DEREK JETER is about to go where no other pin-striped, single-digit Yankee has ever gone before. Not Babe Ruth, not Lou Gehrig, not Joe DiMaggio. Jeter is about to become the first New York Yankee to grind out 3,000 hits.
He plays hard, he plays hurt, he's handsome, he's humble. He has won five Gold Gloves, despite the furious screeches of those nerds with their charts and graphs and decimal points who insist the shortstop has the range of a weary snail.
He played for baseball's most intrusive owner, George Steinbrenner. Transformed one of The Boss' rants about his social life into a clever commercial that had them dancing together.
He navigates New York's tabloid jungle with grace, avoiding the quicksand by hoarding his thoughts on anything with the barest scent of controversy. He has dated some of the most beautiful women in the world, on his terms, and is currently romancing actress Minka Kelly, who is gorgeous and talented.
Yankees general manager Brian Cashman once said, if you had a daughter, you'd want her to marry someone like Jeter.
And, if you have a son, I've got a book for you to buy him. It's called "The Captain" and it's written by Ian O'Connor, a gifted journalist who does not disguise his admiration for Jeter, even if the player did not cooperate.
You don't have to be a Yankees fan to enjoy this glowing portrait of a big-league ballplayer, the face of the franchise for a dozen years. If O'Connor searched for a dark side, and that's doubtful, he didn't find it. Or if he did, he doesn't reveal it.
Jeter is described as a "biracial golden child," the son of a black father and a white mother. He may have gotten his steely work ethic from his grandfather, Sonny, who never called in sick. He probably got his aborrhence of drugs from his father, a drug counselor.
He was a dynamite high school athlete in Kalamazoo, Mich., thoroughly scouted. O'Connor goes deep into the decision of five teams to pass on Jeter before the Yankees snatched him out of the amateur draft.
There's a painful segment about Hal Newhouser who resigned when Houston ignored his enthusiastic scouting reports. And we can't blame that one on Eddie Wade.
It is somehow comforting to read that Jeter did not set the minor league world afire. He cried himself to sleep many nights, and ran up huge phone bills, seeking sympathy from his parents.
