from the New York Daily News
By Lisa Olson
August 3, 1998
The future face of the Yankees can walk down Madison Avenue and barely get noticed, unless it's because of his ears.
"We tease him all the time about them," says pitcher David Cone. "He's a very good looking man with very large ears."
There is a reason Jorge Posada was blessed with such large ears. It's because, more often than not, he's got a telephone attached to them.
Every evening, whether Posada has spent the day catching the perfect game or making the most embarressing of bloopers, his ritual is the same. Other players get rubdowns or take long showers. Posada has gab-fests with his family back in Puerto Rico.
"If I don't call them, my mom's like, 'What's going on? What's wrong?" says Posada, the Yankees 26-year-old catcher. "What's my phone bill like? You got to ask my dad. In the thousands, easily. It doesn't matter how much it costs. I'm very close with my family, it's just the way Latin people are."
Raised in a middle-class suburb of Santurce, Posada's earliest memories are of struggling under the weight of a pink plastic bat, his father Jorge Sr. tossing pitch after pitch in the backyard. Jorge Sr. had spent several years in a Cuban prison, arrested and charged with political crimes, but once he was released the only thing on his mind was making sure his son had the freedom to chase the little white ball.
"I wasn't even born when he was put in jail. It happened such a long time ago, all the way back in the '60s," Posada says. "He never talks about it. It's something he's not proud of, something that happened because of political differences. He's just happy he's alive."
A speedy outfielder, Jorge Sr. signed a contract to play ball in America- "I think it was with the Phillies," says his son- but Cuban authorities threw him in jail before he could pursue his dream. That is why it is so important for Posada to phone home after every game, sometimes even before he's shed his catcher gear. Just because the thrills are vicarious doesn't mean the chills are any less serious.
"After I caught that perfect game," says Posada, referring, of course, to David Wells' gem back in May, "I didn't even bother wiping the sweat from my hands. All I wanted to do was talk to my dad and share it with him, share the high. He was watching it on TV and said he was a lot more nervous than I was."
"The biggest dream of a father is taking his kid to a baseball game. You see that in Yankee Stadium every day. If he can't be there with me, I want to take the game to him."
Sometimes the game Posada plays, the game his father taught him, is so full of potential, it almost makes manager Joe Torre burst with, well, fatherly pride. Splitting time behind the plate with veteran catcher Joe Girardi, Posada, a switch hitter, is batting .277 in 67 games, with 39 RBI and 13 home runs, two of which came against Seattle Friday night.
"He's not just an offensive player. He has the potential to be very good from both sides, which is priceless. He's just got to put a tag on it," says Torre.
Unfortunatly, the swing through Seattle well be equality known for Posada's two miscues, both of which made Torre laugh because they were so idiotic. Against the Mariners on Friday night, Posada, thinking there were three outs in the sixth inning when there were only two, bolted from the plate toward the dugout, prompting half the infield to follow. The next day, he got duped by the Mariners' Joey Cora into running into a double play.
"He should've buried himself in a hole after both of those plays," says Derek Jeter, Posada's best mate. "What a bonehead. He's cheap, too. He always makes me pick up the check."
The future face of the Yankees lives sparingly in an apartment on the Upper East side. He wouldn't know an Armani suit from army fatigues. The most extravagant item he's ever bought was a pair of sunglasses. He prefers dragging buddies Jeter and Luis Soho to out-of-the-way Italian restaurants where the tablecloths are checked and the beer is consumed straight out of the bottle.
"I'm lucky we don't got a kangaroo court. Otherwise I'd be out a lot of money," Posada says of his recent gaffes. "The guys won't let me forget for a long time."
His luck goes much deeper than the lack of bogus courts. One day, when he was just a quiet, lanky kid working his way through the Yankee farm system and still learning English, Girardi walked over to Posada and pulled him aside.
"I'm all worried, not knowing what to expect. But he just says, I'm Joe Girardi, let's go work out together. We went to the gym that day and talked," Posada recalls. "He said I'm going to hold the job for you, but you're going to be the future. I've never had a guy in the same position want to help me. I will never forget that."
Of course he won't. It was a fatherly sort of thing to do, the sort of thing that makes Posada feel like part of a family even though his real one is just a phone call away.
