The Pride of the Yankees

Thurman Munson: 1947-1979

He was a sepia-tinted photograph in a color-television age, a throwback to the time when ballplayers wore baggy wool flannel uniforms and played cards on lonesome train rides through the night. His square shape and scowling countenance served him poorly off the field. He could deliver the winning hit but not the winsome quote, and thus suffered in the game of personality hype, the game that, sadly, often seems to count most.

Last week Yankee Catcher Thurman Munson, 32, was killed in a plane crash near Canton, Ohio, and quickly received the encomiums he so craved in life. "Probably the best clutch hitter in baseball," said Los Angeles Dodgers Manager Tom Lasorda. "A wonderful, enormously likable guy, and a truly great ballplayer," said Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn.

The Yankees will retire his number 15 and place a plaque in his honor on the centerfield wall. But perhaps the greatest tribute of all came from 51,151 fans in Yankee Stadium, who cheered his memory for ten minutes before the team's first game without him.

Munson died when his twin-engine Cessna Citation I jet crashed 700 feet short of a runway at Akron-Canton air port, barely ten miles from his home. The accident occurred as Munson practiced a series of "touch and go" takeoffs and landings. A licensed pilot since 1977, he bought the seven-seat, $1.2 million jet and was certified to fly it only last month.

An Ohio boy who was All-America at Kent State, Munson was part of the Yankees' long and impressive catching tradition--Bill Dickey, Yogi Berra and Elston Howard. Munson became a major leaguer after only 99 games in the minors. He justified the Yankees' gamble by hitting .302 and winning Rookie of the Year honors in 1970. His best seasons were 1975 (.318 with 102 runs batted in), 1976 (.302 and 105 RBIS) and 1977 (.308 and 100 RBls). He was named to the All-Star team seven times, batted over .300 in World Series and playoff competition, and was voted the American League's Most Valuable Player in 1976. A classic field general, Munson handled pitchers masterfully and cut down base stealers with forbiddingly quick throws.

Though several other Yankees enjoyed more public acclaim, many players felt that Munson was the team's linchpin. "He exemplified a leader, and that is why he was captain," explained Outfielder Lou Piniella. "He played hard, he played tough, he played hurt." Arm troubles and creaky knees caused Munson's run production to fall off sharply after 1977.

Munson begrudged the ink and air time given to players he considered less talented, especially Boston Red Sox Catcher Carlton Fisk, who stole the spotlight from him with an outstanding rookie season in 1972. "For a while it was like I didn't exist," Munson later said. He could be surly in public, and never bothered with the art of image making. He conducted a celebrated feud with George Steinbrenner when the Yankee owner signed Reggie Jackson to a more lucrative contract than his. Munson's salary was finally renegotiated; he signed a four-year pact averaging $420,000 annually through 1981--but he never forgot that his boss "embarrassed" him.

On several occasions, Munson asked to be traded to the Indians so he could be closer to his wife Diane and their three children in Canton, 50 miles south of Cleveland. He became a pilot so that he could jet home just for the night after a game. Flying seemed to give him the inner peace he found elusive in the klieg light jungle of baseball. "You get up there," he said once, "and nobody asks you any questions."

Two weeks ago, Munson acknowledged that injuries would prevent him from remaining a catcher full time, but he said that he wanted to continue playing, mostly because of his son Michael, 4. "I want to play long enough for him to understand and appreciate what I have accomplished," he said. "If I have three or four more good years, I might have the kind of statistics that could get me in the Hall of Fame."

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