For the second time in just 48 hours, the New York Yankees — and their host city — have lost a legend.
This time, it’s the team’s larger-than-life owner, George Steinbrenner — a New York institution for nearly four decades.
The Boss died yesterday in Tampa, just days after his 80th birthday — and but two days after the death of beloved long-time Yankee announcer Bob Sheppard.
Without question, Steinbrenner’s impact on the franchise, on baseball and on the city itself will be long felt.
The Boss officially handed operating control of the Bronx Bombers to his sons after the 2008 season, following several years of poor health.
But, to the end, the New York Yankees were George Steinbrenner’s team.
He’d earned the right to that legacy.
When he bought the team in 1973 for all of $8.8 million, its glory days were but a distant memory; barely 600,000 fans came to the House That Ruth Built to watch the Yanks play that season.
Under Steinbrenner, the team claimed seven World Series titles — the most recent, last year — and 11 league pennants. The 1998 squad, which won a mind-boggling 125 games, is arguably the greatest of all time. Annual attendance peaked at 4.2 million in 2008, a seven-fold jump from when The Boss took over.
And the franchise today is a sports behemoth worth an estimated $1.6 billion — more than 180 times Steinbrenner’s initial investment.
Most important were his team’s initial World Series wins in the late ’70s — a time when New York City was still on its knees struggling to recover from near-bankruptcy, skyrocketing crime, a stagnant economy and social decay.
The Big Apple desperately needed a lift, and Steinbrenner’s Yankees delivered — capped by the memorable Series night when Reggie Jackson, Mr. October, hit three home runs in a single game.
Steinbrenner was an owner many New Yorkers loved to hate, and there’s no denying his dark side: He was twice suspended from baseball and forced to shell out hundreds of thousands in fines. He often provoked wholly unnecessary tension, and his public spats with Jackson, Billy Martin and Yogi Berra turned ugly.
But Steinbrenner insisted that he was “really 95 percent Mr. Rogers and only 5 percent Oscar the Grouch.” Those who knew him personally agreed.
Moreover, his outsized personality was inseparable from his winning ways — and from his ability to restore the team to its triumphant days.
Steinbrenner spent lavishly on free agents and brought in the best managers — constantly hiring, firing and re-hiring them. And he created a level of expectation so high that anything short of total victory is seen as failure.
He did right by the city and its baseball fans in myriad ways, on and off the field: Many of his public contributions are well-known, such as the $1 million he gave to the Twin Towers Fund after 9/11. But most of his considerable private charity and philanthropic support remained anonymous — at his request.
He also played a key role in boosting America’s winter Olympics teams.
But Steinbrenner’s heart was in New York. “I care about New York deeply,” he said. “I like every cab driver, every guy that stops the car and honks, every truck driver, I feed on that.”
New Yorkers, in return, are grateful to George Steinbrenner, who reminded them what victory can mean to a city.
RIP, George. New York will miss you.