Bobby Richardson’s fondest Yogi memories: One came after brutal Series loss

“From his expression I knew the ball was out of the park and the game was over,’’ Richardson told The Post Wednesday from his home in South Carolina, remembering Yogi, who died at the age of 90 on Tuesday.

“In the clubhouse,’’ recalled Richardson, who was named the MVP of the Series, “Yogi was not emotional, [Mickey] Mantle was. Mantle was actually crying because he thought we had a much better team and should have won.

“Yogi was already saying, ‘We’ll get them next year.’

“And we did, we won the next two years, world championships.’’

Richardson lovingly remembered Berra as a teammate and later his manager, as a caring man who looked ahead.

“Yogi was with me my whole career, both as a teammate and a manager, and let me just say as a player he was at the top of the rung, three times American League Most Valuable Player Awards.’’

To this day, Richardson, 80, does not understand why the 99-63 Yankees fired Yogi after the Cardinals beat the Yankees in seven games in the 1964 World Series.

“On the plane flying home Yogi sat down with my wife Betsy and I and he said, ‘Tomorrow I am going to ask the Yankees for a two-year contract.’ Most people had one-year contracts at that time,’’ Richardson said.

“My wife spoke up and said, ‘If Bobby hadn’t booted the ground ball that loaded the bases for Ken Boyer to hit the grand slam [in Game 4], we would have won the Series.’

“Yogi laughed a little bit and then the next day he was fired.

“I didn’t understand it at that time and I’m not sure I ever will. I think it was a move that hurt the Yankees over a long period of time.’’

Through the years, Richardson kept in close touch with Yogi.

“We knew the last couple of weeks that he was going downhill,’’ Richardson said. “We were not surprised but we really hated to receive that call.’’

Richardson’s granddaughter Amy graduated Columbia University and is friends with Berra’s granddaughter Lindsay.

After leaving the Yankees at the age of 30, Richardson became a hugely successful coach at South Carolina.

“Whitey Ford’s son was my switch-hitting shortstop, Phil Rizzuto’s son played for me and I told Yogi, whose son was going to decide what to do after high school, I said, ‘You going to send him to play for me’ and he said, ‘No, he’s going right to the big leagues.’

“And then of course, [Dale] played for his dad later on.’’

The Yankees and Mets came to play exhibition games at South Carolina. Yogi managed the Mets.

“I drove the bus to pick up the Mets at the airport,’’ Richardson recalled. “Tom Seaver was on that club and they came over and we were going to play three innings against the Mets, three innings against the Yankees and then they were going to play each other under the lights. We had 15,000 people.

“Yogi said, ‘Something is not right, you’re a college team, you can’t compete, I’m going to pitch for the Mets to your team and I’ll throw it right in there,’ and we beat the Mets. Yogi was pitching batting practice to our team and what a great opportunity for us to look good that Yogi would even think of that.

“For so many years they kept coming and the next year we finished second in the nation for the College World Series. We were 51-6, Texas beat us in the final game. But I consider all that to Yogi.

“Yogi was an American icon. He crossed all boundaries. He represented all aspects of Americanism. Everybody loved him.

“His roommate was Dr. Bobby Brown,’’ noted Richardson. “He’d be reading medical books and Yogi would be reading comic books, and Yogi would always say to Bobby, ‘How’d your story come out?’ ’’

Yes, there was only one Yogi Berra.

It meant everything to see Yogi Berra smile: Willie Randolph
WILLIE RANDOLPH, NEW YORK POST
When All-Star second baseman Willie Randolph first came to the Yankees in 1976, Yogi Berra was a coach. The two quickly became buddies, the Hall of Fame catcher later became Randolph’s manager, and their friendship grew through the years, with Yogi often visiting Willie when Randolph became Mets manager. This past summer, Willie was named co-chairman of Yogi’s golf tournament, along with Ron Guidry.

One of my favorite memories of Yogi is from my rookie year.

The Yankees were in Chicago, and the players were starting to congregate in the hotel lobby at around 1 o’clock.

Yogi asked if I wanted to share a cab.

Yogi always called me “Shorty.”

I’d say, “Shorty? I’m taller than you.’’ But that’s what he called me. That was my little nickname, and it stuck.

It was a long ride to Comiskey. We get to the ballpark, pull up out front, kids are there looking for autographs, we jump out — and next thing I know, Yogi takes off. He’s gone.

