from the New York Times

March 9, 1999

By BUSTER OLNEY

TAMPA, Fla. -- They began paying tribute to Joe DiMaggio here early Monday morning, fans old and young visiting the pinstriped plaque erected in his name outside Legends Field, many of them wearing Yankees caps. A few brought flowers, others took pictures, some prayed.

The Yankees players, too, honored the man introduced as "the greatest living ballplayer" at Yankee Stadium every year. Before Monday night's exhibition game with Philadelphia, they emerged from their dugout, hats off, for a moment of silence, DiMaggio's No. 5 sewn onto the left sleeve of each uniform. Rob Cucuzza, the Yankees' equipment manager, had brought 300 of the emblems to Florida, just in case; he had hoped he would not have to use them.

When a highlight reel was shown on the video scoreboard, the fans all stood before anybody asked them to. "It's a sad day here," David Cone said.

Said Derek Jeter: "There was a mystique about him, the way he played."

Said George Steinbrenner: "It was the class and dignity with which he led his life that made him a part of us."

Jeter learned of DiMaggio's death when the news crawled across the bottom of his television screen. To Jeter and to most of the other Yankees, DiMaggio was royalty who passed through the clubhouse once or twice a year: you never initiated conversation with him.

You could joke and laugh and swap stories with Whitey Ford and Reggie Jackson and other Yankee greats; with DiMaggio, most of the Yankees remained silent until he spoke to them. Jeter, Darryl Strawberry, Cone and others mentioned how they never had the intestinal fortitude to ask DiMaggio for an autograph; you heard stories, Andy Pettitte said, about how he refused autograph requests. Cone, in fact, purchased a dozen balls autographed by DiMaggio, rather than ask.

But DiMaggio repeatedly surprised them. Someone apparently mentioned to DiMaggio that right fielder Paul O'Neill had a collection of autographed bats, and before an Old-Timers' Day game, DiMaggio approached O'Neill and asked, "You have that bat for me to sign?" That bat, O'Neill said, is encased in his basement, "and always will be."

DiMaggio came face-to-face with Cone once, told him he had seen him pitch on many occasions. "Sometimes you look unhittable," said DiMaggio, "and sometimes you look very hittable."

Cone laughed Monday, recalling the exchange. "I didn't know what to make of it," said Cone. "I walked away with my tail between my legs."

Andy and Laura Pettitte attended a team dinner following the 1996 World Series victory and DiMaggio happened by, looking for a place to sit. He took the chair next to the pitcher and chatted amiably throughout the meal. "He really was very nice," Pettitte said. DiMaggio once paused to compliment Bernie Williams, the latest heir in the Yankees' long line of superlative center fielders. The praise stunned Williams, so much so that he does not recall anything else DiMaggio said to him.

David Wells, traded to Toronto less than three weeks ago, may have had the most extensive contact with DiMaggio. Before DiMaggio was honored before the final game of last season, on Joe DiMaggio Day, he congratulated Wells for his perfect game. Wells was so fidgety during the game that Manager Joe Torre facetiously suggested that he go bother DiMaggio -- and Wells did, taking the elevator to Steinbrenner's office.

Wells joined DiMaggio, Phil Rizzuto and Steinbrenner, gabbing and laughing. Wells asked DiMaggio -- "Mr. DiMaggio," Wells called him -- for an autograph and the Yankees' legend obliged him. "When he showed up at the Stadium, George treated him like a king," Wells said today. "He'd roll out the red carpet, and rightfully so."

Before he threw out the first ball on Opening Day or on Old-Timers' Day, DiMaggio shook hands with players in the dugout, then strolled onto the field, ball in hand. O'Neill was struck by the way DiMaggio moved in his 80's, his stride even and graceful. You could see what a wonderful athlete he was, O'Neill said. Not until recent years did DiMaggio concede to age and move forward from the mound to shorten his toss to the catcher, and his throw usually was right on target; some of the Yankees were sure that he practiced.

After throwing the first ball, he would move forward and shake hands with the catcher -- Joe Girardi last April -- and say, "Good luck." And then he walked off steadily into the dugout, disappearing.

The daylight waned. Approaching DiMaggio's plaque, Pete Mastrobono, 86, removed his blue Yankees cap and covered his heart, silent words moving his lips. Now of Zephyr Hills, Fla., Mastrobono grew up in Westchester County and went to Yankee Stadium on Sundays with his friends, to watch DiMaggio with $2 tickets. Mastrobono remembered, in his mind's eye, how DiMaggio slammed home runs, the way he slowed gracefully after rounding first base once he knew the ball had cleared the fence.

Mastrobono had a ticket to Monday night's game, a birthday present from neighbors who share his love for the Yankees and looked out for him in recent years, after Mastrobono's wife passed away. Ralph Zito -- a Yankees zealot reared in Newark -- invites Mastrobono to watch games with his family, including his daughter, Ginger, 14 and freckled; she inherited the Yankees gene, and has a particular affinity for Jeter. Mastrobono joined the Zitos for an Italian meal before the World Series games, and every play seemed to spur memories and Mastrobono would tell stories until the Zitos would smile at each other and ask him to lower his voice. Ssshh, Jeter is batting.

Mastrobono backed away from DiMaggio's plaque before removing his Yankees cap. His aged eyes bright, Mastrobono smiled and said, "I just said hi to old Joe."