It began in late 1984. The cold and calculating front office, what was in all ways a corporate empire, launched—in an attempt remake itself—a campaign to get rid of one of its own. He had been loyal. He had been productive. He was the epitome of affablity, standing there, tall and well-coifed, wearing his familiar red and white uniform. He was, in many ways, the face of the franchise. They asked fans on the street before discarding their old friend. The answer to their question, “Should the Big Boy stay or should the Big Boy go?” came echoing back in resounding fashion:
Thirty-some odd years later, Jay Bruce would become our Big Boy—always poised, always professional, always affable.