you want to act like a Yankee insider. No matter how easy a target Mattingly seems right now, open to all kinds of shots, cheap and otherwise.

Mattingly’s batting average is .265. He has one home run and 17 RBIs. It is not the first slow start of his career, although it is suddenly treated that way. He was at .262 after a comparable period in 1993. He was at .250 after 200 at-bats in 1992. He was younger then and did not have any problems seeing the ball.

Suddenly it is not supposed to matter that Mattingly spent half the season battling a virus that attacked his eyes, made it difficult and sometimes impossible to pick up both spin and speed. Buck Showalter was forced to sit him sometimes against left-handers, against whom Mattingly sometimes could not pick up the ball until it was on top of him. It forced Mattingly to change his stance and his swing.

He does not make any excuses for the way he has hit. He does not talk about his eyes any longer. He has never cared about what was written about him, or said. He has always been better than that. He is certainly better than his owner. Publicly George Steinbrenner talks about “Donnie” as if Mattingly were one of his children. And privately, Steinbrenner whispers that Mattingly cannot do the job anymore. It is typically gutless of him, predictably two-faced.

And Mattingly cannot be bothered by any of it. He is starting to see the ball and hit the ball. He is still looking for a clear shot at October.

“I’m not going to cry about why this happened or why that happened, because that’s not my way,” Mattingly said. “It’s never been my way. It’s too late for me to change now. I feel like there’s plenty of time for me to end up where I want to be, where I want our team to be. I feel I’ll be strong enough and healthy enough to get there.”