Jerry Coleman, a former fighter pilot who played in six World Series as an infielder for the Yankees but who made his most lasting mark as a broadcaster, first for the Yankees and then more indelibly for the San Diego Padres, died Sunday near his home in San Diego. He was 89.

His daughter Chelsea Coleman confirmed the death, saying the cause was complications after a fall.

The Padres said they would open their ballpark so that fans could pay their respects. In 2012, the team honored Coleman, a beloved figure in San Diego, with a statue at the stadium.

Coleman’s playing career was unspectacular: His career batting average was .263, he had little power and he played only one season as a regular. But that one season was impressive: As the Yankees’ everyday second baseman in 1950, he played 153 games, batted .287 and was named the most valuable player in the World Series as the Yankees swept the Phillies.

As a Marine pilot, he flew in the Pacific during World War II and was recalled to fly during the Korean War.

As a broadcaster for the Padres starting in 1972, he was known to get lost in the clouds of the English language as he never did in the cockpit.

He once blurted: “Winfield goes back to the wall, he hits his head on the wall and it rolls off! It’s rolling all the way back to second base. This is a terrible thing for the Padres.”

And then there was this: “On the mound is Randy Jones, the left-hander with the Karl Marx hairdo.”

Coleman acknowledged that there was a “term that’s associated with me — ‘Colemanisms,’ or what you might call flubs,” he said in “An American Journey: My Life on the Field, in the Air, and on the Air,” a memoir written with Richard Goldstein and published in 2008.

“Maybe I talk too quick-
ly, too soon,” he added. “I may have said the one on Winfield. ‘Winfield goes back. He hit his head against the wall. It’s rolling toward the infield.’ I meant the ball, of course. I just didn’t get around to saying, ‘It wasn’t his head rolling toward the infield.’ I skip a word here and there.”

Photo Coleman, Frank Messer and Phil Rizzuto as Yankees broadcasters. CreditUnited Press International

But he could be entirely clear when he had something to say on an issue. After baseball began to acknowledge the enlarged physiques of some players and their ballooning home run totals, in 2005, Coleman spoke out in favor of strong penalties for abuse of steroids.

“If I’m emperor, the first time, 50 games, the second time, 100 games, and the third strike, you’re out,” he said.

Major League Baseball adopted that penalty structure by the end of the year.

Gerald Francis Coleman was born Sept. 14, 1924, in San Jose, Calif. He attended Lowell High School in San Francisco, playing in an elite league with Bobby Brown and Charlie Silvera, both of whom went on to be parts of a new Yankees era after the war.

Coleman joined the war effort after playing in 83 games in the low minors in 1942. He enlisted in the Navy’s preflight program and was later assigned to the Marines. He once told Michael Kay of the Yankees’ YES Network that the proudest day of his life was April 1, 1944, when he was given his pilot’s wings. He flew 57 missions in the Solomon Islands and the Philippines in a two-seat Dauntless dive bomber.

Photo Coleman, a Hall of Fame broadcaster, was introduced at the Yankees' Old-Timer's Day in 2010.CreditJim McIsaac/Getty Image

When the war ended, he returned to the Yankees’ farm system before making it to the big leagues in 1949. In 1952, as the Korean War expanded, Congress pushed to draft or recall major league players like Coleman. Ted Williams was sent to the war, and he gained an even higher profile after crash-landing his burning fighter.

Coleman was also activated.

“Speaking only for myself, the reason seems simple enough,” Coleman told The New York Times in 1952. “For an experienced flier, it takes only about two months to get back in harness. Starting with a youngster who has never flown before, it would take about two years before he would be ready for combat duty.”

Coleman played 11 games early in 1952 and went off to fly 63 missions in a Chance Vought F4U Corsair, a single-seat, carrier-based propeller fighter that had been named “Whistling Death” by Japanese soldiers in World War II because of the eerie noise it made when the wind rushed through its engine vents.

He averted death when a Sabre jet narrowly missed him as they headed for the same runway. Another time, his plane flipped over after the engine quit on a runway during takeoff, with his bomb load still intact, and he was nearly strangled by his helmet straps. He also saw his Marine roommate shot down and later had to confirm the death to the pilot’s wife in person.

Photo Coleman, in a Banshee jet fighter in 1952, served as a pilot in World War II and was recalled to serve in the Korean War. CreditAssociated Press

After his discharge, Coleman played in eight games at the end of the 1953 season, then lasted for four more seasons, hitting .364 against the Milwaukee Braves in the 1957 World Series before retiring.

After a short stint working in the Yankees’ farm system, he tried broadcasting on the advice of Howard Cosell, joining the Yankees’ all-star team of announcers, including Red Barber, Mel Allen and Phil Rizzuto, in 1963. He remained in the Yankees’ booth until 1969.

Moving to California, Coleman worked briefly for the Angels, settling in the La Jolla section of San Diego, before starting as a Padres broadcaster. He also did national games for network radio through 1997.

In 1980, the Padres talked him out of the booth to manage the team, but after the team finished last, he returned to broadcasting.

Unlike many regional broadcasting favorites, Coleman did not indulge in shtick. But he did borrow the exclamation “Oh, doctor!” from Barber, who had used that phrase with the Dodgers and the Yankees.

In 2005, Coleman was given the Ford C. Frick Award by the Baseball Hall of Fame. Named for the former baseball commissioner, it is presented annually to a broadcaster for “major contributions to baseball.” He was also inducted into the Marine Corps Sports Hall of Fame.

Besides his daughter Chelsea, Coleman is survived by his wife, Maggie Coleman; two children from a previous marriage, Diane Long and Jerry Coleman; a sister, Rosemarie Coleman; two grandchildren; and two great-grandchildren.

Gerald F Coleman