Post runs https://nypost.com/2019/03/20/inside-the-derek-jeter-brian-cashman-feud-that-festered-for-years-before-stanton-heist/an excerpt of Klapisch's new Yankees book; illustrating what we all knew about Jeter's scumminess but no one was brave enough to say during his career. While Cashman insists that he liked Jeter as a player, it isn't entirely clear that he means it. Or maybe it's fairer to say that there were two Derek Jeters — the happy-go-lucky kid from Kalamazoo who came up at twenty-one and seduced the sport with his cool-hand poise, that gift for the big play on the grand stage, and the thirty-something Jeter who became somewhat hardened by fame. Treated like a civic institution in New York — worshiped by the faithful in their Jumpman-branded garb, teenage fan-girls rocking RE2PECT tank tops, and adored and protected by the tabloid scolds who trolled other stars on Page Six — he somehow remembered every slight and provocation. Jeter grew distant from writers who dared to notice that he couldn't get around on a good fastball. His initial coldness toward Alex Rodríguez was as stark as it was cruel: there was that graceless moment in 2006 when a routine pop fly somehow fell between them. Jeter, hands on hips, glared daggers at A-Rod, emasculating him on national TV. That Derek Jeter wasn't fun to general-manage — or to have playing behind you when you pitched. “When Andy [Pettitte] came back from Houston, there was a ground ball up the middle, and Andy's like, ‘All right, that's an out,' ” says Cashman. “Next thing you know, it goes through for a hit and he's like, ‘Crap, Jetes can't get to those anymore.' ”