So I have to scrounge in my pocket to pay for the cab, a rookie paying for the cab.

I still laugh about that to this day, but I’ve often thought about that ride and spending those 25 minutes in a cab with Yogi as a rookie and say, “I would have paid $200 for that cab ride. What a blessing.’’

I was 21 when I came to the Yankees, and Yogi was an icon. It’s Yogi Berra, man. Guys like Joe DiMaggio, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and Mickey Mantle, that’s the way I always viewed Yogi. He was part of that legacy.

Yogi was always with Elston Howard. They were like twins. They were always together. And I loved Elston just as much as I loved Yogi. If you were talking to Elston, Yogi was right next to him.

We just formed this bond, and I was always picking Yogi’s brain for advice. He had such a calm demeanor, and I always appreciated that. And as a rookie, I was impressed with the fact that he gave me time and talked to me.

He was such a treasure. He knew baseball in and out.

Yogi kept the game simple, and that’s what I always liked about him. When we spoke about hitting, it was basic stuff: “See the ball, hit the ball, think through the middle. Take the ball to the hands.’’

He was a big eye-hand coordination guy, and I was that way. And Yogi was one of the best bad-ball hitters of all time, so he always had great eye-hand coordination.

Everything Yogi taught me was easy because it was always simple. It wasn’t complicated, and there is a genius in that. He would say little things about your approach that would make it click for you. He had a way of communicating with you because he had been there, done that, and he would always get me back in my rhythm.

He had a way to get me back through the middle. He’d say, “Hey, Shorty, your hands are here or your hands are there. You’re jumping out too quick on the ball, and I was like, ‘OK.’ And it was bam! Right where I needed to be.

That’s the way he was with life too, kept it simple, always upbeat. I was talking to my wife, Gretchen, about him this morning and she spent a lot of time with him, too, and like she said, “Yogi never had a bad word to say about anybody.’’

He was always kidding, too. He’d shake your hand and grab it so hard and have you on your knees, and you’d say, “Yogi, what are you doing? You’re breaking my fingers, man.”

And he’d just laugh at you with that deep laugh, “Ha, ha, ha.’’

His hands were like meat cleavers. I’d be like, ‘Oh, man.’’

In some ways, he reminded me of Zim [Don Zimmer], that walking baseball encyclopedia. If you sat next to him, you could ask him anything. It was just such an honor to be with him to break bread or just have a chat with the great Yogi Berra.

I was from the era where you were seen and not heard, but Yogi always gave me time. He made you feel comfortable, and that friendship continued through the years.

When I was managing the Mets, I used to think it was so cool that when it was the Subway Series, he would always come over to my office to visit with me.

I would say, “Make sure George [Steinbrenner] doesn’t know you’re here. I don’t want to get you in trouble.’’ That was always my concern.

And he’d say, “Shorty, I don’t give a crap.’’

He’d stay for 15, 20 minutes and he would always look out for me. He’d say, “Be yourself. When you make a decision, make sure it’s your decision and it comes from your heart. That’s the way to lead.’’

It gave me goose bumps just to sit with him, and right now, I’m getting goose bumps again thinking about it.

I’m going to miss him. After I heard the news, I couldn’t even sleep. I started thinking about my man, going back and the memories and stuff like that. I was at his birthday party this year, and I just wanted to tell him I love him, and at his golf tournament, it was such an honor for me take on the co-chairman’s role with Gator (Ron Guidry) for next year.

I was hoping so much Yogi would be there. We are all going to keep it going for Yogi.

This year, it was so special to be with him when he came to the dinner and to sit with him at his table.

Yogi didn’t say much, but I got a chance to see him smile.

That was all worth it. It made my whole year just to see Yogi smile again.

— As told to Kevin Kernan

Berra, who played 18 years with the Yankees and is baseball's all-time leader in World Series games, at-bats and hits, died Tuesday of natural causes at an assisted living facility in New Jersey, according to Dave Kaplan, the director of the Yogi Berra Museum.

"Yogi Berra's legacy transcends baseball," Yankees owner Hal Steinbrenner said in statement Wednesday morning.

Berra's death came 69 years to the day of his major league debut -- a career that began with a home run at the original Yankee Stadium.

