Sliders: Revisiting the Yankees' 1990 'Bronx Zoo,' an MLB visiting clubhouse tour and more (2024)

Welcome to Sliders, a weekly in-seasonMLBcolumn that focuses on both the timely and timeless elements of baseball.

If you ever meet John Blundell at a co*cktail party, know this: you’ll never be able to top him for crazy life stories. When Blundell was 18 years old, in 1990, he cleaned up cougar pee from the clubhouse carpet at Yankee Stadium. That’s a true statement begging for follow-ups.

“It’s not like a cat going to the bathroom — it’s more like a horse,” said Blundell, a bat boy then and MLB’s vice president for communications now. “I remember seeing it and thinking, ‘I know whose job this is going to be.’ But the Yankees clubhouse has the best cleaning supplies in the land. I made sure I sopped it all up, sprayed it, scrubbed it, vacuumed it — good as new the next day.

“And the amazing thing was, six years later, that urine was replaced by champagne. So that carpet withstood a lot — good and bad.”

The slapstick, sobering 1990 season led, improbably, to a Yankees dynasty. The story of that year, “Bronx Zoo ’90: Crime, Chaos and Baseball” debuted Thursday on Peaco*ck as a three-part documentary.

It is based on a New York Post series by Joel Sherman, a columnist who serves as consulting producer. Sherman, a beat writer in 1990, reexamined that team during the COVID-19 shutdown in 2020, deep into the Yankees’ current run of 32 consecutive winning seasons.

“If there’s one group I wish could see it, it would be Yankee fans 35 and younger, just as a reminder that there is no divine right for the team to be good,” Sherman said. “Because they don’t know; they’re complaining when the team loses in the ALCS. But I’m here to tell you, I covered them when they were the worst, just a total embarrassment on and off the field.”

The looming suspension of owner George Steinbrenner — who had paid $40,000 to a gambling addict named Howie Spira for damaging information on Dave Winfield — was the off-field backdrop for a team that would lose 95 games, most for the franchise since 1912.

When word of Steinbrenner’s ban trickled out during a game in July, the crowd in the Bronx responded with a standing ovation. That’s how reviled Steinbrenner was at the time for turning a proud franchise into a laughingstock.

Pascual Perez, his prize free agent that winter, blew out his shoulder in a punitive bullpen session after reporting late to spring training. In June, Steinbrenner fired Manager Bucky Dent in Boston, the site of Dent’s triumphant homer in 1978. In July, Andy Hawkins threw a no-hitter in Chicago — but lost by the absurd score of 4-0.

There were highlights, too, like the showdown between multi-sport stars Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders and the slugging of rookie Kevin Maas. But the presence of outfielder Mel Hall — a de facto centerpiece with Winfield traded and Don Mattingly injured for much of the summer — was a disturbing symbol of how badly the Yankees had allowed their brand to be tarnished.

Hall was the one who brought the cougar cubs into the clubhouse (Blundell remembers Claudell Washington herding them into the sauna), and he was arrested after the season for keeping them as pets. The next season, Hall would torment the rookie Bernie Williams, calling him “Zero” and moving the shy, awkward Williams to tears.

But for all of that, Hall was committing far more sinister crimes in the summer of 1990, and for years later. He was sexually involved with a 15-year-old girl that season and lived with her and her family in Fairfield, Conn. The pair’s prom picture actually appeared in the Yankees’ yearbook.

Hall’s behavior was part of a pattern, and in 2009 he was finally convicted — in Texas — on three counts of aggravated sexual assault and two counts of indecency with a child. Now serving a 45-year sentence, he offered no apologies for the 1990 relationship in a prison interview for the documentary.

“Well, you gotta understand this, a lot of people look at it as she was much younger and I was much older, OK?” Hall says in the documentary. “But in retrospect if you look at, now, life here, and some of the stars and movie stars, the age difference is about the same. So that’s just how I look at it. Maybe we were just ahead of our time at that time.”

Hall’s girlfriend from 1990, Chaz Easterly, testified against him in the 2009 trial and speaks at length in the documentary. For all of the riveting interviews director D.J. Caruso collected — with Spira, Don Mattingly, Brian Cashman, Buck Showalter, and many more — her storyline is the most powerful.

Hall’s crimes are the true tragedy of the 1990 Yankees. The unanswered question is how the organization somehow saw fit to keep him for two more seasons, and why it took nearly two more decades to put him away.

