What they're saying

By Times staff writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published October 29, 2002

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The media

In New York, (Art) Howe gets bashed because he is not Piniella. Flash. Piniella is not Piniella anymore, either. Sweet Lou turned into Casey Stengel, not the "Ol' Perfessor" who won 10 pennants and seven World Series with the Yankees but the old man who lost 100 games annually with the expansion Mets. In taking the $13-million deal from the Devil Rays, Piniella basically kicked in on an early retirement job and might have cost himself a shot at reaching the Hall of Fame.

Piniella hated the Kingdome and now finds himself in Tropicana Field, another soul-less cavern.

Jack O'Connell, Hartford Courant

Piniella, a hometown hero, is the best hope for the Devil Rays. But will fans really come out to see a manager? The Rays are expected to face more financial trouble in future seasons, in part because of the expiration of advertising deals that began in their charter season of 1998.

Piniella never has been a good loser. How's he going to deal with last place after having helped the Mariners win a majors-best 300 games the last three seasons?

Phil Rogers, Chicago Tribune

The fans

It was 1975 and the Yankees had just traded Bobby Bonds to the Angels for Mickey Rivers and Ed Figueroa. I was 14, my parents had been divorced about two years and I had a little bit of an attitude. My mother had married Raymond, and I gave him no reason to believe that we would ever have any kind of relationship.

Once, he noted that he knew Lou Piniella. "Yeah right," I said, "every so and so in West Tampa knows the guy. Get me his autograph." Raymond, who worked as a judge at the dog track, noted that he saw Lou there on occasion and would do his best. About a week later, Raymond saw Lou at the track, and Lou had something better in mind.

Raymond and I drove from our home in Wellswood across town to Temple Terrace, pulling up to a modest ranch-style house. I wanted to know why we were going there, but Raymond wouldn't explain. After knocking on the door, I couldn't believe it, Lou Piniella of the YANKEES was standing on the porch in front of us. I was stunned and silenced. Lou invited us in, and we talked a bit. He gave me a ball autographed by Thurman Munson, Catfish Hunter and the rest of the 1975 team.

That gesture did more to break the ice between my mother's husband and myself that anything else that I can recall. Sweet Lou Piniella extended himself that day and I have always been grateful for it.

Wes Singletary, Tallahassee

I believe it was 1976. I was 12 years old. I attended a Yankees-Rangers game in Arlington, Texas. We got there early to see some players and maybe get an autograph. Before the game, the Yankees were warming up in the outfield. I was hanging out with some other kids along the front row on the first-base side in the outfield. A thrown ball got past Piniella and rolled to the short wall in rightfield. One of the kids leaned over and picked up the ball. As Piniella came over, we all thought he would offer to autograph the ball or something. Instead, he cussed at the kid and told him to give the ball back. I was shocked. What a jerk! I don't know what kind of manager he will be, but I will never be a fan of his

Mike Markham, Clearwater

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