9001290774 DETROIT FREE PRESS 900801 Wednesday, August 01, 1990 METRO EDITION

SPT

1E MITCH ALBOM SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1F Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press BOSS STEINBRENNER FIT LIKE GLOVE IN NEW YORK As soon as I heard George Steinbrenner had been banished from running the Yankees, I immediately called a friend in New York. "Are you OK?" I asked. "OK?" he said. "I'm delirious! He's gone at last! No more George! Hooray!" "Well, all right," I said. "But call me if you start to feel bad." "Bad? Why should I feel bad? George is gone. I'll never feel bad again, hee hee." I hung up, but of course, I know better. Pretty soon, maybe a month, maybe a year, the Big Apple will fall into a funk. The people there will become depressed. They will miss The Boss. They may even call for his return. Deep down, they need him, because every New Yorker needs someone to hate. It goes with the territory, like Mace. Steinbrenner was always perfect for the job, because he was ruthless, arrogant and egotistical, and therefore reminded many New Yorkers of someone they knew, most likely a relative. And when Steinbrenner wanted something, he went out and bought it in the finest tradition of New York City. He purchased Catfish Hunter, Reggie Jackson, Dave Winfield, Rickey Henderson. He may have overpaid by a few million here or there, but it didn't bother him anymore than it bothers the average New Yorker to pay $1900 a month for an apartment the size of a bookcase. And, of course, like most New Yorkers, Steinbrenner was always in a mad rush. Things could never come soon enough. My favorite story is the time he phoned the apartment of his public relations director, whose roommate answered the phone. "Where's my PR director?" Steinbrenner barked. "He's not here,"' said the roomate. "Go find him, or you're fired." The roommate laughed. "Fired? I don't even work for you." "Then I'll buy the company you work for," Steinbrenner said, "and then I'll fire you." He wasn't always this unpopular So it is no surprise that Steinbrenner generated such a healthy hatred. Or that the headlines in two Big Apple tabloids Tuesday -- the day after Commissioner Fay Vincent forced him to resign as Yankees general partner because of his $40,000 payment to known gambler Howard Spira -- read, with seeming glee: "YOU'RE OUT!" Boy. That's good hatred. Of course, George wasn't always this unpopular. Back in the '70s, when he was buying every player in sight and building a team of free-swinging, hard-pitching egomaniacs, the fans in New York were all behind him. They enjoyed the way he made the other baseball owners look like grandmothers trying to unzip their change purses. It reminded them that New York was the biggest and brashest city in the world, even if you can't use a bathroom there without buying a meal. New Yorkers even nicknamed Steinbrenner "The Boss," a tag usually reserved for mafia kings and Bruce Springsteen. Back then, nobody seemed too upset that Steinbrenner made illegal contributions to Richard Nixon's campaign fund, a crime that carried a maximum penalty of 55 years in prison, or that he was fined by then-commissioner Bowie Kuhn for tampering with other team's players. That's because the Yankees were winning. In New York, there is a difference between being self-centered, big-mouthed and winning, versus self-centered, big-mouthed and losing. It is the difference between applause and a bag of manure. It is no coincidence that the day New York celebrated the fall of King George, the Yankees owned the worst record in baseball. Will Hank carry the torch? With his payment to Spira and the lies that followed, Steinbrenner went from contemptible to flat-out stupid. It was his downfall. But, to be honest, prior to this Spira nonsense, George basically did things that a lot of New Yorkers would do if they had money -- particularly those who wear baseball caps to bed and spend their last dime trying to get through to a midnight sports talk show. These people don't like the way a guy plays, they scream "Trade him!" Steinbrenner did. They get tired of a manager, they say "Fire him!" Steinbrenner did. They see a good player on another team, they say "I wish we could buy that guy." Steinbrenner did. And now, Steinbrenner is gone, and they are cheering in the Big Apple. But wait and see what happens if his spot is filled by some dull, plodding starched-shirt type. Personally, I am worried about New York. First they lost Leona Helmsley. Then Donald Trump became a shadow of his contemptible self. Even Ed Koch is off the list, since you should at least be in office to be truly hated in politics. Soon, New Yorkers may be walking the streets with such a surplus of hatred, they could explode. Their teeth will gnash and their fists will clench and then -- boom! Nothing left but a subway token. Of course, there may be a way around this. Steinbrenner's son, Hank, is one of the candidates to take over his father's position. And while Vincent promises Steinbrenner will not be allowed to puppeteer the Yankees through his child, most New Yorkers figure deep down he'll find a way. After all, the alternative is a stranger takes over, acts nicely, speaks politely, and treats people with respect. And in New York, what fun is that?