People From Baltimore

"Those 10,000 fans who were here Saturday ought to thank their lucky stars for being present. That's one show they'll not soon forget or will never get tired recalling."

"The fans were on their feet yelling and waving and throwing scorecards and half-consumed frankfurters, bellowing unto high heaven that the Babe was the greatest man on earth, that the Babe was some kid, and that the Babe could have their last and bottom dollar, together with the mortgage on their house, their wives and furniture."

"I've seen some great hitters and long distance hits in my day, but none like the Babe's on Saturday. He's the greatest home run hitter of all time."

"Babe Ruth is not only a great athlete, but a great fool. His employer, Colonel Jacob Ruppert, makes millions of gallons of beer, and Ruth is of the opinion that he can drink it faster than the colonel and his large group of brewmasters can make it. Well... you can't! Nobody can. [...] You have let down the kids of America.... They have seen their idol shattered and their dream broken. [...] Babe, a kid just stopped me on the street and asked me for a dime. He wanted to make it to a quarter and buy a Babe Ruth cap. Don't you think you owe something to that kid and others like him? Or are you going to keep on letting those little kids down?"

"Did you see those balls going? They couldn't have gone any faster or further if they were shot out of a cannon."

"Who said the old Babe can't smack 'em any more? That second homer must have traveled 450 feet and the third came close to 600 if I'm not mistaken."

"The unbelievable part about the Babe, of course, was that he hit only 34 homers in the first two-thirds of the season and then smacked 26 homers in the final third. Wow! What a way to finish!"

"Well, he was only two [home runs] up on me Saturday, but we won't say anything about distance."

"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."

"Pitchers—real pitchers— know that their job isn't so much to keep opposing batsmen from hitting as it is to make them hit it at someone. The trouble with most kid pitchers is that they forget there are eight other men on the team to help them. They just blunder ahead, putting everything they have on every pitch and trying to carry the weight of the whole game on their shoulders. The result is that they tire out and go bad along in the middle of the game, and then the wise old heads have to hurry out and rescue them. I've seen a lot of young fellows come up, and they all had the same trouble. Take Lefty Grove over at Philadelphia, for instance. There isn't a pitcher in the league who has more speed or stuff than Lefty. He can do things with a baseball that make you dizzy. But when he first came into the league he seemed to think that he had to strike out every batter as he came up. The result was he'd go along great for five or six innings, and them blow. And he's just now learning to conserve his strength. In other words, he's learning that a little exercise of the noodle will save a lot of wear and tear on his arm."

"If you happen to be a baseball fan who reads the newspapers you've probably noticed that before a world series or any other big series the writers always print long stories of comparisons between individual players. They point out that Lou Gehrig, for instance, will hit a ball farther and harder than Joe Harris, but that Pie Traynor can go farther to his left than Joe Dugan. That's interesting—but so far as doping out the winner of the series is concerned, it's bunk. And it always gives the ball players a laugh. For ball players know that it isn't individuals who count. It's the way a team plays as a whole that determines its offensive power or its defensive strength. Smart ball players and smart managers consider offense and defense as units, knowing that it takes nine men to do the fielding and nine hitters to make up a batting order that will score runs."

"Speaking of that last contract signing reminds me of a good laugh I had at the expense of the newspaper boys. There were a couple of dozen of them sticking around when I signed, some of them fellows who had been traveling with the Yankees for several seasons; fellows whom I know intimately and well. Yet in their stories, every one of them wrote about me signing that contract with my left hand and some of the newspapers even ran pictures showing me signing left-handed! How they managed it I don't know—for as a matter of fact I write with my right hand now, and I always have. I'm left-handed in everything else I do, but when it comes to writing I'm as right-handed as any right-hander you ever saw. It just goes to show that people take a lot of things for granted. They don't observe things closely, particularly things about which they feel confident."

", Paramount Theatre, New York Many thanks for your saxophone received here today. I have never taken lessons but will start practicing every night and hope the hotel guests will not complain. You said you were sending book that would tell me how to play saxophone. Sorry, book not received. Best wishes. Babe Ruth"

"To My Friend John Sylvester, Just a few words reminding you that I have not forgotten my sick little pal. Sorry I couldn’t get out to see you but here’s hoping this little message of cheer finds you well on the road to recovery. I will try to knock you another homer maybe two today. Best regards from your friend and rooter, “Babe” Ruth."

"Hotter than hell, ain't it, Prez?"

