Life was good for Derek Jeter. Life always seemed to be good for Derek Jeter. He was the 23-year-old shortstop for the New York Yankees and he was one of the most popular and respected players in the major leagues. He had one World Series ring on his finger from his memorable rookie season in 1996 and he was searching for more with a very powerful team in 1998. Yes, life was definitely good.
Since Jeter had told his parents as a young boy that his dream was to play shortstop for the Yankees, the same out-of-this-world dream shared by millions, he really was living the dream. Who is that prescient? How does a kid from Kalamazoo, Michigan, with a Yankees uniform hanging on his bedroom wall dream the biggest of dreams into existence? And how does he feel when that dream is realized?
“When you’re a kid and you’re dreaming of playing in the major leagues, you just envision yourself there,” Jeter said. “Nothing else comes along with it. It’s almost like it’s a black-and-white picture. And, once you’re there, you start to put color on the picture. And, with my dream, it’s like I’ve never woken up.”
But, before the Yankees played their first game of 1998, Jeter wondered if he would even get to play that season. For a brief and horrifying minute or so, he wrestled with his own mortality.
After the Yankees completed their spring training schedule in Tampa, they were a confident and restless bunch, ready to start a new season and erase the ignominy of what happened in 1997. The day that players leave their spring training site to begin a new year is always filled with anticipation, excitement, and relief because the 45 days of practicing and playing exhibition games has finally ended. The real season has arrived.
But, before starting the real season, the Yankees were traveling to San Diego to play an exhibition game against San Diego State. It sounded like a simple pit stop for play against some giddy college players before starting the season in Anaheim against the Angels. As Jeter recalled, it ended up being far from simple. It ended up being terrifying.
Since the Yankees were flying in an internationally based aircraft that had already landed in Tampa, the plane wasn’t permitted to make a second consecutive stop in the United States. That meant the Yankees couldn’t simply fly directly from Tampa to San Diego. Instead, the decision was made to have the 747 fly from Tampa to Tijuana, Mexico, and then transport the team to San Diego by bus. It seemed like a minor travel adjustment, until it wasn’t.
When Jeter and his teammates landed in Tijuana and climbed on the bus, they could see the United States–Mexico border ahead of them. So far, so good. The driver soon turned the trip into chaos and distress when he made a reckless turn and began driving atop the two-foot cement barriers that lined the exit to the airport. The Yankees were jostled inside the bus as two wheels were rumbling on top of the barrier and two wheels were still slicing along the road. For a few frightening moments, which felt like a lot more than a few moments, the bus felt as if it were going to topple over and crash.
“We were on our bus and the bus ran into the median and it almost flipped,” Jeter said. “We were sort of teetering. I just remember people yelling to get to the other side of the bus and to try and tip it back so it wouldn’t flip over. We hadn’t even played one game yet. So our season almost started horrifically.”
Reliever Mike Stanton recalled how the driver was trying to regale the players with information about the area over the loudspeaker. He droned on too long, Stanton said. Perhaps he became distracted.
“I was sitting right behind the bus driver and the bus driver decided that he was going to give a tour,” Stanton said. “So he is on the mic and he’s talking and we get up to the border and it was kind of dark and there weren’t any streetlights. And he’s still talking. And, I mean, the guys in the back are just killing him. They are trying to get him to stop. And he just kept going and going. At one point, one of us just said, ‘Dude, please, just stop talking. Please, just drive the bus.’”
That request wasn’t exactly followed. While the driver did drive the bus, he collided with the barriers. Jeter doesn’t remember who was sitting beside him, but David Cone recalled how a panicky Hideki Irabu was next to him and Jeff Nelson was bracing for David Wells to come crashing across the aisle. Stanton remembered a lot of screaming and a lot of howling. The bus kept teetering and kept riding on two wheels, which put the wherewithal of the $63 million Yankees in jeopardy. Million-dollar arms and legs and bodies aren’t supposed to get smashed around like pinballs.
Eventually, just as it seemed the bus might crash on its side, the driver managed to regain control and steady the vehicle so that he was driving on four wheels. Every passenger bounced around as the bus stabilized with a bang. But it was back on four wheels. Once the players realized they were safe, they exhaled and then screamed at the reckless driver. He was so shaken up that he stopped driving and parked the bus in the middle of the road. The angry and relieved players jumped off the bus and walked the short distance to the border.
“That incident,” said Jeter, “is the thing I remember the most from the beginning of the 1998 season.”
The crazy bus ride. The crazy and almost disastrous bus ride. When I asked Jeter to recount something unbelievable that happened in 1998, he chose the bus ride. That was more unbelievable than the 1–4 start, more unbelievable than Joe Torre’s motivational clubhouse meeting in Seattle, and more unbelievable than speculation about Torre’s job status. That’s how harrowing that bus ride was.
Searching for the most precise details, I asked Jeter which side of the bus almost tipped over. Stanton had said the driver was shifting from the right lane to the left lane so the bus almost fell over on its left side. How did Jeter remember it tipping? To the left or the right? Jeter laughed.
“I don’t know which side,” Jeter said, “I’m tipping to right now.”
But, typically, Jeter knew exactly where he was and who he was in 1998. He almost always did. That was the beauty and strength of Jeter, who was a calm and confident player from the first day he donned pinstripes.