Sometimes, what you get is Reggie Jackson.
Forget what we know about Reggie now, his entire legend and legacy seen through the prism of his “Mr. October” nickname, through those three home runs he sent flying out of Yankee Stadium in Game 6 of the 1977 World Series. Reggie is proof that the ends really do justify the means. Because he powered the Yankees to a couple of titles, the struggles that preceded them are viewed with a quirky nod.
At the time? It wasn’t quirky. It was calamity. Someone like Graig Nettles could find the humor in it, saying in that summer of 1977: “Some kids want to grow up to be major league baseball players. Some kids want to run away and join the circus. I got to do both.”
Mostly, it wasn’t funny. Mostly, Reggie was viewed as an interloper, as a me-first egomaniac, as a clubhouse lawyer . . . and he was 3-for-3, truth be told. Yankees fans had grown to love the 1976 team, which had ended a 12-year exile from the postseason, which was forged in the image of Thurman Munson, a collection of very-good-but-not-great players, without a superstar among them, unless you count Catfish Hunter, the team’s lone Hall of Famer, who in 1976 went 17-15 and started a four-year denouement of decline.
That ’76 team was a fun team to root for, a lot of Roy Whites and Doyle Alexanders and Chicken Stanleys and Oscar Gambles, good enough to win a division, good enough (thanks to the chairman of the very-good-but-not-greats, Chris Chambliss) to eke out a pennant . . . and barely worthy of sharing the same field with the Reds, who barely broke a sweat in a World Series sweep.
To George Steinbrenner’s credit, he realized he needed Reggie Jackson to take the next step. Billy Martin fought hard for Joe Rudi, which figures, because Joe Rudi, very good player, would have fit in snugly alongside Carlos May and Dick Tidrow and Willie Randolph and the other very-good-but-not-greats on the team. And here’s the thing: With Joe Rudi, Billy Martin may never have gotten himself fired five times, and the Yankees might even have stayed among the AL elite for a few years. But they wouldn’t have won the World Series.
Count on it. Without Reggie, they Do. Not. Win. A. World. Series.
Of course, there were countless times when Yankees fans — and certainly Martin — would have parted with their left arms to go back to the way things were. Jackson was that disruptive. He was that dyspeptic. He caused that much angst and agita among his teammates and his own fans. Hell, in the deciding game of the ALCS that year — all of nine days before his defining moment as a Yankee — Martin didn’t even start him against the Royals!
Would you even like to imagine what it would have been like in the spring and summer and fall of 1977 if there had been talk radio? Or blogs? Or email? It makes your ears bleed just thinking about it.
And yet, sometimes what you get is Reggie Jackson, which means sometimes what you get is a complicated superstar who makes damn sure to make you question yourself a thousand different times before finally giving him your loyalty . . . and then he makes it worthwhile, multiplied by a thousand.
But sometimes you get Roberto Alomar. Or Spencer Haywood. Or Randy Johnson. Or Neil O’Donnell. Or Eric Lindros. Or Larry Csonka. Or any of dozens of other big-name big-timers who came to the big city and couldn’t possibly have looked smaller.
How will we remember Carmelo Anthony 30 years from now?
For a daily dose of Vac’s Whacks, click nypost.com.blogs/vaccaro
WHACK BACK AT VAC
Chris Freeman: I know how bad it stinks to be a Cleveland fan and the Cavaliers are historically horrific. But it must be fun to watch the tournament, witness the birth of a star and begin to fantasize about a legitimate No. 1 pick. Derrick Williams . . . my God!
Vac: More than the upsets, I like the NCAA Tournament to watch players who’ve flown under the radar all year surface. Arizona’s Williams is this year’s Tyron Thomas.
Mike Goudreau: I keep wondering if the Knicks’ biggest problem is that the new guys aren’t in the kind of shape the D’Antoni offense and pace demands. Is this why they keep coming up empty in the fourth quarter, especially Melo, who comes out guns-a-blazing and then disappears?
Vac: Put it this way: If that’s what the problem really is, that will be what passes as great news around the Garden these days. It is something to root for, though.
Joe Bedics: It’s great Marquette is paying tribute to Al McGuire on their jerseys; another good idea would be to wear the same style uniforms from the night they beat North Carolina to win the championship in 1977.
Vac: It’s criminal that un-tucked look never caught on. The greatest sports fashion statement of all time.
Angela Amico Olchaskey: In regard to Luis Castillo/Oliver Perez, just hope it’s not a case of be careful what you wish for . . . sometimes the unknown is worse than the known.
Vac: Castillo is just wily enough he could haunt. I think poor Ollie is done.
VAC’S WHACKS
* For a guy who’s so ardently opposed to ever uttering one public syllable that’s even remotely interesting or provocative, Joe Girardi sure has spent a lot of time lately roiling the radio folk in town.
* Bo Ryan is a hell of a coach and he does some wonderful work with the University of Wisconsin. But his Badgers do have a knack for playing some of the most unwatchable basketball games you’ll ever stumble across.
* I fell in love watching college basketball at Rose Hill in the late ’70s thanks to Tom Penders’ first teams at Fordham, and the bug has stuck for good. His new book, “Dead Coach Walking,” is a more-than-worthwhile read if you like the game that much, too.
* Jeff Van Gundy really is terrific on TV. But it also seems a waste that he isn’t coaching a basketball team somewhere.