Phil Rizzuto, known simply as Scooter for six decades, got his big chance with the powerhouse New York Yankees when the 30's shortstop incumbent, Frank Crosetti, struggled to a .194 batting average in 1940. Breaking in the next season with a .307 average, spectacular fielding and clever baserunning, Rizzuto sparked eight more championship teams until he faded to a .195 of his own in 1954. Baseball is full of ironies.
Conscious of his height limitation at five foot six, he ran extra hard, both on offense and defense. The way he churned those short legs earned him his nickname, while his ability to smother balls seemingly beyond his reach inspired a New York sports writer to refer to his "daily miracles in the field." Rizzuto was a master of the hit-and-run play and was highly successful at stealing a base on those infrequent occasions when the normally heavy-hitting Bronx bombers needed one.
Perhaps his outstanding offensive contribution, though, was his ability to bunt, usually for a sacrifice, but also often for a base hit. Scooter's most memorable demostration of this prowess came on a late September afternoon as the Yanks and Cleveland Indians battled for the 1951 pennant. The aging Joe DiMaggio, playing his final season, was on third base in a tie game when Rizzuto received the squeeze play sign. The anxious DiMaggio started for home a trifle early, giving Cleveland ace Bob Lemon the opportunity to throw a high hard one in an attempt to foil the squeeze. Nevertheless, the unfazed Scooter practically leaped at the pitch and put down the successful bunt that proved to be the pennant clincher.
Rizzuto's career year was 1950, when he achieved personal highs in batting, runs scored, home runs, and runs batted in. His .324 batting average marked the second and last time he would exceed the .300 mark. He was easily elected the American League's Most Valuable Player, an honor he had narrowly missed the year before.
A mainstay of Casey Stengel's record five consecutive world champions from 1949-1953, the popular Scooter never had a comfortable relationship with the late-blooming manager. It was Stengel, earlier as manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who had dismissed the diminutive Rizzuto from a tryout with the suggestion that he get a shoeshine box to make a living. Another of baseball's ironies.
The Scooter's intangible value to his team was never better demonstrated than in the third game of the 1951 World Series, when Eddie Stanky of the Giants kicked a ball out of Rizzuto's hand as he attempted a tag. Although the error cost the Yankees the game, Scooter and his teammates were sufficiently fired up by what they regarded as Stanky's over-aggressiveness to bear down and sweep the next three games for another world title.
Rizzuto spent 39 years in the Yankees broadcasting booth after his retirement. He also tried to impart his bunting skills to new generations in spring training, but he never came close to producing anyone comparable to him. He had the satisfaction of seeing his number 10 retired and of being elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in appropriate recognition of a remarkable career.
