By Jon Lane
“No. 15 for the Halls of Cooperstown” was one of Bobby Murcer’s words during the eulogy he delivered at Thurman Munson’s funeral on August 6, 1979. Munson’s resume was on par with the great catchers of his era, Carlton Fisk and Johnny Bench, yet Fisk and Bench are enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame and Munson is not.
Murcer, one of Munson’s closest friends on the team, found that disappointing.
“If Thurman hadn’t have been killed, he’d be in the Hall of Fame,” Murcer said in a 2007 interview. “Thurman should be in the Hall of Fame for the simple reason that he was a captain of a championship ballclub.”
A look at Munson’s credentials during an 11-season career cut tragically short.
? AL Rookie of the Year in 1970 (.302, seven home runs and 57 RBIs).
? AL MVP in 1976 (.302-17-105), making him the only Yankee to win both the Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player awards.
? Seven-time All-Star and winner of three straight Gold Gloves (1973-75)
? The first Yankee since Joe DiMaggio to hit .300 or more and drive in at least 100 runs three consecutive years in a row.
1975: .318 BA, 102 RBI
1976: .302 BA, 105 RBI
1977: .308 BA, 100 RBI
A Web site called VoteThurmanIn.com encourages people to write the National Baseball Hall of Fame Veterans Committee member to urge them to vote Munson into the National Baseball Hall of Fame.
It’s easy to follow your heart and believe that Munson belongs in Cooperstown and if he had played a few more years – injuries and all – he may have done enough to merit serious consideration. But with a heavy heart, Marty Appel, who wrote the great book MUNSON: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain, can’t in good faith endorse enshrinement on a short body of work and pure speculation over how Munson may have ended his career.
“My heart wants to say yes, but I’m a Hall of Fame purist too and I don’t think you can put a guy in that requires an asterisk and an explanation of what his numbers might have been,” Appel said. “[Baseball historian/ statistician] Bill James said a lot of guys get injured on way to Cooperstown and it never happens. Thurman was the most severe imaginable.”
Do you think Munson is a Hall of Famer? Why or why not?
By Jon Lane
I just finished reading a great new book by Marty Appel, the Yankees’ PR director in the mid-1970s. Munson: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain, hits bookstores today and is available for purchase on-line. As fate had it, Appel completed an autobiography on the Yankees’ first captain since Lou Gehrig in 1979.
On August 2 it’ll be 30 years since Thurman Munson died in a plane crash, a tragedy that to this day is remembered by Yankees players, executives and fans. I was six years old and the memory of that afternoon – the televised image of that burning airplane and my mother staring at the screen in disbelief – still resonates.
When I received my copy of the book, I showed it to my parents and casually mentioned that this August will be 30 years gone by. My mom immediately let out a short breath and a stunned look of disbelief. She was never a hardcore baseball fan, but Munson was her favorite. He was the right player for those who don’t know the game, but admire when anyone puts their heart and soul into their chosen endeavor and performs both beyond their potential and physical limitations. That, folks, is part of being a role model.
There were a lot of things fans loved about Munson, many of which are highlighted in the book based on Appel’s unique and intimate experiences inside the clubhouse. Munson was never friendly with the print media, choosing to cherish his privacy and offended each time his words were taken out of context. He wasn’t a publicity hound – a sharp contrast to many who walk around with an attitude that screams, “Look at me, I’m cool” whether others like it or not. In fact, Appel recalled a few times when Munson either refused posing with sponsors or meeting VIP guests.
The best was Old Timer’s Day, 1976. Appel was determined to take a picture of a great lineage of Yankees catching: Bill Dickey, Yogi Berra, Elston Howard and Munson. All parties were rounded up; Munson was in the players’ lounge, in his underwear, watching The Three Stooges. Appel pleaded his case before Munson begrudgingly agreed, got up in a huff and walked to his locker. When it was time to take the picture, Munson was still in front of the tube in his Fruit of the Looms.
Somehow, the photo was taken. Three years later Appel was in Munson’s home for the funeral. In an office was the picture, enlarged and framed. He neither accepted recognition nor payback, but Munson loved his teammates and his fans, and went out of his way to do anything for them. Countless and classic examples are portrayed in the book.
From a baseball perspective, this quote from Munson sums up why he was the favorite of so many:
“Look, I like hitting fourth and I like the good batting average. But, what I do every day behind the plate is a lot more important because it touches so many more people and so many aspects of the game. Thurman Munson, 8/25/75.”
Jorge Posada, who grew up a fan of George Brett and Don Mattingly, found a picture of Munson on the wall of Fenway Park’s weight room with the inscription. He took it and hung it in his locker at the old Yankee Stadium.
Job well done by Marty, a big help to YESNetwork.com last year during our coverage of Bobby Murcer’s book signing in New York. Incidentally, Sunday will be the one-year anniversary of Murcer’s passing. Something tells me the two best friends are sitting beside each other, drenched in sweat and wearing the pinstripes, watching Larry, Curly and Moe put on a live performance.