It must be over

Nine weeks ago, news organizations said Yogi Berra had died. I’ve been waiting for a retraction, but it has not yet been made.

Berra was more than a Hall of Fame, All Star player. He represented his generation. He was the man who went to work every day, did his best, and looked to tomorrow when maybe he would do better.

More than any other player, Berra was the New York Yankee on a team of DiMaggio, Mantle, Ford and Stengel.

On June 24, 1962, Berra caught all 22 innings of the Yankees’ game with the Tigers in Detroit. In 10 at bats, he had three hits and one run batted in. Twenty-two innings behind the plate, squatting, standing, walking to the mound, three times a base runner. He was 37 years old.

An amazing statistic -- In 1950, Berra hit 28 home runs, drove in 124 runs, played in 159 games, scored 116 runs … and struck out 12 times. Twelve strikeouts in 159 games.

I saw Berra on the field in Arlington Stadium on April 9, 1980, the day before Opening Day. The Yankees were working out that afternoon. I got home from the Fort Worth Star-Telegram just after 3 p.m., got Michael, who was almost 3 years old, and drove 10 minutes to the stadium. Michael and I sat in the second row behind the Yankees dugout. Berra was on the field, taking grounders at third base. He was around 55 at the time. He short-hopped every grounder hit to him.