People From Baltimore

"Ruth, as I remember him, had a great personality. He was a perennial big kid. I guess he never really grew up. But that's one of the reasons we all loved him. He had an overpowering amount of energy, both on and off the field, and was always on the go. During one period, the Babe was hustling around so much after dark that when a reporter in Wichita Falls, Texas, asked me how I liked rooming with the Babe, I replied, "I'm rooming with a suitcase." I thought that was the best way I could describe the Babe's continual battle with manager Miller Huggins' curfew."

"I roomed with a suitcase. About the only time I saw him was at the ballpark or on a train. He couldn't come through a hotel lobby without being mobbed by fans. If he ate at the hotel, diners pestered him for autographs and his food got cold. I got to know him best on sleeper jumps. He loved to play poker. First thing he'd do on boarding the train would be to peel off his jacket and shirt and holler for a deck of cards."

"He roomed with Babe Ruth for a couple of years-according to the records. “But I never saw much of him," he said later. “I roomed with a suitcase. About the only time I saw him was when we were on train trips. Then we played cards and drank beer for hour upon hour.""

"Rooming with him. Why, I room with the big monkey's baggage."

"Ten years to the day after he signed his first Yankee contract, calling for $10,000, Babe Ruth today nonchalantly rejected an offer of $75,000, the salary paid the president of the United States.✱"

"You know how Ruth hits those home runs around the circuit, and I doubt if his total would be reduced by as many as three or four. Ruth hits them into the street in Cleveland, where there is a 45-foot screen in right field. He hits them out of the park in Detroit, St. Louis and Philadelphia. Screens would not bother him but would cut down the number of home-run hitters. At present, players who have no right to be swinging for homers are using the Ruth type of hitting. I think it's time to step in and do something to cut down the mania. The public wants the lively ball, with the speed it has brought into baseball, but it doesn't want a flock of cheap home runs. And it would appreciate a return of some of the older sort of hitting. By all means let us not do anything to really hamper a man like Ruth."

"Ruth can hit the ball farther than anyone I ever saw. There has never been anyone like him and I don't think there ever will be. I hope he lives to hit one-hundred homers in a season. I wish him all the luck in the world. He has everybody else hopelessly outclassed, including myself."

"He had real good stuff. I mean real good. His fast ball took off and his curve was quick. And he could get the ball over. He was always around the plate. It was funny, though. He had a cute trick of sticking out his tongue on a curve ball. But even though you knew it was coming, you had trouble hitting it. I caught him once in California in an exhibition game one fall. He still had something left. I remember we beat the other team managed by Ty Cobb, 8-7, and Ty sure hated to lose."

"He was going on my show. I introduce him and this big, garrulous guy – he can’t say a word. Mute. I read his script on air and now I’m Ruth as Babe tries to compose himself, smoking and leaning against the wall. You know something? We pull it off. I sign off and Babe hasn’t made a sound."

"Yesterday's home runs don't win today's games"

"There's been so many lovely things said about me, and I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to thank everybody. Thank you."

"The only real game — I think — in the world is baseball."

"Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. You know how bad my voice sounds. Well, it feels just as bad. You know this baseball game of ours comes up from the youth. That means the boys. And after you've been a boy, and grow up to know how to play ball, then you come to the boys you see representing themselves today in our national pastime."

"I copied Jackson's style because I thought he was the greatest hitter I had ever seen, the greatest natural hitter I ever saw. He's the guy who made me a hitter."

"I'll promise to go easier on drinking and to get to bed earlier, but not for you, fifty thousand dollars, or two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars will I give up women. They're too much fun."

"Every strike brings me closer to the next home run."

"I swing as hard as I can, and I try to swing right through the ball. In boxing, your fist usually stops when you hit a man, but its possible to hit so hard that your fist doesn't stop. I try to follow through in the same way. The harder you grip the bat, the more you can swing it through the ball, and the farther the ball will go. I swing big, with everything I've got. I hit big or I miss big. I like to live as big as I can."

"If I'd just tried for them dinky singles I could've batted around six hundred!"

"Keed, I'll give you a little bit of advice. Don't believe anything they write about you, good or bad. Two, get the dough while the getting is good, but don't break your heart trying to get it. And don't pick up too many checks!"

"I only have one superstition: I make sure to touch all the bases when I hit a home run."

"If it wasn't for baseball, I'd be in either the penitentiary or the cemetery. I have the same violent temper my father and older brother had. Both died of injuries from street fights in Baltimore, fights begun by flare-ups of their tempers."

"A ballplayer should quit when it starts to feel as if all the baselines run uphill."

"Yes, he's a prick, but he sure can hit. God Almighty, that man can hit!"

"I guess I should have written two books of my life, one for the adults and another for the kids."

"Leo never was much of a hitter. I tried to help him once. I suggested that he become a switch-hitter and that if he did, his average would jump up to .400. "Two hundred right-handed and two hundred left," I said."

