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All through the summer of 1982 I had listened to Reggie's tales of the "Bronx Zoo." I can't count the number of times Jack said, "That is a living hell, playing in New York."
When Tommy John arrived in California at season's end, it became a chorus of two, as both ex-Yankees told mind-boggling stories of baseball's most famous three-ring circus. Reggie, wondering if I was considering going to New York and wanting to share his experience, I'm sure, left message after message for me all over Southern California.
I did not return his calls. It was nothing personal. I appreciated Jack's concern. I also had to make up my own mind. I was a big boy, could live with the consequences of any action I took.
Steinbrenner's rule did not scare me. I'm not a troublemaker. I just put my uniform on and do my job. I'll take criticism if I deserve it and go on from there.
On Dec. 2, one day after I was formally introduced to the New York media as George Steinbrenner's latest free-agent acquisition, I sat in a suite at the Plaza Hotel and signed a four-year, $3.7-million contract.
I vowed to stay away from trouble with Steinbrenner, to keep my mouth shut and just do my job. I figured Steinbrenner could not have any problem with that. I also knew that, if any criticism started, I could take it. I knew I would have the respect of the players, if I did my job. That was the respect that counted. Playing in New York would not change that basic belief in myself.
So I felt I understood Steinbrenner's Yankees, New York City, and all it entailed. I had been wined and dined, provided first-class accommodations and limousines. The same celebrity treatment accorded every free agent the Yankees ever signed.
It did not take long to realize what many Yankees, including Reggie and Tommy John, had learned the hard way. Once you sign, you are no longer treated like a celebrity. You are treated like a piece of trash.
My first feeling in spring training with the Yankees was that I was being watched. Steinbrenner was always on the prowl, on the field, in the clubhouse, huddling with...