"Though slight in stature, he was a giant in the most significant of ways through his service to his country, compassion for others and genuine enthusiasm for the game he loved. He has always been a role model and hero that America could look up to," Steinbrenner said. "While his baseball wit and wisdom brought out the best in generations of Yankees, his imprint in society stretches far beyond the walls of Yankee Stadium. He simply had a way of reaching and relating to people that was unmatched. That's what made him such a national treasure."

In his later years, Berra followed the path of former teammates Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle as the most revered former Yankee and a name that transcended the ballpark.

"To those who didn't know Yogi personally, he was one of the greatest baseball players and Yankees of all time," retired Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter wrote on The Players' Tribune, a website founded by Jeter. "To those lucky ones who did, he was an even better person."

Success on and off the field

Berra was an indelible image in the minds of a generation of baby boomer baseball fans and their parents -- but there was much more to his career and personal life.

There were his years of consistent and clutch hitting in Yankee pinstripes; his development into a top-notch defensive catcher; his seasons managing the Yankees and Mets; his enormous popularity during and after his career; his success as a product pitch man and entrepreneur; and, of course, his penchant for "Yogi-isms," those unintentionally ironic phrases that fractured the English language yet often made sense when the words were re-examined.

"Yogi Berra's character, talent, courage, extraordinary experiences and inimitable way with words made him a universally beloved figure in baseball and beyond," Commissioner Rob Manfred said in a statement Wednesday.

For decades, scratchy highlight films featured Berra in three memorable scenes from the fabled Yankees-Brooklyn Dodgers October rivalry during an era many believe was baseball's golden age.

In Game 1 of the 1955 World Series, Berra was the catcher when Jackie Robinson stole home in the eighth inning. Berra was so livid he jumped up and down and screamed at the umpire, certain his tag had beaten Robinson's slide.

In Game 7, Berra sliced a fly ball down the leftfield line that appeared to be a certain game-tying double. But Sandy Amoros made a spectacular reaching, running catch in the corner and turned it into a double play. The fielding gem helped the Dodgers win their only World Series as Brooklyn's team.

In Game 5 of the 1956 Series, Berra's uniform No. 8 is clearly visible as the catcher leaped into pitcher Don Larsen's arms after the only perfect game in postseason history. "It was the most excited I ever saw him," Larsen told Newsday in 1996.

People frequently joked about Berra's appearance. He was short and squat. He had large ears and a goofy grin he flashed often. He may have looked to some like a cartoon character, but he was deadly serious about baseball. He did not have blazing speed, but his feet, his bat, his reflexes and his mind were quick and nimble.

Outfielder as well as catcher

He was a capable outfielder early and late in his career, and a defensive stalwart at catcher during his prime years.

Berra had a strong, accurate arm, knowledge of opposing hitters and a deep understanding of the game that inspired confidence in his pitchers.

Most importantly, Berra was a superb lefthanded hitter. He was tough to pitch to because he could hit pitches in and out of the strike zone, and tough to defend because he could spray the ball to all fields.

"I can't deny that I've always been a bad-ball hitter. I like to swing at anything that looks good to me, as long as I can reach it," Berra said in his autobiography "Yogi" written with Ed Fitzgerald. "A bad pitch isn't a bad pitch anymore when you hit it into the seats."

Opponents feared Berra most in clutch situations. Overshadowed in the Yankees' batting order by DiMaggio or Mantle throughout his career, he was no easy touch. "Berra is the toughest man in baseball, when the game is up for grabs," veteran manager Paul Richards once said. "He is by far the toughest man in the league in the last three innings."

He batted .285 over 18 seasons with 358 home runs, plus another 12 in World Series play, was voted to 15 All-Star teams and was named most valuable player of the American League three times. "He was a great clutch hitter and a smart catcher," shortstop Tony Kubek, a teammate from 1957 to 1964, wrote in his book "Sixty-One." "Basically, Yogi played like a guy who had tremendous insight into the game."

So it was no coincidence that the Yankees won 10 world championships during his career, which culminated with his election to the Hall of Fame in 1972. "Not bad for a kid from The Hill," Berra said of his Cooperstown enshrinement in a 1999 interview.

He was referring to the poor, Italian section of St. Louis, where Lawrence Peter Berra was born on May 12, 1925, and raised. The Hill was a sports-mad neighborhood where Berra and dozens of kids, including boyhood friend Joe Garagiola, a future major league catcher and announcer, played ball year-round.

