When I learned that Yankees owner George Steinbrenner passed away a few weeks ago, my mind instantly traveled back to the notorious summer of 1977 in New York City. I was only ten years old but "The Boss" was a most captivating -- and even intimidating -- figure to young Yankee fans like me. Inner city kids worshiped the ground that Reggie Jackson walked on. To us he was Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle rolled into a delicious eponymous chocolate bar that was layered in peanuts and caramel. With every bite we chanted, "Reg-GIE! Reg-GIE! Reg-GIE!" and danced around in blissful circles on the sandy shores of Rockaway Beach, Queens.
The memorable headlines from the Daily News and the New York Post took turns roping Jackson and Steinbrenner to the media's whipping post, but somehow true die-hard Yankee fans never came away despising either one of the larger than life sports figures. The press loved to hate Mr. October for allegedly saying he was the "the straw that stirs the drink." And they also lampooned Steinbrenner for his very public rows with manager Billy Martin. But, truthfully, as long as the Yankees delivered, which they did, I adored the famed ballclub -- warts and all.
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