The Ballad of Frank Crosetti

Yankee clubhouse April 4. 1962

Joe Pepitone walked into the clubhouse for the first time as a New York Yankee.  He was a bonus baby and had torn up the minor leagues so the Yanks had brought him up to the show. A Brooklyn Boy from Park Slope he was singularly unimpressed with most of the living legends in the locker room. Mickey Mantle. Whitey Ford.  Yogi Berra. They weren’t the kind of guys who impressed him.

In his part of Brooklyn he was more impressed with the wise guys who had the whole neighborhood in the palm of their hands. Guys like Carmine the Snake and the Gallo’s from down President St. Those guys would kill you as soon as look at you. So what’s the great shakes about some goober shortstop who drank milkshakes and wanted to talk about Jesus? Or even Mickey Freakin' Mantle. Mickey Mantle  wasn't gonna pay his rent.

“Hey rook come over here” some crusty old guinea called out to Joe. He looked over. The old man was dressed in a Yankee t-shirt, uniform pants and sanitary socks. It was the old shortstop who was the third base coach Frank Crosetti. The Crow had been with the Yanks since the Babe’s time. Cashed a shitpot full of World Series check. He was known as a great fungo hitter, stickler for the rules and an informer to the Manager. Nothing is worse to a guy form Brooklyn than a snitch.

“Hey Coach” Joe said. Might as well make nice on his first day. “What can I do for you pasian?” “I ain’t your paisan you stupid guinea. I am the guy who is going to make you a True Yankee. I got my eye on you. You look like a trouble maker.”

“Don’t listen to that old fart” one of the pitchers shouted from across the room. “He is gonna rat you out to Houk no matter what you do. You can never be enough of a real true blue Yankee for him. You gotta toe the line and do exactly like he says or you ain’t worthy of the uniform. Screw ‘em.”

“Shut up Bouton you Communist faggot. I can’t wait till they trade your ass” shouted the old man as spittle flew all over the clubhouse. “You disgrace the uniform you piece of crap."

”Whatever you say Crow. Just don’t push me down the stairs like you did old Tony Lazzeri because he had a girlfriend on the side. The Crow hates it when the Eye-talians step out of line.”

“I will keep it mind.” Joe shook his head and turned to his locker. He was just a rookie. He had to keep his mouth shut and nose clean.

“Hey Yo nice to meet you” said his locker mate. “Mi nombre is Hector. Hector Lopez. I am from Miami. Oh you have such big hands Yo. Come on and am going to take a soak. Maybe you want to join?”

“That’s ok pal but I got to unpack maybe later.” Joe started unpacking his duffel. This was going to be an interesting season.