Every baby boomer, baseball fan or non, loved Yogi Berra. And now he's gone. And the lament from every male baby boomer is the same, "Mom, why did you throw out my baseball cards?". With his passing they would surely have made me rich.
One more brick from the wall of my youth, gone.
But, fittingly as a memorial, Yogi Bear lives on.
As the only other poster here, I feel for ya.Mom tossed my early Superman and Batman comics, a giant trunkful. Fantastic 4, etc.. Said I had "outgrown them"?!
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Sure, just like I would have outgrown that 200 foot yacht and Perrier-Jouet champagne.
The NY Times today contained an analysis on which Yogi-ism's he actually said/invented and those whose provenance was unclear. As an opera fan, I particularly enjoyed this observation he apparently made after taking in a performance of "Tosca" at La Scala opera house: "It was pretty good. Even the music was nice." So maybe 90% of being a baseball legend is, ironically, living to be 90. And the other half is being acknowledged as a consummate player and a great guy. RIP, Lawrence Peter Berra, from a fellow Italian-American.