Despite all the less-than-kind things we've said about Goose Gossage here in the past, and despite the fact that he once called Yankees fans "dumb motherf**ers", I must say that meeting the Goose in person was nothing but a delight. They say that time heals all wounds; I suppose the same can be said for a couple of Coronas in a swank Stadium suite and a tiny dose of star-struck celebrity-meeting awe.
What was I supposed to do, tell Mr. Gossage that I think he's no Dan Quisenberry?
Because it's true: I've argued against his Hall of Fame credentials in the past and, when it comes to WAR, he's borderline at best, but I'll be damned if I was going to actually say anything so crass to his face. So what if he signs every baseball with his Hall of Fame induction year? The man earned it. ("It" being the adoration of burger-chompin' beat writers and hackneyed columnists, I guess).
And so it's no big deal if he's on the record criticizing one of my favorite pitchers for something so silly as excessive celebration. It was Old Timers Day! A day when we should be respecting our elders, not sassing them for their out-of-touch opinions. Or goofy trademark facial hair.
I also met David Cone and he was so charming, he could have stolen my fiancée if he wanted. Or me. Dreamy!