“That was part of my healing, that he did have to pay,” Easterly says in part 3. “He will not be known as a Yankee. He’ll be known as an abuser and a pedophile. But I remember thinking, ‘It’s not enough for what he did.’ He stole innocence and childhood. And you heal, but it changed you.”

Meet the Mariners’ Mr. 1,000

It might not be the dream of every kid in Central Florida to grow up and one day become the 1,000th player in the history of the Seattle Mariners. But it happened to Kirby Snead, and he’s just fine with that.

“It’s not really anything I thought about until they told me,” Snead said the other day, by phone from Seattle. “But it’s pretty cool. Getting up here has been fun.”

Snead, 29, started the season with Triple-A Tacoma and made his Mariners debut last Wednesday in Minnesota. With it, he became the 1,000th player in the history of the franchise, which began as an expansion team in 1977.

When the Mariners returned home last Friday, Snead found an on-field celebration waiting for him. A few alumni, each with a number around his neck, joined in the festivities — and like Snead, they’re unlikely to be confused with, say, Ken Griffey Jr.

Bucky Jacobson (No. 505), Charlie Furbush (644), Danny Farquhar (677) and Kristopher Negron (823) lined up behind a table with four sheet cakes, decorated with a 1, 0, 0 and 0. They presented Snead with a special jersey and welcomed him to the not-so-exclusive club.

Pregame, the @Mariners put together a fun celebration for Kirby Snead, who became the 1,000 Mariners in history when he debuted for the team in Minnesota.

He’s joined by former M’s Bucky Jacobsen, Charlie Furbush, Danny Farquhar, and Kristopher Negrón.#TridentsUp pic.twitter.com/jKzHPPgtQg

— Circling Seattle Sports (@CirclingSports) May 11, 2024

“I know they had the four cakes for me, but I didn’t actually get a piece of it,” Snead reported. “But the jersey with ‘1000’ and my name on it, that was kind of cool. I’ll get to keep that forever.”

Snead, who has made three scoreless outings through Thursday, also has his own poster, at least online. The Mariners crafted a spoof of the movie poster for Bernie Mac’s “Mr. 3,000,” with Snead leaning on a bat beneath “Mr. 1,000” in script.

“I think my mom is trying to get it printed somewhere, so she might have one ready for me when I get home in the offseason,” said Snead, who lives in Gainesville, Fla. “It’s been kind of crazy. I didn’t think it was going to be that big of a deal, but it’s been awesome. I’m super appreciative of all the people here.”

Two other teams have welcomed their 1,000th player this season: the Milwaukee Brewers (reliever Jared Koenig) and Kansas City Royals (reliever Colin Selby). But leave it to the franchise that once brought you “Funny Nose Glasses Night” to make it a spectacle — the Mariners have also come up with “Hot Dogs From Heaven” and in-game salmon races this season, with a return of “Jay Buhner Buzz Cut Night” scheduled for June 13.

“We definitely like to do goofy stuff,” said Tyler Thompson, the Mariners’ senior manager for experiential marketing and game entertainment. “We see ourselves as a little bit different up here.”

Gimme Five

Jesse Chavez on MLB clubhouses

Jesse Chavez seemed unlikely to ever set foot in a major-league clubhouse, let alone dozens of them. Chavez, who turns 41 in August, entered pro ball as a 42nd-round draft choice of the Texas Rangers in 2002 — and he’s still here, relieving for the Atlanta Braves.

As the oldest player in the National League, Jesse Chavez had a fitting response when asked recently to name his favorite MLB clubhouse: “Any one with a nap room,” he said, laughing by his locker at Citi Field. Chavez travels with hip-high recovery boots for his legs, and when he puts them on, he figures, why not doze off?

In his waking hours, though, Chavez is a keen observer. He’s played for nine teams (including three separate tours with Atlanta) and pitched in 34 ballparks, retaining vivid memories of each clubhouse.

Some are close to the action, like in Milwaukee, where the clubhouse door opens directly to the dugout. Others are distant, like the old Metrodome in Minneapolis, with 33 stairs and a hallway separating the clubhouse and dugout. Some offer cheesesteaks (Philadelphia), others offer haircuts (Miami) — and some (like Anaheim, Chavez says) need an overhaul.

