Memories of the Mick

(Book summary from inside front cover)

If you grew up loving baseball in the fifties and sixties, chances are you wanted to "be like Mickey."  And why not?   Mickey Mantle, the iconic number 7 of the world-famous New York Yankees, was the epitome of power, grace, and class during this period.  It was a time when the Bronx Bombers ruled the standings, and their charismatic slugger captured countless schoolboys' devotion.  One was broadcaster Bob Costas, who to this day still carries around a 1957 Mickey Mantle baseball card in his wallet.  Another was Detroit pitcher Denny McLain, who during Mantle's final days as a player purposely served up a home run pitch to his childhood idol.

In this gracefully written memoir, veteran New York sportswriter Maury Allen shows us that the magic of Mickey Mantle is eternal.   "I know that if he was not the best in the game has ever seen, he was certainly the most loved," concludes Allen, who covered every one of his subject's eighteen big-league seasons.

During those years Mantle dominated the game like few before or since.  As a twenty-year-old rookie in 1951, the muscular, blond-haired kid from Commerce, Oklahoma was ballyhooed as the heir apparent to earlier Yankee heroes like Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Joe DiMaggio.  Moreover, his rare blend of speed and power had many observers describing him as a combination of Ruth and Ty Cobb.

A series of injuries and his own hard-partying lifestyle prevented him from fulfilling such lofty expectations, but even a diluted Mickey Mantle was a sensation.  Between 1951 and 1968, the switch-hitting center fielder crashed 500-foot home runs and dragged 20-foot bunts from both sides of the plate, ran down every fly ball he could reach on his heavily wrapped legs, and led the Yankees to a dozen pennants and seven world championships.  Along the way he hit 536 home runs, plus a record 18 more in World Series play; appeared in 20 All-Star Games; won the Triple Crown in 1956, a season in which he hit .365, slammed 52 homers, and knocked in 130 runs; and earned three Most Valuable Player awards.  He was named to the Hall of Fame in 1974, the first year he was eligible.

While giving Mantle's achievements proper due, Allen goes beyond the numbers to reveal glimpses of the man that only an eyewitness like himself could share.  For instance, Allen details Mantle's relationship with his father, whose premature death accounted for a fatalistic view of life; his regard for Case Stengel, the pixieish manager who became a surrogate dad; and his friendships with such players as Billy Martin, Whitey Ford, and Roger Maris.  The presence of Allen, who had a sometimes tempestuous relationship with his subject, is evident throughout.   The writer recalls Mantle glaring at him one day in the batting cage. "You piss me off just standing there," he snarled at Allen.

The relationship improved as Mantle mellowed, so that by the time of his death in 1995 the ballplayer and sportswriter could be considered friends.  Although Allen's book is a heartfelt tribute, it is not a valentine.   He writes candidly of the demons Mantle faced, of his uneasiness at being a national hero, and of is conviction that, like his father and uncles, he would die young.   Most poignantly, Allen writes of Mantle's long, but eventually triumphant, struggle with alcoholism and of his subsequent losing battle with liver cancer.  Whether he is enjoying the high life or facing his own mortality, Mantle's true character - gritty, self-effacing, fun-loving - shines through on every page.

Enhanced by scores of vintage photographs by former official team photographer Bob Olen, Memories of the Mick is sure to stir the collective memory of a generation of fans that continues to regard the Yankees' number 7 as number one in its pantheon of baseball heroes.