"We had a lot of fun with Casey all through the Series. There never was anything abusive about him. We rode him just to hear his clownish comebacks. I know I kidded him plenty. And when he won the 1 to 0 game, he ran around the bases with his thumb to his nose and his hand pointed to the Yankee bench. I think it was meant for me in particular as he tried to show me he, too, knew how to hit home runs. Ruppert didn't like it and later said it was undignified. But we didn't mind Casey having his fun."

"I didn't mean to hit the umpire with the dirt, but I did mean to hit that bastard in the stands."

"It was at St. Mary’s that I met and learned to love the greatest man I’ve ever known. His name was Brother Matthias. He was the father I needed. He taught me to read and write — and he taught me the difference between right and wrong."

"I think my mother hated me."

"I was a bad kid. I say this without pride but with a feeling that it is better to say it. I live with one great hope: to help kids who now stand where I stood as a boy. If what I have to say here helps even one of them avoid some of my own mistakes, or take heart from such triumphs as I have had, this book will serve its purpose."

"I'm glad you finally signed up, Hank. A man's got to keep playing, if he's fit. Keep looking out for yourself. Keep your wind. That's everything. You'll like the National League, Hank. Especially the ballparks. I got a bum break when I went over there, but that was just accidental. You'll be okay. They'll curve-ball you a lot, and you'll find they think a one-run lead is something nice to sit back and rest on. But otherwise it's the same baseball we played. Don't give up until every base is uphill. I played just a little too long. About a week or so. I should have quit that day in Pittsburgh—I was with the Braves, you know—when I got three home runs and was gypped out of a fourth one by one of the Waners. That should have been curtains. But I had promised old man Fuchs that I'd hang around for his Memorial Day crowd. Too bad."

"Going to tell you something, Hank. Hand me that bat. Now I'm going to show you the whole secret of how I hit those home runs. Only fellow I ever told it to was Lou Gehrig, when poor Lou first came up to the Yanks and Miller Huggins was trying to make a left-field hitter out of him. Look. See how this grip makes your wrist break at the right moment? Throws the whole weight of the bat into the ball. With this grip, you've just got to follow through. I kept it a secret a long time."

"They did that to me in the American League one year. I coulda hit .600 that year slicing singles to left. [Interviewer asks why he didn't do so.] That's not what the fans came out to see."

"They say I used to scare pitchers just by strolling to the plate but those guys always had a remedy for me. Whenever they were afraid I'd knock one out of the park, they'd walk me and their worries would be over. But once Cobb got on base then their worries really began. He would upset not only the pitcher or catcher, but the infield as well by going from first to third on a sacrifice bunt, scoring from second on an infield out, taking two bases on an outfield fly and making delayed steals. Fans still talk about the home run I hit in the 1932 World Series off Charley Root of the Cubs after I pointed to the rightfield stands. Well, I once remember Cobb beating out four bunts down the third base line in one game against Billy Bradley, a wonderful third baseman for Cleveland. That was after Cobb warned Bradley he would bunt to him every time he got up. Another time Cobb warned Lou Criger, a great catcher with Boston, that he would steal second, third and home on him first chance he got. Well, the first time up Cobb walked and on three pitches stole second, third and home against the dumbfounded Criger."

"Make no mistake about that. The old boy was the greatest player I ever saw or hope to see. When I was pitching I had fair success against all the other great hitters, but Cobb was one guy I never could get out. I had a reputation for being a slugger and I guess I could hit 'em pretty far at that, but that guy Cobb could do everything--better than any player I ever saw. Old Georgia Peach was a great hitter, a spectacular fielder, a wonderfui thrower and oh boy, how he could run."

"Nobody but a blankety-blank fool would-a done what I did that day. When I think what-a idiot I'd a been if I'd struck out and I could-a, too, just as well as not because I was mad and I'd made up my mind to swing at the next pitch if I could reach it with a bat. Boy, when I think of the good breaks in my life ... that was one of them. [...] But right now I want to settle all arguments: I din't exactly point to any spot, like the flagpole. Anyway, I didn't mean to. I just sorta waved at the whole fence, but that was foolish enough. All I wanted to do was give that thing a ride ... outta the park ... anywhere."

"One more point: A good player never stops until he's actually out, running as hard for first base on the almost-certain-to-be-caught fly or grounder as he would if he were sprinting the 100-yard dash. If Henry Ford hadn't kept going in the early days despite ridicule, we would never have seen the Ford car. It's been much the same with almost every great man you could name. He kept plugging when everybody said his chances of making first base were nil. You just can’t beat the person who never gives up."

"In pitching, control is the main thing—one thing you've got to have. Few pitchers have it. In batting, it is timing—waiting on the ball, not hurrying the swing—just as it is in golf. Most hitters in baseball swing too quickly. They can't wait on the pitch. Old Joe Jackson could wait. So could Speaker and Cobb"

"Nothing to it. Those Yankees were the best team. Figure it out. After we got going we won twelve straight World Series games—twelve in a row. It was murder. The Red Sox had the greatest outfield with Lewis, Speaker and Hooper. But the Yankees had the greatest punch baseball ever knew. We never even worried five or six runs behind. Ruth—Gehrig—Lazerri—Combs—Dickey—wham, wham, and wham—no matter who was pitching."

