The Stick

By Brian Donlon

The world of baseball is mourning the loss of longtime New York Yankees executive Gene "Stick" Michael, who passed away Thursday at 79. The great New York Daily News baseball writer, Bill Madden, wrote a memorable piece about Stick's baseball acumen -- well deserved since he is widely credited as the person who built the dynastic Bronx Bombers of the late 1990s. .

There is another "Stick" that not as many people remember. He was a light hitting shortstop for some very bad Yankees teams in the late 1960s and early 1970s. His double play partner was Horace Clarke, who Yankees broadcaster Phil Rizzuto once boasted "leads the league in practice swings." At third base was Jerry Kenney, who excited fans in his second at bat at old cavernous Yankee Stadium with an inside-the-park home run. He would go on to hit a total of seven home runs inside or outside the park for the rest of his career. First base was a rotation of players from Mike Heagan to Danny Cater to Ron Blomberg and for a short time the great Mickey Mantle who was nearing the end of his career.

Now every kid who was a Yankees fan idolized "The Mick." He would hit towering home runs and had a twinkle in his eye that was a magnet for young Yankee wannabes (and as we would later find out, attracting women too).

There were two Yankee fans though who admired "The Stick" more than “The Mick.” My twin brother and I got to know Gene who was a business associate of our father. In this era of billion dollar contracts, it seems hard to believe that most pro athletes before the age of free agency had "off season jobs" but they did and Gene was a sales rep with Smucker's. I remember Gene telling my dad before the 1970 season that he had just received a raise to $17,000 following the 1969 season where he hit a career high .272 -- a long throw from his .229 career average.

The paper business was my dad's stock and trade. In the pre-digital age, paper was a pretty big thing and a pretty good business. Everybody needed paper -- including the folks at Smucker's (for the uninitiated  they are the jelly guys, you know "With a name like Smucker's it has to be good.").

Smucker's needed paper for the labels on its jars, the order sheets for its salesmen, letterhead for its executives etc. Gene was a sales rep involved with it all and in his quest for paper became friendly with my Dad.

As their relationship grew, Gene would routinely invite my dad and his sons up to “The Stadium.” Dad, who had a tryout with the Pittsburgh Pirates as a third baseman, was like a kid himself on our trips to the Bronx because when we would go, it was not just to see the game. Gene would often bring us into the clubhouse and introduce us to the other players. I remember shaking the hand of first baseman/catcher Johnny Ellis and watching his huge hands swallow mine as I mumbled “nice to meet you.”

Following one Yankee win, Gene, my Dad and one of his paper company colleagues decided to go celebrate with a dinner, which my brother and I were also invited as guests as was the colleague’s son.

There was one problem though. We all took the subway to “The Stadium” – like most true Yankee fans. Gene drove a sleek, ready for the road 1967 gold Thunderbird. Back then I thought it was the coolest car I had ever seen – what kid would not? – and it was. Problem with it though was it only fit five passengers and our party totaled six.

As we stood in the player’s parking lot, Yankee all-star leftfielder Roy White exited the clubhouse. Gene yelled to him, “Hey Roy, want to go to dinner?” White stopped for a second and replied, “Sure.” The smooth switch hitter ambled over to our group and Gene had a second question for him, “Could you take one of the kids in your car?” White, who was known throughout his career for his congeniality, didn’t hesitate. He put his arm around my shoulder and said “let’s go.”

Parked across from the gold T-Bird was Roy’s even cooler red T-Bird. I climbed into the front bucket seat and talked baseball with Roy White until we arrived at the restaurant. The experience was only eclipsed by the ensuing meal where I just listened to my new driving buddy and my dad’s friend talk about the Yankees.

There would be several occasions like this. Gene also visited our house in Richmond Hill. When he came to the typical middle class Queens neighborhood he never acted “big league” he was just Gene. One night, while working as a busboy at The Inn at Richmond Hill, a local restaurant, Gene and my Dad walked in for dinner. Most of the people knew my Dad was friends with a Yankee. So of course when word spread from the dining room to the bar to the kitchen that "Stick" was in the house, a nice long line developed with patrons trying to shake his hand or get an autograph. Gene honored every request as his steak and baked potato turned ice cold.

The kids on our block were not impressed by our relationship with the shortstop. I don’t think they ever quite believed a Yankee would come to our house. Who were we? Why them? And big deal anyway because it was “The Stick” not “The Mick.” When my brother or I would talk about him, the other kids would make fun of his low batting average or his knack for pulling off the “hidden ball trick” to get a runner out (he made the play work five times in his career).

But we didn’t care. He was just Gene to us. “The Stick” was some guy we saw on TV on Channel 11.

Gene eventually was traded to Detroit, stopped working for Smucker’s and as often happens through the travels of time he and my Dad lost touch.

When Gene became an executive with the Yankees based in Florida and my Dad retired to the Sunshine State. We encouraged Dad to re-kindle his friendship. But bad health and a desire “not to bother him” Dad said, because Gene had "big responsibilities with the Yankees now" prevented him from following through with his old friend.

Two years ago, my brother was at the Bronx Bombers’ spring training in Tampa. He spotted Gene in camp and despite decades gone by walked up to his former childhood hero. It was probably odd for the now highly successful baseball lifer to see this person he only knew as a young boy in front of him as a full grown man. But despite the decades gone by Gene could not have been more welcoming.

Gene asked how my Dad was and my brother told him he had passed two years earlier. Like a true gentleman he expressed his regret and recalled their good times. Now that "Stick" has followed Gene out of our lives, I hope he and Dad meet up wherever you go in the afterlife to share a beer, a ball game and a laugh.

In the annals of Yankee history, Gene Michael may not have been the most valuable Yankee as a player, but he was the most beloved Yankee in our house. Godspeed Stick!