'Firing' Malio and other Steinbrenner memories in new book

Malio Iavarone was talking about the time he was fired from the restaurant he owned by one of his dining guests. The guest was George Steinbrenner.

Malio's old hangout on Dale Mabry Highway was the place the stars went to eat when they were in town, and you couldn't ever hope to count the number of deals that were made over prime rib and slices of peanut butter pie. Steinbrenner ate there so often that he had a standing reservation and a private room that essentially belonged to him.

So, George was there one night with some bigwigs from the Fox TV network. There were too many to fit comfortably into George's regular room, but he wouldn't move to a larger place. So there they were, all these high-powered guys almost sitting on top of each other. Steinbrenner wasn't amused.

Finally, one of them goes, "Are you sure you know Malio?"

That did it. Malio picks up the story here.

"George tells someone, 'Go get Malio.' So I'm like, 'What's the problem, George?' And he goes, 'You're fired!' So, I go get in my car and drive home. I just left. I mean, I'm fired, right? Fired from my own place."

Malio was laughing loudly as he told the story and flashed a diamond-crusted Yankees championship ring from the 1999 World Series. It's one of four Series rings George gave him. George can be a forgiving sort.

Tales like that were flowing freely a couple of nights ago, this time at Malio's new place in downtown Tampa. The occasion was a visit by Bill Madden, longtime baseball writer and Steinbrenner observer for the New York Daily News. Madden has written a marvelous new book called "Steinbrenner: The Last Lion In Baseball" (Harper, $26.99).

He interviewed Malio and many other local folks extensively for this book.

"It's not a hit job on George, but it's not a valentine either," Madden said. "You can't change history. But I have a great deal of affection for him. He belongs in the Hall of Fame."

The book is meticulously researched, and it's a fascinating read, especially since so much of this happened in our backyard. George was many things in his prime, but most of all he was passionate - misguided at times, to be sure, but we tend to overlook a lot of that excess here because he was so good to Tampa.

We know about a lot of it, such as the check he wrote to keep the symphony orchestra alive or the Christmas show he put on for Hillsborough County school kids. But George could be autocratic, too.

Don Zimmer once called Steinbrenner "petty and vindictive" for the way he treated Yankees manager Joe Torre. Zimmer, now a consultant with the Tampa Bay Rays, quit the Yankees coaching staff after the 2003 World Series out of loyalty to Torre. He has not spoken with George since.

But there was Zim now, seated at the table and swapping George stories, grinning and giggling. He was handicapping a race at Tampa Bay Downs once with George when The Boss noticed a trainer's name misspelled on the program.

It didn't take much.

"George goes stomping off, looking for whoever typed that guy's name in wrong," Zimmer said.

Once, Steinbrenner was lecturing the Yankees staff after a three-game losing streak. Zimmer was interim manager while Torre was undergoing cancer treatment.

"We still had the best record in baseball, but George goes, 'Anybody here who thinks they've done the best job they can, you can walk out. You're excused,'" Zimmer said. "So, I walked out. Hey, I was excused! George just stood there."

He grew quiet for a minute.

"When I left the Yankees, it was not a spur-of-the-moment decision," he said. "But I'm just sick of the way it wound up. I feel so bad of the way it happened."

Tears began to form in Zimmer's eyes.

"It's so sad."

George is rarely seen in public these days. The man who was once the most accessible person in professional sports is essentially unreachable, fiercely protected by his family. We can only guess what's going on, but if anyone has earned the right to go through this stage of life in peace, it's George.

His 80th birthday is July 4. That will mark one year since Malio last saw his friend.

"There was a party at George's house," he said. "I brought in some rock crabs, because George loves them. Somebody goes, 'George, this is Malio.' He sat there for a bit and then goes, 'I love Malio.' I mean, I'm choking up badly. I had to leave."

So many stories, like when Steinbrenner picked up the tab on a trip to New York for Christine Holloway, a hostess at Malio's, and a friend. He gave them both an extra $1,000 for shopping.

The evening was winding down, but there was time for one more tale.

Malio was closing a deal to sell his place on Dale Mabry to businessman Philip Orsino. Mayor Pam Iorio was there. Orsino was paying Malio $2 million, plus $300,000 a year for like 20 years. He was also chipping in a major contribution to Iorio's pet Riverwalk project.

They didn't expect George to stop by that day, so the meeting was taking place at his table. Of course, here he comes.

"Orsino is giving me $2 million and I'm going, 'We've got to move. George is here.' He couldn't believe it," Malio said. "So we do the deal and we get ready to tear the building down. Orsino says, 'I want George's booth. That's the last time he's kicking me out of there.'"

He gets the booth and later sold it at a fundraiser for the Academy of the Holy Names.

You know what happens next. George, knowing none of this, calls. He wants his booth as a keepsake. It's already gone.

"I have to think fast, so I tell him that I sent it to the Academy for the auction. I don't tell him about Orsino," Malio said. "He's OK with that because his grandkids went there. He's like, 'At least it went to a good cause.' He never knew the real story."

Good thing. George would have fired him again.