While I’m in the mood to bid farewells, I hereby give Jason Giambi a personal sendoff.
He had lobster claws for hands at first base and couldn’t throw to second to save his life, but he provided some real power with his bat. And he was a great guy in the clubhouse.
One of the Yankees beat writers told me that Jason is fond of picking up strangers and taking them out for a night on the town. “He signs autographs for fans and buys them drinks,” said the writer. “And then he puts his arm around everybody and says, ‘Hey, I’ve got a limo downstairs. Where would you like to go?’ He treats the fans exactly the way you’d want a major league ballplayer to treat you.”
So, yeah. He did steroids. But he apologized and fought his way back, and now he’s with the A’s again.
He can grow the ‘stache and wear his golden thong, and he can let his hair get as long and greasy as he wants.
He wasn’t Mickey Mantle. He wasn’t even the Jason Giambi who won an MVP with the A’s. But he was a Yankee for seven years, which is long enough to care.
So to Jason I say: “Party on, dude!”
(hat tip: New Stadium Insider)
Oh, the memories….