Here’s a five-stop, behind-the-scenes tour from an enduring right-hander:

Wrigley Field, Chicago: “That’s a maze. You don’t want to forget something up there. And you’ve got to watch your head, too. I got a blown save there once — it stinks that you can get a blown save when you get an out, giving up somebody else’s run — but I had one, and I was (upset). I was going up the tunnel to go get mad in the clubhouse, and boom — I stovepiped my head. Hit it pretty bad and turned right back around, like, ‘Can’t be mad no more.’”

Comerica Park, Detroit: “When I got hit on the shin last year, it was in Detroit. That was the worst — oof. I couldn’t put any pressure on my leg, and it ended up being a microfracture. They have a lot of stairs there, and the (chair lift) didn’t work, so (coach) Sal Fasano had to carry me up. I’m 180. He could carry me up there with one arm. Maybe one finger.”

Nationals Park, Washington: “In the lunchroom, they have these old photos. We actually take all the young kids on the team in there and try to guess each one. They’ve got a little lounge area, a TV room with a couch, it’s nice. They’ve got good memorabilia in there too, but they took a lot of it out when people started taking things.”

Progressive Field, Cleveland: “We play Golden Tee all the time at home, and in Cleveland they have all those games. If you want, they have a full book of Nintendo and Super Nintendo games. You can buy the consoles from (the clubhouse manager) and he’ll bring the games to you the next day.”

Oracle Park, San Francisco: “Luis Gonzalez once put a golf ball in the chili pot, just to see if it would still be there on getaway day — and it was. And then I guess when they went back to play them again, sure enough, it was still in there. Now, on top of the chili pot, there’s a golf ball.”

Off the Grid

A historical detour from the Immaculate Grid

Rick Ferrell, Hall of Fame catcher

Baseball history offers plenty of examples of mistaken identity. Yankees manager Aaron Boone was ejected last month for something a fan said. In 1965, the owners were set to consider a former Air Force secretary, Eugene Zuckert, as commissioner — and wound up with William Eckert, an Air Force General with a similar-sounding name, instead. And who knows what hijinks the Canseco twins, Jose and Ozzie, pulled when they played together in Oakland.

Fear of mistaken identity kept me from choosing Rick Ferrell on last Sunday’s Grid, which asked for a Hall of Fame catcher. I wasn’t sure if it was Rick or his brother, Wes, who’s enshrined in Cooperstown. It’s Rick, I learned — but, as legend has it, perhaps it was meant to be Wes.

Researchers at the Hall of Fame could not confirm that a mix-up in the 1984 Veterans’ Committee vote gave Rick Ferrell a plaque — but they couldn’t deny it, either. In his meticulously sourced Hall of Fame study, “The Cooperstown Casebook,” Jay Jaffe writes that committee members were either confused about which Ferrell they elected, or “a vote-swapping scheme designed to prevent hurt feelings due to a shutout went awry”.

However it happened, Rick Ferrell made it in. He was a very good player: a strong-armed, eight-time All-Star who batted .281 for the Red Sox, Browns and Senators. But he hit just 28 homers in more than 7,000 plate appearances — while Wes hit 38 homers in just 1,345 plate appearances, with a .280 average.

And Wes, ahem, was a pitcher: a six-time 20-game winner for Cleveland and the Red Sox, he earned 190 victories from 1929 through 1938. The two pitchers with more wins in that stretch, Lefty Grove and Carl Hubbell, are in the Hall, as are Red Ruffing and Lefty Gomez, who rank fourth and fifth on that list.

Wes’ prime coincided with an offensive boom, and his 4.04 career ERA would be the highest in the Hall. Perhaps it’s just as well, then, that he didn’t make it — and while Rick did, few people remember him now. Of the 81,000 or so who played last Sunday’s Grid, only .3 chose Rick Ferrell as their Cooperstown catcher.

Classic clip

Lance Parrish on “Diff’rent Strokes”

We all know the spoils of a World Series championship: the ring, the parade, the winner’s share. Sometimes you even get a commemorative book deal, like Lance Parrish, who wrote “The Enchanted Season,” with Tom Gage, about the Detroit Tigers’ last championship in 1984. It comes out next month from Triumph Books.

For true World Series glory, though, is there any topping a guest appearance on “Diff’rent Strokes”? Hmm — maybe don’t answer that. But do enjoy this clip from 1985 of Lance helping Mr. Drummond coach youth baseball. There’s no resolution to this storyline, and that ragtag team doesn’t look too athletic.

But you’ve gotta admit: Lance is rocking a really sweet warm-up jacket.

(Top photo of George Steinbrenner facing the media after agreeing to resign in July 1990: Bettmann Archive / Getty Images)