The plane landed smoothly at Kansas City International Airport on Aug. 13, 2002. I was ready to begin covering another Yankees road trip. I arose from my seat, glanced a few rows behind me and caught the attention of a familiar face — not a big surprise, as Yankees players occasionally blew off the team charter and flew commercial.
“No first class?” I asked Mariano Rivera.
He responded with a half-sincere, half-mock scowl and a simple question: “We all land at the same time, don’t we?”
I enjoyed the privilege of covering the final 18 years of Rivera’s career, missing only his rookie campaign of 1995. I witnessed nearly all of his highlight-film accomplishments, including his wrapping up of the 1998, 1999, 2000 and 2009 World Series titles.
Yet, if I were to pick one moment that epitomized who Rivera is, what makes him so successful, I would point to that deplaning in Kansas City. No matter his task, he believes in keeping things simple. Which shouldn’t be a surprise for a guy who constructed a Hall of Fame resume by throwing primarily one pitch.
“When people say, ‘What’s it like working with him?’ It’s easy,” said YES Network broadcaster John Flaherty, who backed up Jorge Posada as Yankees catcher from 2003-05. “ ‘Easy’ is the word that comes to mind.”
“I think he takes the same approach in life as he does when he pitches,” Yankees director of communication and media relations Jason Zillo said. “The object is to get this done and done well and done as quickly as possible, really.”
There’s a difference between easy and easygoing. Rivera is entirely the former and not wholly the latter. His yearning for efficiency and expediency expresses itself in occasional impatience, and contrary to the perception, he occasionally has emoted on the mound when a bounce or defensive attempt didn’t go his way.
“You’d better be prepared,” said Zillo, who worked extensively this season with Rivera to execute his retirement game plan. “He doesn’t nonchalantly say, ‘Whatever.’ He’s got questions. Pointed questions that he wants answers to before he commits to doing anything.”
These words were spoken with a smile, because Rivera more than balances his hard-driving nature with humanity, self-awareness and occasionally biting sense of humor. Every time we went to him after getting a big save or big win, he would grin, turn on his tough-guy voice and ask, “What do you guys want?” Then he’d answer the questions and wrap it up sooner than later with an, “OK, I’ve got to go.”
(Of course, on the rare occasions when he blew a save and lost a game, he made sure to arrive at his locker promptly and engage with us for as long as necessary.)
Rivera served as Derek Jeter’s unofficial co-captain and Joe Torre’s and Joe Girardi’s unofficial bullpen coach. On July 16, 2010, when the Yankees honored the passing of both George Steinbrenner and Bob Sheppard in a pregame ceremony, it was Rivera who rested two flowers at home plate. He took it upon himself to scold, praise and guide his fellow relievers.
If you had any doubts about the regard Rivera’s opponents hold for him, you’ve seen how his preseason retirement announcement prompted a farewell tour featuring tributes, gifts and ovations from enemy audiences.
The Yankees will miss more than Rivera’s mound excellence.
“It’s a quiet confidence,” Flaherty said. “It’s an accountability that when he doesn’t get the job done, the few times that that happens, I think he impresses you more, because, ‘That’s my fault.’ But there’s that feeling that, ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’
“I think that’s what the best clubhouses I’ve been with this team was: ‘We’ll find a way tomorrow. We can move past it and get going.’ I think that quiet confidence that he exudes, the teams he’s on, you never feel panic.
“I’m looking forward to seeing if that’s going to be the case moving forward. I’d imagine it’s not.”
Back in mid-March, I fractured my left fibula and tore ligaments in my left ankle, causing me to miss the final couple of weeks of spring training. When I reconnected with the Yankees for their March 30 exhibition game against Army in West Point, I was hobbling around the campus on crutches.
Rivera saw me and beamed.
“Now you know what it’s like,” he said, at a time when his teammates were dropping like flies to myriad injuries.
I laughed at his reaction. No matter the arena, Mariano always cuts right to the chase. Bet on a concise Hall of Fame induction speech in July 2019.