Babe Ruth

"Seventy-two thousand of the flock stand prepared to break the Sabbath this coming Sunday. Break it? Nay, destroy, shatter utterly with screams of pleasure as they observe a large vulgar person, himself a confessed glutton, propel a sphere an unholy distance. Old Nick rides on Ruth's bat, else how could he smite the ball so far beyond the power of ordinary man? He is in league. Forbid the games. Cast this Ruth out into utter darkness. He creates joy annually for millions."

"I remember him pointing with his bat in his right hand to right field, not center field. But he definitely called his shot."

"Ping Bodie and Babe Ruth of the New York Yankees have become fast friends. The pair usually room together when on the road. Bodie touts Babe as the greatest hitter the game ever knew, while Babe tells friends Ping is some clouter. Sort of a mutual admiration society."

"He always threw to the right base. We say that about most outfielders. Ruth always threw to the right base. DiMaggio always threw to the right base. The others maybe did, maybe didn’t. Mays most of the time threw to the right base, but Ruth always threw to the right base."

"So we went to see Babe Ruth pitch the last game of the 1933 season. The Senators had already clinched the pennant, the Giants had clinched in the other league, so this was just a nothing game. I thought maybe he’d make an appearance, pitch an inning or two or three – he pitched a complete game. He hadn’t pitched a complete game since 1930, and then he pitched a complete game. And before that he had pitched two four-inning stints for the Yankees, so he pitched four times. So he pitched a complete game, he gave up twelve hits, it was not a great pitching performance, but the Yankees won, 7-5. He didn’t strike out a soul. Years later I saw him on Broadway. I went up to him and said, “Hi, Babe.” He said, “Hi, kid.” That’s the way he treated everybody. I said, “You know, I saw you pitch your last game at the Stadium.” This was maybe eight years later or so. I said, “How come you didn’t strike out anybody?” And he said, “I wanted those other eight guys to earn their money!” And that was Ruth."

"Well, Al Simmons is a great hitter. No doubt of that. I think he's a better hitter than young Jimmy Foxx right now; at least I consider him more dangerous up there. But the fellow I'd name for the best hitter in the league is Babe Ruth. The big fellow looked like a million dollars against us in Detroit. Say, he nearly killed Marty McManus with a line drive down the third base line. And a left-hand hitter, too. There never was anybody could hit with him. He tops 'em all."

"Yes, and the greatest I've ever heard of. Far and away. These other home run hitters are neck and neck. When the Babe was doing his stuff, he was miles ahead of his field. A great fielder and thrower, too. A good base runner. Made the right play instinctively. And don't forget he was one of the great left-hand pitchers of his time. When was there ever another ball player like that?"

"He wasn’t a baseball player. He was a worldwide celebrity, an international star, the likes of which baseball has never seen since."

"We need just two players to be a contender. Just Babe Ruth and Sandy Koufax."

"In the season of 1920, and the current one, the great American sport has undergone a complete metamorphosis and, except in its essentials, is radically different from the game which obtained for a great many years. The pitching is different—perhaps not so good; but the great change, the change which appeals to the fans and most of the players, is that each and every game has become a slugging contest, with home-run hits a-plenty and extra-base hits galore. Who is responsible for this metamorphosis in baseball? Babe Ruth. Yes, Ruth and his home-run hitting have done more to change the style of the modern game than all the other agencies combined. Others have seen him just bang away and smash the ball to all corners of the lot and over the fence, and have said to themselves: "If he can do it, so can I," and they have gone out, one and all, to try to make good. Hence the new game of baseball."

"Some twenty years ago I stopped talking about the Babe for the simple reason that I realized that those who had never seen him didn't believe me."

"Sakes alive. If someone hit a ball out to me, I'd hear those footsteps comin' from both sides and I began to fear for my life! Both of them were gallopin' around without regard for life or limb, hollerin' all the time. I said, holy cripes, I'm gonna get myself out of here before I get killed! So I shifted Babe to center and moved myself to right, just to keep clear of those two. Sheer self-preservation on my part. But the Babe learned fast. He had a fine throwing arm and did things instinctively."

"You may want to do a little autograph trading and I understand it takes five Hoovers to get one Babe Ruth.✱"

"They may have written more about the Babe than about George Washington or Abraham Lincoln. All I can say new about Ruth is that he hit for power--not average--and had a lifetime batting average of .342. Dead ball or lively ball, he'd hit 60 home runs if they were pitching him softballs."