"Yogi was always the one you wanted with you. He was the best at baseball, the best at football, even the best at pitching horseshoes," Garagiola recalled in "The Wit and Wisdom of Yogi Berra," written by Phil Pepe.

Berra and his friends went to the movies one day, and the short subject was a travelogue about India. The film showed a Hindu mystic known as a yogi, who was sitting with his arms folded and his knees crossed, looking sad. One of Berra's friends thought the character "looked just like I used to look, sitting down after a ballgame," Berra told John Tullius in the book "I'd Rather Be a Yankee." From then on, Lawrence Peter Berra became Yogi Berra.

And soon after, he became a Yankee farmhand. His American Legion manager recommended that a Yankee coach who lived in St. Louis, Johnny Schulte, check out Berra, which eventually led to him signing for a $500 bonus.

Served in Navy during WWII

He joined the Yankees' farm team in Norfolk, Virginia, for the 1943 season where he showed promise. He spent 1944 and 1945 in the Navy, serving at D-Day. In 1946, he had a terrific season playing for the Yankees' Newark farm team in the International League, before the Yankees promoted him late that season.

Berra became a Yankee for good beginning in the 1947 season. He was a raw backup catcher and adequate outfielder in '47 and '48. During those two seasons, he learned the intricacies of catching from Yankees coach Bill Dickey, who had retired after the 1946 season. By 1949, he was the team's regular catcher, wearing Dickey's old No. 8, which was later retired in honor of both players.

"Berra improved more as a defensive catcher . . . than any catcher I ever saw. He became one of the all-time great catchers," Dickey told Anthony Connor in the book "Voices From Cooperstown."

Berra was one of 12 Yankees who played for manager Casey Stengel on consecutive World Series winners from 1949 to 1953. He batted a career high .322 with 124 RBIs in 1950 and won the first of his three MVP honors in 1951 when he batted .294 with 27 homers and 88 RBIs. He also won MVP honors in '54 and '55.

In 1956, Berra hit .298 with 30 HRs and 105 RBI. He blasted three homers to help the Yankees win the final Brooklyn-New York World Series. Though Yogi's '56 season was overshadowed by Mantle's Triple Crown and Larsen's perfect game, he called the latter "the highlight of my career. It's never happened before or since. The glove I used in that game is the only thing I saved from my career. It's in my museum."

Berra remained a productive hitter until his playing days with the Yankees ended after the 1963 season. He managed the team to the 1964 pennant but was fired when the Yankees lost the Series to St. Louis.

Berra rejoined his old boss Stengel as a Mets coach in 1965, even playing four games for New York's young National League team. He was promoted to manager in 1972 and won a come-from-behind pennant in 1973, making him only the third man in history to that point to have managed a pennant-winner in both leagues.

"Yogi Berra was a baseball legend who played a key part in our history," the Mets said in a statement Wednesday. "He was kind, compassionate and always found a way to make people laugh. With us he was a player, coach and managed the 1973 'Ya Gotta Believe' team to the National League pennant. Our thoughts and prayers are with his family."

Berra was fired by the Mets in 1975 and returned to the Yankees as a coach under manager Billy Martin in 1976. He managed the Yankees for a second time in 1984 and for 16 games in 1985 before being fired by owner George Steinbrenner.

The proud and loyal Berra was so outraged by Steinbrenner's act that he refused to come to Yankee Stadium for 14 years. He did return to coaching with Houston from 1986 to 1989, but appeared miscast wearing the rainbow-burst Astros' uniform of that era.

Two sons played pro sports

Off the field, his life was always an unqualified success. He had a long and happy marriage to Carmen Berra that produced two sons, Dale, who played major league baseball, and Tim, who played in the National Football League. Carmen died in 2014.

"While we mourn the loss of our father, grandfather and great-grandfather, we know he is at peace with Mom," the Berra family said in a statement. "We celebrate his remarkable life, and are thankful he meant so much to so many. He will truly be missed."

During his playing days, Berra showed shrewd business sense by rising to the presidency of the company that made Yoo-Hoo, a popular chocolate soft drink. He had successful ventures in bowling alleys, racquetball clubs and product endorsements, earning millions more than he ever did as a player. He opened the Yogi Berra Museum on the campus of Montclair State University in New Jersey in 1998, another rousing success story.

