Joe D, star of stars
Posted: Monday March 08, 1999 12:32 PM
I grew up in a city, New Haven, Connecticut, that was largely Italian. Pizza was called "apizza" and manicotti was called "mahn-e-gotts" and the best player in baseball was called "Joe DiMaggio."
The New York Yankees in my neighborhood were -- and still are -- the team of choice, not because they won the World Series just about every year, but because they had stars whose names sounded like they were entrees in a small cafe on the Via Veneto.
There was Lazzeri at the start and then Rizzuto and Berra and Frankie Crossetti, coaching third, and Joe Pepitone and even now, hey, there's Joe Girardi behind the plate and Joe Torre in the dugout.
The star of stars, though, was Joe D. He was Sinatra in baseball shoes. He was smooth, elegant, wonderful. He married Marilyn Monroe. OK? There was never a hair out of place in any picture anyone ever took of him. He not only hit, he hit for power. He not only ran, he ran as if his feet didn't touch the ground. He never said anything wrong. He never did anything wrong.
He was a figure of far-away mystery and majesty, a cigarette in his lips as he sat in a celebrity booth at the Copacabana.
The idea that he is dead, even at age 84, after a series of physical problems, is almost incomprehensible. Joe D? Dead? I don't know if the song - Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you? - was right for the entire country, but it was perfect for my neighborhood.
Where do we look now?
Sports Illustrated senior writer Leigh Montville appears regularly on CNN/Sports Illustrated.
| 