"I am through—through with the pests and the good-time guys. Between them and a few crooks I have thrown away more than a quarter of a million dollars. I have been a Babe—and a Boob. I'm through." [Ruth] confesses he faces either oblivion or the hard task of complete reformation. [He] realizes that he must make good all over again. "I am going to do it," he said. "I was going to be the exception, the popular hero who could do as he pleased. But all those people were right. Babe and Boob—that was me all over. Now, though, I know that if I am to wind up sitting pretty on the world I've got to face the facts and admit I have been the sappiest of saps. All right, I admit it. I haven't any desire to kid myself."

""Don't worry about my weight. Fifteen pounds more and I'll be grand. I never felt better in my life. I'm going to lead the league in batting again and maybe I'll make a new home run record."

"Ruth studied opposing hitters, and he studied his own pitchers. He knew how and where every batter could be expected to hit any particular pitch. Consequently, he did a great job of playing the hitter. Many a time on the Detroit or St. Louis bench, I've seen Ruth pull down a hard-hit ball and hear the batter come back to the dugout muttering: "What was that big slob doing playing me there?" The Babe had just played him smart, that's all—moved over a couple of steps according to the pitch, and according to his judgment as to how far, how hard, and whence that batter could be expected to hit that pitch. Ruth never made mistakes in the field. He always threw to the right base, and he had a fine arm—not like Speaker or Meusel, but you couldn't take chances against him."

"In the nineteen-twenties, visiting Britons took in a visit to the Yankee Stadium to see the Babe in action as dutifully as they went to Niagara, Washington, Mt. Vernon. They inferred an approximate tribute in regarding Ruth as the American Jack Hobbs. However, it is no slight to any cricketer, living or dead, or even to the redoubtable Ty Cobb, the master of the baseball ancients, to say that Ruth was the W.G. Grace of baseball. He was not only a player of unapproachable skill but he transformed the game from an affair of sacrifices, stealing bases, agile lobs that had the batters hopping traditionally from one base to the next, to constant strain after the one huge hit that had the men at base rolling home like trotting ponies, while the scoreboard clocked runs with a one-two-three alacrity. The fluid pattern of the modern game, and its continuous suspense through "the one big inning," is wholly his creation."

"He was a superman and yet his legs were spindly. He was a big florid man, yet all his movements were dainty as a squirrel's. He was gentle to children and could be blasphemous to adults. He was Hercules with bat in hand, but he was Hercules done by Disney. And this unfailing whimsicality, of gesture and mood, tempered by the inhumanity of his skill, made him at one with his audience, made it possible, in the subtle Chaplin way, for the lame and fumbling and the mousy to see in him the embodiment of their delusions of power and fame."

"Words fail me. When he stood up there at the bat before 50,000 persons, calling the balls and the strikes with gestures for the benefit of the Cubs in their dugout, and then with two strikes on him, pointed out where he was going to hit the next one and hit it there, I gave up. That fellow is not human."

"It's remarkable. When I wrote the book, Ruth had been dead 25 years. He had not played ball in almost 40. And yet every day I would see his name in the newspaper or in various references, somewhere. Now it's 18 years later, and the same thing is still going on."

"Willie made his bid for fame by "hitting them where they ain't." Babe Ruth hits 'em where they never were."

"He is not only a drawing card on the field, but off of it as well. While in Pittsburgh last week, he paid a visit to The Press office, and the busy wheels of the newspaper plant almost stopped as employees gathered about just to look at him. And when Ruth overheard one of them say: "He's not the ugliest man I ever saw," a broad grin overspread his features, and he called: "Thanks for those kind words.""

"And in 1932, I saw that Babe Ruth home run against the Cubs in the World Series, and I definitely know he pointed to center field. There was no doubt about it. He did call his shot."

"So the Babe's through, eh? He doesn't have to run if he hits 'em like that. Too bad the Braves aren't here today, or the fans would be fighting to get into the park."

"He still had that marvelous swing, and what a follow-through, just beautiful, like a great golfer. But he was forty years old. He couldn’t run, he could hardly bend down for a ball, and of course he couldn’t hit the way he used to. One of the saddest things of all is when an athlete begins to lose it … and to see it happening to Babe Ruth, to see Babe Ruth struggling on a ball field, well, then you realize we’re all mortal and nothing lasts forever."

