1941 New York Yankees Season

The 1941 New York Yankees season was the 39th season for the team in New York, and its 41st season overall. The team finished with a record of 101-54, winning their 12th pennant, finishing 17 games ahead of the Boston Red Sox. New York was managed by Joe McCarthy. The Yankees played their home games at Yankee Stadium. In the World Series, they beat the Brooklyn Dodgers in 5 games.

Books and songs have been written about the 1941 season, the last before the United States became drawn into World War II. Yankees' center fielder Joe DiMaggio captured the nation's fancy with his lengthy hitting streak that extended through 56 games before finally being stopped. A big-band style song called Joltin' Joe DiMaggio was a hit for the Les Brown orchestra.

Read more about 1941 New York Yankees Season:  Regular Season, 1941 World Series, Awards and Honors, Farm System

Famous quotes containing the words york, yankees and/or season:

    And you’re too fired up to go to sleep, you sit at the kitchen table. It’s really late, it’s really quiet, you’re tired. Don’t wanna go to bed, though. Going to bed means this was the day. This Feb. 12, this Aug. 3, this Nov. 20 is over and you’re tired and you made some money but it didn’t happen, nothing happened. You got through it and a whole day of your life is over. And all it is—is time to go to bed.
    Claudia Shear, U.S. author. New York Times, p. A21 (September 29, 1993)

    Well, you Yankees and your holy principle about savin’ the Union. You’re plunderin’ pirates that’s what. Well, you think there’s no Confederate army where you’re goin’. You think our boys are asleep down here. Well, they’ll catch up to you and they’ll cut you to pieces you, you nameless, fatherless scum. I wish I could be there to see it.
    John Lee Mahin (1902–1984)

    To me a book is a message from the gods to mankind; or, if not, should never be published at all.... A message from the gods should be delivered at once. It is damnably blasphemous to talk about the autumn season and so on. How dare the author or publisher demand a price for doing his duty, the highest and most honourable to which a man can be called?
    Aleister Crowley (1875–1947)