Remembering Yogi on His 100th

To millions of Americans, he might have been better known for things he said than for the game he played. He remains a great and unforgettable American.

Remembering Yogi on His 100th

By Lawrence W. Reed

Once, when baseball Hall of Famer and Yankees catcher Yogi Berra was asked, “What time is it?” he replied, “You mean now?” That was classic Yogi.

Right now, it’s time to remember Yogi again. Monday, May 12, 2025, marks the centennial of his birth. When he died at age 90 ten years ago this September, America lost one of its best-known athletes. He was a great ball player and one of the funniest ones, too.

Born Lorenzo Pietro Berra in St. Louis, Missouri, in 1925, this son of Italian immigrants earned the nickname “Yogi” years later when a fellow player said that while sitting with his legs crossed, he looked like an Indian practicing yoga.

He enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1943, participated in the Normandy invasion, and earned a Purple Heart for his wounds in service. Within a year of the war’s end, he jumped into Major League Baseball, playing for 19 seasons (all but one for the New York Yankees). In his 18 seasons with New York, the Yankees went to the World Series 14 times and won ten. In Sports Illustrated for July 4, 2011, Joe Posnanski said that this fact made Yogi the winningest player in MLB history. He also won the American League’s MVP award three times. And he not only played baseball, but he coached it as well.

No one ever doubted Yogi’s skills as a catcher and as a batter (he hit 358 home runs), but this little five-foot-seven guy also boasted a generous share of luck. Posnanski described him as “the luckiest son-of-a-gun to ever play the game” and he quotes Casey Stengel as saying that Yogi “was the sort of player that could fall into a sewer and come out with a gold watch.”

Luck, skill, or both, it didn’t matter. Fans adored Yogi on and off the field.

To millions of Americans, he might have been better known for things he said than for the game he played. His lifelong friend and fellow player, Joe Garagiola, put it this way:

Fans have labeled Yogi Berra “Mr. Malaprop,” but I don’t think that’s accurate. He doesn’t use the wrong words. He just puts words together in ways nobody else would ever do.

He was described as “a lovable folk hero,” “one of a kind,” “everything we want our kids to be,” “baseball’s most memorable man,” “the ultimate team player who approached the game with equal parts class and joy,” and “a character who brought smiles to the faces of everybody.” He was all those things, as well as a great American patriot and a genuinely wonderful human being.

Jackie Robinson, the player who broke “the color barrier,” recounted Yogi’s first words to him when he (Robinson) was brand new to the major leagues and met Yogi for the first time: “Thank you for your service to the country (Jackie had served in the U.S. Army) and welcome to the major leagues.”

No tribute to Yogi would be complete without a generous sample of “Yogi-isms,” so I close with the following selection. Happy 100th, Yogi!

If you don't know where you’re going, you might not get there.

You can observe a lot by watching.

Pair up in threes.

Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.

Always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t go to yours.

It’s déjà vu all over again.

We’re lost, but we’re making good time.

90 percent of the game is half mental.

Never answer an anonymous letter.

We made too many wrong mistakes.

If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, how are you going to stop them?