Happy Holidays to all!
I'm pleased to announce the upcoming release of my latest work, Tales of the Yankee Clipper: Stories and Reflections on Joe DiMaggio. The book completes a series of Yankee biographies that my editors at Lyons Press are referring to as "The Yankee Icon Trilogy." (The other volumes pay homage to Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle.) In anticipation of the DiMaggio bio, I'll be featuring a series of excerpts here on my blog. I hope readers will consider picking up a copy of the book when it comes out in early-February.
Without further ado, let's start with one of my favorite excerpts.
Things
were much different in the game’s early days. Sports writing tended to be over-the-top.
And nearly every player was assigned a nickname by a teammate or journalist.
Some monikers were flattering. Others were not.
In
many instances, nicknames were based on a player’s skills. For example, Babe
Ruth was known as “The Sultan of Swat” while slugger Jimmie Foxx was “The
Beast.” Other less fortunate individuals were nicknamed on account of their deficits,
such as Leo Durocher (“The All American Out”) and Al Orth (“The Curveless
Wonder”). Likewise, many players with
distinguishing physical characteristics were labeled accordingly. Deaf/mute
players (yes, there have been a few) were commonly called “Dummy.” Small guys
were known as “Rabbit” and portly fellows carried the moniker of “Jumbo.”
It
logically follows that players with foreign ancestry were saddled with
ethnically based nicknames. Though many of these handles are considered pejorative
and insulting today, they were perfectly acceptable in the early part of the 20th
century. It was not unusual to see
players referred to as “Dutch,” “Frenchy,” or “Swede.”
“Dago,”
which is now considered a derogatory term for people with Italian or Spanish roots,
has 17th century maritime origins. British sailors used it (out of ignorance)
to identify foreign-speaking people with olive complexions and dark hair. In
the 1800s, the tag became more commonly used in the United States as a disparaging
phrase for Italians.
When
DiMaggio arrived in New York, the Yankees had Frankie Crosetti and Tony Lazzeri
working together around second base. According to a popular story (which may or
may not be apocryphal), Lefty Gomez was facing the Browns with one out and
runner on first in the late innings of a close game. He induced a grounder back
to the mound, but threw wildly past second base into center field, where Joe D.
was stationed. Manager Joe McCarthy was fuming and, although Gomez worked his
way out of trouble, Marse Joe decided to confront the hurler anyway.
“We
should have turned a double play. What were you thinking out there?” McCarthy growled.
“Somebody
said ‘Throw it to the Dago,’” Gomez explained. “Nobody said which Dago.”
Addressing
the entire dugout, the Yankee skipper said petulantly, “From now on, you’ll
specify which Dago, you hear me?”
This
drew stifled laughter from players on the bench.
From
that point forward, a distinction was made. Lazzeri was “Big Dago” and Crosetti
was “Little Dago.” DiMaggio became known more plainly as “Dago” or “Daig” for
short.