"The first game was tied when the ninth inning came up. Williams retired the first two Red Sox batters. Ruth strode to the plate. The fans were calling for a home run. It was one of the first occasions on which fans exhibited a real belief in the potentiality of their hero. Fans had always called for home runs but most of the time their demands had been born of desperation rather than hope. Ruth justified their faith that day by walloping a long home run over the LEFT FIELD FENCE off Williams, a LEFTHANDED PITCHER. The magnitude of that feat will be lost on the newer fans today, but back in 1919 it was nothing short of colossal. Left-handed batters just did not hit home runs off lefthanded pitchers over the left field wall. After the game, the Chicago White Sox players, who had not yet been touched by the taint of crookedness, crowded the Boston clubhouse shaking hands with Ruth, yelling congratulations, shouting, "Where'd you get that drive?" Even the losing pitcher, Lefty Williams, came in to express his horrified disbelief to the Babe."

"I could hardly wait for the next morning's news stories. Despite the defeat, I thought some praiseworthy mention would be made of my ten perfect innings. Then I had my first lesson in the cost of playing with the world's greatest ball player. Quite properly the headlines screamed the news of Babe's cracking the home run record. Vivid descriptions of his 28th homer clearing the grandstand roof. But no mention of me. Down at the end of the piece one line was given to the Boston pitcher. It said, "Hoyt pitched for Boston." I was to know another version of that incident in after years, again Ruth's teammate. As our Yankee ball club pulled into tour cities, the sports pages would say, "Ruth and twenty-four other ball players arrived in town today." This was the price we paid playing with the big fellow—but it was worth it. Babe returned it to us ten times over, and none of us who played with him would ever trade that experience for all the headlines in the country."

"God, we liked that big son of a bitch. He was a constant source of joy."

"1) Gehrig hits flat-footed. Ruth stands with feet together, poised, before stepping into the ball. 2) Gehrig doesn't start his swing until the ball is almost on top of him. Ruth starts his swing almost with the wind-up. 3) Gehrig, taking a shorter swing, is more consistent and harder to outguess. Ruth, with his longer swing, hits a harder, longer ball and is more likely to connect with a fast one."

"The lawyers for the candy contended that these bars were named after President Cleveland's little daughter, Baby Ruth. Their contention was that the little, fair-haired infant who was born two generations ago was still the idol of millions, that they were devouring the confection in her honor, and that it would be a high crime against all our Anglo-Saxon institutions to let a vague, obscure baseball-player attempt to cash in on her glory. The federal courts sustained this argument, and the Babe cannot use his name in the candy racket without paying damages or going to jail for contempt."

"The Babe is just as entitled to his $85,000 a year as the money earned by any entertainer—and there's a score or more of these persons who have incomes larger than that which Ruth demands. One might say that his demand is based on the old theory of supply and demand. It's useless to compare his salary with that of President Hoover or the big business executives of the country. They can be replaced by other men of practically the same ability but there's been only one Ruth in the history of baseball.✱"

"The hardest hitter the world has ever seen, and he ought to last, too, for some years to come."

"Ruth did point, sure. He definitely raised his right arm. I can remember that. But he did not point to center field. He indicated he'd hit a home run. But as far as pointing to center, no... that was something the sportswriters made up. My gosh, a guy would have to be crazy to do that, with two strikes on him and against a pitcher like Root."

"As an outfielder, he had good hands and a good arm, and he was pretty fast for a big man. I never saw him drop a fly ball, and he never threw to the wrong base. He hit a lot of homers, of course, but he also had a high average. He even looked good striking out."

"Ruth personified an entire period, the Roaring '20s, which personified America. Nobody roared louder than Ruth."

"Now this isn't no reflection on neither of these pitchers which I hope is still friends of mine, but if I was managing a ball club in the American League, I would tell them how to pitch to this bird. I would stand on the mound and throw the first ball to first base and the second ball to second base and the third ball to third base, and then I would turn around and heave the fourth one out in right field, because he couldn't be in all those places at once, and further and more they's a rule that makes a batter stand in the batter's box and if a person pitches in that direction with this guy up why all you can say about them is that they're a sucker."

