When you were a kid and you opened that Topps or Bowman pack of baseball cards, and you pulled a Yogi Berra card out, you were batting 1.000. He WAS the catcher of his day. After all, he was THE catcher of the mighty New York Yankees.
Nobody used his card for spokes.
Nobody traded away his card.
Besides Mickey’s card, this was the one to savor.
After all, every kid loved him. He spoke like no one before or since. And somehow, you understood him.
He was one of us…kids from the Midwest or the Northeast or the South or the West. Yogi was us.
He may have passed, but we will never forget him.
We will come to yours, Yogi, just so you can come to ours.