"As for the booze-begotten yarn about Babe Ruth's 'called-shot,' I was there that day—at the elbow of Damon Runyon, no less, assigned to provide Runyon with any information he wanted about the Cubs or anyone else. No one in the press box or emergency press box that day, nobody at the press party that evening, and no one the next day even mentioned the incident except to emphasize the bitter exchange between the Cubs and Yankees. Charlie Root first laughed and, in his later years, grew angry when asked about it. One of the last letters I had from Dorothy Root before she died thanked me as a prophet of truth and the Babe himself, in Boston in 1935, said to me pretty much the same as your quote from Hal Totten.✱"

"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."

"I've got five big years ahead of me now, and I guess I'll have five more after that. What's the use of going further along than that? I haven't even thought of quitting the game. I feel like I was just starting in to begin. 'Course baseball is different from anything else. Look at those birds sitting across the lobby. They are business men, getting 'fit' for the season, too. But they are middle-aged, and gray and in what you birds call the prime of life. I'll be 33 when my new contract ends and a lot of people are reading me out of the game already. I'm going to be a business man, too, in baseball. Experience helps you a lot in this game, just as in any other."

"A man who works for another is not going to be paid any more than he is worth; you can bet on that. A man ought to get what he can earn. Don't make any difference whether it's running a farm, running a bank or running a show; a man who knows he's making money for other people ought to get some of the profits he brings in. It's business, I tell you. There ain't no sentiment to it. Forget that stuff."

"I am going through with my barnstorming tour to the end. Bob Meusel and the other Yanks on my club agree with me that it will not hurt the game, as Landis fears. In fact, if anything, it will create more interest in next year's campaign for me to play out this tour. If Landis wants to put me out of organized baseball, let him do so. I will continue the tour."

"The one that I missed."

"I'm glad that I've played every position on the team, because I feel that I know more about the game and what to expect of the other fellows. Lots of times I hear men being roasted for not doing this or that when I know, from my all round experience, that they couldn't have been expected to do it. It's a pity some of our critics hadn't learned the game from every position."

"There is one hit of mine which will not stay in the official records, but which I believe to be the longest clout ever made off a major league pitcher. At least some of the veteran sport writers told me they never saw such a wallop. The Yanks were playing an exhibition game with the Brooklyn Nationals at Jacksonville, Fla., in April, 1920. Al Mamaux was pitching for Brooklyn. In the first inning, the first ball he sent me was a nice, fast one, a little lower than my waist, straight across the heart of the plate. It was the kind I murder, and I swung to kill it. The last time we saw the ball it was swinging its way over the 10-foot outfield fence of Southside Park and going like a shot. The ball cleared the fence by at least 75 feet. Let's say the total distance traveled was 500 feet: the fence was 423 feet from the plate. If such a hit had been made at the Polo Grounds, I guess the ball would have come pretty close to the top of the screen in the centerfield bleachers."

"There's one thing in baseball that always gets my goat and that's the intentional pass. It isn't fair to the batter. It isn't fair to his club. It's a raw deal for the fans and it isn't baseball. By "baseball," I mean good square American sportsmanship because baseball represents America in sport. If we get down to unfair advantages in our national game we are putting out a mighty bad advertisement."

"I always swing at the ball with all my might. I hit or miss big and when I miss I know it long before the umpire calls a strike on me, for every muscle in my back, shoulders and arms is groaning, "You missed it." And be­lieve me, it is no fun to miss a ball that hard. Once I put myself out of the game for a few days by a miss like that."

"Brother Matthias had the right idea about training a baseball club. He made every boy on the team play every position in the game, including the bench. A kid might pitch a game one day and find himself behind the bat the next or perhaps out in the sun-field. You see Brother Matthias' idea was to fit a boy to jump in in any emergency and make good. So whatever I have at the bat or on the mound or in the outfield or even on the bases, I owe directly to Brother Matthias."

"That's easy. The new rules have made these pitchers turn square, and their offerings have been clouted. I know some pitchers who used the old emery and the shiner and all the rest, and they were bearcats. Now they have to get by on their natural ability and they don't rate so high. I can think of one pitcher who was a wonder last year. They took the old sail ball away from him, and now he hasn't enough to get by in a good class AA league. So it goes. They say that the ball is livelier. I think that is the old bunk. The pitchers are not pitching as they used to and the batters have a better chance."

"I'm afraid that someday I'll kill some pitcher. It is one thing I've always dreaded. My heart stood still in that game in Detroit when I almost got Ehmke with that drive through the box. I thought for a certainty that the ball would hit him before he got his hands up to protect himself. A couple of pitchers have asked me not to hit the ball back at them, and I always try not to. Why should I try to hurt any ball players? We are all out there trying to make a living, and no man worthwhile would deliberately try to injure another."