"An ingenious theory has arisen regarding the catapultic bat of Babe Ruth, which may explain how it is possible this early in the season for a batter to pile up twenty-three home runs. It seems Babe is a human being built on colossal proportions and that he is not overly fond of running bases at the fast and furious gait of his contemporary, Ty Cobb. To save his lumbering body the effort, therefore, he hits the ball over the fence and makes the circuit of the four bases at his leisure. That is as satisfactory an explanation as any other. The ways of laziness are indeed clever. Some there are who contend that most of the labor-saving devices that have revolutionized modern industries have sprung from the fertile brains, set in inactive bodies, of lazy men. Constructive laziness is, according to that school of thinking, a boon to humanity and a blazer of progress. Ruth, finding base-running inconvenient, devises a means of overcoming it and is hailed as the home run king of the world, admired of thousands and becomes the recipient of fat pay checks at whose figures the merely industrious man gasps."

"Most enthusiasts think of Ruth only as a mighty batsman. As a matter of fact, he is a very finished outfielder with a marvelous throwing arm. . . Ruth plays a hard-hit ball as well as any outfielder in the business. He goes after a ground ball like an infielder, and for all his size he is a smart and daring base runner."

"On hearing that Mr. George Herman Ruth had signed to accept an annual salary of $5,000 less than the President of the United States a dirty-faced little boy approached the flopping idol as he left the brewery of his employer, Colonel Jacob Ruppert. "Say it ain't true, Babe!. Oh, say it ain't true!" pleaded the little lad in a treble of anguish. The great left-hander bowed his head. He could not meet the accusatory gaze of the little lad. His lips trembled as he tried to frame a reply. Then he dashed the tears from his eyes and hurried away, leaving the little boy slumped across the steps of the brewery, sobbing as though his heart would break. It must be true! The effects of these revelations will become obvious in the very near future. This is a commercial age, and the youth of the land will want to become Presidents instead of Babe Ruths. Of course there will be a few who will retain enough of their boyhood ideas to exclaim, "I would rather be left-handed than President," but the majority will look upon the Babe as an idol with plaster of paris feet. The political outlook for the future is ominous."

"That's the kind of hitter for me. The man who can lean against the ball and send it on a ride when there are men ahead of him is the only batter worth thinking about in baseball. There are many players with big batting averages who never advance a runner. Give me the man who meets the ball when a hit will do the most good. He will be a valuable man, no matter what the averages tell."

"Delahanty was different. He could hit a baseball as hard as any man I have ever seen, but even when taking a terrific smash at a ball, he could drive it into right or left, as the case demanded. I have never seen a hard hitter who could place his drives as Del could. Babe Ruth is a mighty walloper, but Ruth has no idea whether he is going to drive a ball to right, center or left. He merely takes the old wallop and lets nature do the rest. Most of the present-day sluggers belong to that type. In fact, I don't know of one who can combine both systems—who can tear into a ball and place it at the same time."

"My choice of an all-time, all-star team? I'll tell you: Honus Wagner, shortstop and lead-off man, Ty Cobb in center, Willie Keeler in right field, Babe Ruth in left, batting fourth, Lou Gehrig behind him and at first, Rogers Hornsby at second, Jimmy Collins at third, Roger Bresnahan catching and Christy Mathewson and Walter Johnson pitching. What a team of sweet hitting, sweet fielding, sweet pitching players that would be. I'd include Ruth as a drawing card and a home run hitter, rather than as a player. But nothing like that will ever happen in baseball, for every manager will always have one or two weak spots."

"Reginald McKenna's views were presented at some length last month in this publication, with a personality sketch; but it so happened that no mention was made of the fact that the former Chancellor of the British Exchequer is a baseball fan. Is a fan, we say, not was, as the sequence of tenses requires in the foregoing sentence; for at the time the Right Honorable Mr. McKenna was interviewed for The Nation's Business he was not a fan. He was a virgin to baseball. He had not seen a game, Big League or Little. On the last day of his stay he attended a set-to at the Polo Grounds between the Giants and the Yankees in that series which has not become history. A letter was received the other day from Mr. McKenna, acknowledging receipt of a baseball inscribed with the signature of George Herman Ruth, known for short as Babe. The ball was sent to him as a souvenir, and in his thank-you he said: "Never did anyone become a fully-developed 'fan' as rapidly as I. It was a case of love at first sight with Babe Ruth, and I shall cherish the memento you have sent me of that glorious afternoon.""