"He found good advice and he took it," second baseman/teammate Bobby Richardson said of Berra's financial acumen.

But many family members and friends felt his life was incomplete without a return to Yankee Stadium. Prospects appeared grim for most of the 1990s, but as Berra himself once said in a classic Yogi-ism, "It ain't over 'til it's over."

With the help of Yankees broadcaster Suzyn Waldman, who intervened, Steinbrenner and Berra reconciled in the winter of 1999, setting the stage for one of the most memorable days in the history of the franchise.

On July 18, 1999, Yogi Berra Day at Yankee Stadium attracted a crowd of nearly 42,000 who witnessed the reunion of Berra with Yankee teammates like Phil Rizzuto, Whitey Ford, Larsen, Gil McDougald, Richardson and even a player he managed from 1984 to 1985, the popular Don Mattingly.

In the game that followed, David Cone pitched a perfect game against Montreal, conjuring up images of the Larsen masterpiece that Berra had caught 43 years earlier. "Nothing bad happens when Yogi Berra is around," Yankees manager Joe Torre said that day.

Kubek echoed those sentiments when he wrote in his 1987 book: "The fact is that people just like Yogi. I don't know if it's because of his nickname, his looks, or because of the things he says . . . I only had to be around Yogi for a few minutes to be reminded that he remains one of the most popular men in sports."

Funeral arrangements had not been announced. The Yogi Berra Museum & Learning Center will host a news conference Thursday to honor Berra. Members of Berra's family, and representatives of the museum and Major League Baseball are expected to attend.

Berra immediately took over as manager of the Yankees, leading the team to the 1964 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals. He lasted one season in that role, but moved across town to become a coach with Mets in 1965. Berra became manager of the Mets in 1972 and managed the team to the 1973 World Series.

His playing career had an important impact on him as a manager. Berra was a players' manager long before the term was popularized.

Berra wasn't a wordsmith, Jon Matlack, a starting pitcher on the 1973 Mets said.

"He was a very laid back, relaxed manager who pretty much said, 'Here are the bats and balls, boys. Go play, make me proud,' " Matlack said. "Under that environment he allowed people to flourish. He created an environment where you wanted to excel rather than you were under the gun to excel."

That started in 1964 when he was a rookie manager with the Yankees, Joe Pepitone recalled.

"When Yogi gave his speech he said, 'Let's go get 'em,' " Pepitone said. "It wasn't a long speech like some of these college grads would say. He didn't talk in that type of language. He just played the game like it was played."

Some of the Mets later learned the same when Berra managed them to the World Series in 1973.

"He obviously didn't come out with those Yogi-isms in the locker room," said Ed Kranepool, who was a first baseman and outfielder on the 1973 Mets. "He was very serious talking baseball."

Berra had a successful season with the 1964 Yankees, finishing 99-63 and capturing the American League pennant. But Berra was fired after losing a seven-game World Series to the Cardinals.

"He was the one manager that knew me better than anybody, so when I came in feeling [ill] he said, 'You're playing, you're playing,' " said Pepitone, who batted .281 with 28 home runs and 100 RBIs in 1964. "I had my best year."

The Mets finished 82-79 under Berra in 1973, winning the NL East by a game and a half. The Mets were under .500 until late September.

"He was basically thanking us for his job," Matlack said. "He thought had he not turned it around that he potentially could have been fired."

The Mets upset the heavily favored Cincinnati Reds in the National League Championship Series, but lost to the Oakland A's in seven games in the World Series.

"They threw away the mold in regards to Yogi," Tom Seaver, who went 19-10 and won his second NL Cy Young Award in 1973, said in a statement. "He was one of a kind. He loved the game. As a manager, he never tried to complicate things. He let his players play. He respected what you did on the field. He was an utter delight to be around."

The slogan for the 1973 Mets was "Ya Gotta Believe." The players put their trust in Berra.

"He was a true gentleman," said Jerry Koosman, a starter for the 1973 Mets. "As a manager he was very, very reassuring. When things were bad, he always stayed positive."

Berra was fired by the Mets in 1975. He didn't manage again until 1984 when he returned to the Yankees.

Berra had a lasting impact on the players he managed.

"He did so much good for so many people in this world," said Rusty Staub, who played for Berra on the 1973 Mets. "Every time I think of Yogi I have a smile on my face. That's the effect he had on people."