"You can say for me that I will not play with the Red Sox unless I get $20,000. You may think that sounds like a pipe dream, but it is the truth. I feel that I made a bad move last year when I signed a three years' contract to play for $30,000. The Boston club realized much on my value and I think I am entitled to twice as much as my contract calls for. The contract has two years to run, I know. It may be ironbound as far as the Boston club is concerned, but I think with the 10-day clause in it I am entitled to the same privileges as the club. Well, that is a matter for the owners to right, and as my business is in another direction just at present I am going to wait to hear from them."

"I can't honestly say that I appreciate the way in which he changed baseball — from a game of science to an extension of his powerful slugging — but he was the most natural and unaffected man I ever knew. No one ever loved life more. No one ever inspired more youngsters. I have reverence for his marvelous ability . I look forward to meeting him again some day."

"None of these kids today can hit like he could. He could really hit a ball a long way. I remember I was in St. Pete in 1928 playing second base, or trying to, and he hit a fly ball that must have been nine miles high. I missed it by 25 feet."

"In the early days of Babe Ruth's stardom with the Yankees, he gave manager Miller Huggins many a headache with his antics off the field. You could chastise an ordinary player for breaking training rules, but what could you do about the greatest star in baseball? One day, relates Robert Smith Huggins really lost his temper. He told a reporter, "I'm going to speak to Ruth this time! You just wait and see!" At this precise moment the Babe swaggered into the hotel lobby. "There's your man," needled the reporter. "Are you really going to speak to him?" "I certainly am," insisted Huggins. "Hello, Babe!""

"No one ever requires more than one glance to identify Babe Ruth. Even a wholly ignorant person who had never heard of him would probably stop in wonder at the sight of Babe waddling by. It must be clear to all beholders that here is some great, primitive force harking back to the dim days of the race. William Jennings Bryan might well look upon the Babe and recant. To be sure, a certain ingenuity was required to fit just the proper name upon this personality. As George Herman Ruth he might have gone far but he could hardly have reached the heights. The man who made him by the gift of "Babe" ought to draw a substantial royalty from Ruth's mighty income. But probably no single individual hit upon the happy thought. Undoubtably a mass movement was required. Babe Ruth has all the vigor and vitality of a piece of folk literature."

"We picked up "Who"s Who in America" yesterday to get some vital statistics about Babe Ruth, and found to our surprise that he was not in the book. Even as George Herman Ruth there is no mention of him. The nearest name we could find was: "Roth, Filibert, forestry expert; b. Wurttemberg, Germany, April 20, 1858 [...] There is in our heart not an atom of malice against Prof. Roth (since September 1903, he has been "prof. forestry, U. Mich."), and yet we question the justice of his admission to a list of national celebrities while Ruth stands without. We know, of course, that Prof. Roth is the author of "'Forest Conditions in Wisconsin" and "The Uses of Wood," but we wonder whether he has been able to describe in words uses of wood more sensational and vital than those which Ruth has shown in deeds. Hereby we challenge the editor of "Who"s Who in America" to debate the affirmative side of the question: Resolved, That Prof. Roth's volume called "Timber Physics" has exerted a more profound influence in the life of America than Babe Ruth's 1921 home run record."

"There is no error of fact in the complaint which I present. The pages have been scanned for George Herman Ruth as well as Babe Ruth, but neither name is mentioned. [...] In the spot where one fully expected to come upon Babe Ruth, I found "Roth, Filibert, forestry expert [...]" To be sure, there are striking points of similarity in the career of the two men but they remain something less than synonyms. As far back as 1896, Professor Roth published a volume entitled "The Uses of Wood." No one dreamed at the time that it could be put to any uses as sensational as those introduced by Ruth.[...] It may be that some very plausible hypotheses are outlined in "Timber Physics" as to the best way to secure the greatest possible impact between bat and ball, but after all Roth is not under the strain of making good his beliefs before the eyes of thousands. He can be wrong, even three times in succession, and not one of his students will immediately shout "You're out!" There will be no massed ranks in the bleachers to razz him with contempt. Roth can take his time and go about his problems slowly, calmly and deliberately. No one is seeking to fool him with speed or with spitballs."

"Having broken many world's series [sic] records in one championship series, Babe Ruth, wielder of the Big Bat, demands $150,000 a year salary hereafter. Do not exclaim or "stand and gaze." One hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year isn't much, but such a baseball player as Babe Ruth is a great deal. Babe Ruth would be paid twice what we pay the President of the United States. But the fact that we pay our president too little is no reason for not paying a good baseball player what he is worth."