"Babe's interviewer interrupted to point the hole in which Babe put himself Saturday when he pointed out the spot he intended hitting his home run and asked the Great Man if he realized how ridiculous he would have appeared if he had struck out? "I never thought of it," said the Great Man. He simply had made up his mind to hit a home run and he did."

"George Herman Ruth has gobs of jack, He drags in shekels with a rake; He buys his diamonds by the sack— He's settin' jake. He recks not of the ancient Greeks, He couldn't write a simple thesis; He's dumb, but, Bo, his money speaks— He's rich as Croesus. Yet though I struggle with Greek roots And cursed verbs that floor me flat, Think you I'd like to fill his boots? Youbetcherhat!"

"Guy Bush, the Chicago pitcher, was up on the top step of the dugout, jawing back at him as he took his turn at bat this time. Bush pushed back his big ears, funneled his hands to his mouth, and yelled raspingly at the great man to upset him. The Babe laughed derisively and gestured at him, "Wait, mugg; I'm going to hit one out of the yard." Root threw a strike past him and he held up a finger to Bush, whose ears flapped excitedly as he renewed his insults. Another strike passed him and Bush crawled almost out of the hole to extend his remarks. The Babe held up two fingers this time. Root wasted two balls and the Babe put up two fingers on his other hand. Then, with a warning gesture of his hand to Bush, he sent him the signal for the customers to see. "Now," it said, "this is the one. Look!" And that one went riding in the longest home run ever hit in the park. He licked the Chicago ball club, but he left the people laughing when he said goodbye, and it was a privilege to be present because it is not likely that the scene will ever be repeated in all its elements. Many a hitter may make two home runs, or possibly three, in world series play in years to come, but not the way babe Ruth hit these two. Nor will you ever see an artist call his shot before hitting one of the longest drives ever made on the grounds, in a world series game, laughing and mocking the enemy with two strikes gone."

"The Babe's public was expanding and I was assigned to catch the Yankees in St. Louis, interview him exhaustively for his life story, and rush back to New Jersey to put it into deathless prose. I waylaid him in the lobby every night and tried to mousetrap him. I wheedled with Ping Bodie, his roommate. But he never came home and just appeared at and disappeared from the ball park every day. On the Saturday, night we went up to Chicago, but he played cards all night. On the Sunday morning, he went to mass and then played sandlot ball with a lot of kids until about noon. I then had 15 minutes with him and went back to New York where George Buchanan Fife, of the Evening World, and I produced 80,000 words, some of them very good, in four days, turn and turn-about. We got nothing extra, but I believe the Babe got $500."

"He would drink a highball, smoke a cigar and chew tobacco--all at the same time."

"Easter is the only player I ever saw who can hit a ball as far as Babe Ruth."

"A salary equal to that of President Hoover is not enough for "Babe Ruth," darling of the American baseball world, and the hero of every schoolboy in the U.S. The offer of a contract of 75,000 dollars per annum by the owner of the New York Yankees, for whom the Sultan of Swat (as the baseball writers call him) plays, has been peremptorily declined, the canny "Babe" demanding instead a three-year contract at 85,000 dollars yearly.✱"

"When Babe Ruth goes after a run To establish his place in the sun, He can make any hurler Or pitcher or twirler Look like the Crown Prince of Verdun."

"Babe Ruth might consider Mr. Gray's lines as to where "the paths of glory" lead to. Buck Freeman, who held the 25 home run record for twenty years, is now an umpire."

"The entry that sticks his dome above the crowd becomes an open target for the first wayfarer who strolls along with a bludgeon or a snickersnee. We have received numerous letters stating openly that "Babe" Ruth was a detriment to the Yankees rather than an aid. We have never figured Ruth as valuable an aid as Tris Speaker or Hans Wagner, for two examples. But to say that any man is a detriment to a machine who can average something better than a run a game, exclusive of other tallies driven in, is ridiculous. Cobb cracked all records for run making when he scored 148 tallies in 1911. Ruth passed this mark last year and will break it again this season. And a run is still a run."