"My biggest home run thrill? The day I called that one on Root in the Yankee-Cub series. The whole crowd was riding me. I was riding 'em back with even rougher language. The Chicago bench was yelling "Onya—onya—onya—you big yellow bum." Root had thrown me two bad balls I didn't like. I protested both, then I pointed to the flag police in center field. I knew Root would feed me another just like the first two, so I moved up about eight inches closer and gave it the works. They tell me when they found that ball it was lopsided, shaped like an egg. I just got to thinking later what a terrible heel I'd have been that day if Root had struck me out, but I never thought of that till later. It's a good thing I didn't. What a mug I'd have been."

"Sure I'll miss it. But I'm not enough of a lunkhead to think I could go on forever. Tunney, Dempsey and Bob Jones missed the action of their games for a while, but not for long. I guess the tough part will be when the bunch blow in and I'll be up there in the stands looking on. But on the other hand I won't be dragging those aching dogs and bum legs over those hard diamonds. I can do what I want now. I'll stay and loaf here until April and then head North again. But I'll take the trip in one jump—not twenty."

"You're an awful little guy to be such a big thief."

"I suppose that American League pitchers have been feeding me soft ones for 21 years. I know how they all feel, and I don't blame 'em. They'd rather strike out the Babe than anyone else. For I've been a little lucky in the home run racket. They've walked me more than 2000 times and I've never squawked. You see, I used to be a pitcher myself. Those 2000 walks and those 700 or so home runs saved my legs. Anyhow, I've had pretty good legs. They talk about Ty Cobb's legs. He had about the best pair I ever knew of in baseball. But Ty was carrying 180 pounds for 24 years, and I've had to carry from 230 to 250 pounds. I've had to carry 50 to 70 pounds more than Cobb ever had to carry. I never talked to a horse, but I'd like to ask Equipoise or Twenty Grand or Cavalcade or some of the others just how much difference 50 or 70 pounds would make in a race. And I'm not supposed to be a horse or a tank."

"I'm out there on my own this season as a ball player. Right now, I don't think the fans care anything about me being a vice-president of the club or what I would do as a manager. That's all out this season. It's the old Babe on the old job—a ball player. It has been the only job I ever knew. It was the only job that put me where I happen to be right now. I'd rather make good as a ball player this season than anything I ever did. I'm not kidding myself. I'm not going to be any Tris Speaker in that outfield. The old dogs are going to do a lot of barking. But they've barked before. And you know—a barking dog seldom bites."

"You can bother me to autograph anything you want. When you quit bothering me to sign autographs, then I'll know I'm through. Slip me the old apple and a pen. And tell 'em to keep on bothering me."

"Honest, I was never happier in my life. I've felt that I was facing a kind of all-round challenge—the challenge of 41 years, the challenge that comes from carrying 230 pounds for 21 seasons, the challenge from a bunch of National League pitchers who want to prove that I can't hit as well in this league as I did in the American and the doubt exists that I can be of any help to our team through another year. It's keyed me up and given me a fresh target. I feel better than I have felt in four years. My legs haven't bothered me a bit. Bill McKechnie is a great guy to work for, and I am going to give him and Boston everything I have."

"Hell no, it isn't a fact. Only a damned fool would do a thing like that. You know there was a lot of pretty rough ribbing going on on both benches during that Series. When I swung and missed that first one, those Cubs really gave me a blast. So I grinned at 'em and held out one finger and told 'em it'd only take one to hit it. Then there was that second strike and they let me have it again. So I held up that finger again and I said I still had that one left. Naw, keed, you know damned well I wasn't pointin' anywhere. If I'd have done that, Root would have stuck the ball right in my ear. And besides that, I never knew anybody who could tell you ahead of time where he was going to hit a baseball. When I get to be that kind of fool, they`ll put me in the booby hatch."

"I decided to pick out the greatest hitter to watch and study, and Jackson was good enough for me. I liked the way he kept his right foot forward, being a left-handed hitter, and his left foot back. That gave him more body and shoulder power than the average hitter has."

"I'd play for half my salary if I could hit in this dump all the time."

"I don't believe that the average fellow has anything like a true line on the value of wrist action in hitting anything—a baseball, a golf ball, a tennis ball or a polo ball. If you watch most of them, you will see they are trying to hit with their bodies, with their shoulders, with their arms—with almost everything except their wrists. I think it comes because most of them are overanxious, all tied up, too tense. They start by gripping too tightly. That kills off the hands and wrists. Their wrists get locked and then they have to swing their shoulders and bodies in. You'd be surprised how far a fellow can hit a ball, using only his wrists. I know I've been caught off guard or out of position on a sharp breaking curve, have had to slap at the ball, using only my wrists and have now and then watched it sail over the fence. The wrist is the mainspring—both wrists in baseball and golf. If you get them to work the rest is fairly easy. If you don't get them to work you are not going to do any good hitting. You can't get any speed in closing a door if the hinges are rusty and won't work. Hack Wilson must have great wrist action, for no short, stocky guy is going to hit that many home runs without a lot of it."