"The scar is still upon my heart from 1922 The blight is still upon my soul for what I failed to do But now once more the battle cry comes sweeping down the plain And I come with lifted mace to wipe away the stain... For though I fell as Lucifer in last year's jamboree They'll find another "Babe" at bat in 1923."

"The Babe is staring into space. You could read his thoughts. The bunch would soon be on the way, but he wouldn't be with them. He likes golf, but it hasn't taken the place of 50,000 spectators and the roar of the mob. No one knows better than the Babe how much he'll miss it—for a while. Just as Tunney did and Dempsey did and Bob Jones did. But he'll have his share of fun, and he won't be forgotten. He can say with Keats, in effect, "Till Time, that aged nurse, rocks me to patience." But he is still the showman. In the ball players' golf tournament at Sarasota I saw him play a pitch over a tree to the green with the ball resting in a ditch covered with water. "What a guy!" Mickey Cochrane said as the ball hit the green and the Babe came out covered with mud. What a guy!—doubled and redoubled."

"Babe Ruth fills the public eye, not only because he is a great pitcher and hitter, but because the fullest use has been made of him to advertise his strength in these two departments. Babe can pitch in world's championship form and clout a home run over the fence; he can clean the bases in a pinch; and he can bring his heavy artillery into daily play by handling a first base or outfield position acceptably. In this respect, he, however, does not surpass or even equal Sisler. George is as great or a greater pitcher than Ruth. I KNOW this. He showed me his quality in major league games, too—look back at his record if you don't believe this. As a batter and all around player I leave the records to show his ability, as compared with "Babe." He batted .337 last year to Ruth's .297; he led the league in stealing bases, with 40 in an abbreviated season, distancing Cobb and the other stars. He was the fourth first baseman in fielding percentage; as an outfielder he showed wonderful promise. His great covering ability, fine throwing arm and daring would make him a star at any position, where Ruth would be merely a defensive filler-in, tolerated because of his hitting. Save for the pitching his superiority to Ruth will not be disputed by anyone; and I myself am certain that he is also Ruth's pitching master. Why is it that Ruth is so much more prominent than Sisler, and draws twice as much salary as the St Louisan? The answer is that Sisler has not been exploited beyond 50 per cent of his publicity value, and not more than 70 per cent of his playing efficiency."

"He can hit a ball twice as hard as any of the oldtimers. Delahanty? Pooh, don't make me laugh! Two of his best wouldn't equal one of Ruth's long hits. It's his stance. Do you notice the way he stands at the plate and gets the full play of his body into the swing? There never was one of the oldtimers that stood that way. There is a scientific reason for it. I was reading what Grantland Rice had to say about stance. [...] And, anyhow, you can tell the world that Babe Ruth is the hardest hitter of them all. You won't have to prove it, either. The old Orioles admit it, and when the old Orioles speak from their hearts 'tis the last word in baseball."

"I wonder if there are any more Ruths hanging around loose in the sticks. There might be. I always have maintained that many a good one never got the chance to crash into the big leagues. I wonder. Here was Ruth down in Baltimore growing up to be the greatest attraction in baseball right in our backyard, as it were, and busting home runs right in our very faces. Did we know it? I'll tell you the first time that Ruth was called to my attention. It was when the Robins were playing the Baltimore team. I heard that they had a hitter by the name of Ruth, and I told Casey Stengel, our right fielder, to lay back for him. Casey did lay back, but Ruth sent the ball a mile over his head. The next time Ruth came to bat Casey said: "I'll lay back so far this time that the sucker can't get the ball by me." And he did lay back till it looked ridiculous. But again came Ruth, and he shot the ball over Stengel's head for another homer. Yet in spite of this Ruth was farmed out with the minors before he got into the Red Sox line-up regularly."

"They offered Babe Ruth the same salary that Mr. Hoover gets. Babe claims he should have more. He can't appoint a commission to go up and knock the home runs; he has to do it all himself.✱"

"Fanning this Ruth is not as easy as the name and occupation might indicate. In the third frame Ruth knocked the slant out of one of Jack Warhop's underhanded subterfuges, and put the baseball in the right field stand for a home run. Ruth was discovered by Jack Dunn in a Baltimore school a year ago when he had not yet attained his lefthanded majority, and was adopted, and adapted, by Jack for the uses of the Orioles. He is now quite a pitcher and a demon hitter—when he connects."

"You can't manage yourself, Root. How do you expect to manage others?"