Babe Ruth

Babe Ruth arrived in New York City at the best possible time for his outsized hitting and hedonistic lifestyle. It was the Roaring Twenties, the Jazz Age, a time of individualism, more progressive social and sexual attitudes, and a greater emphasis on the pursuit of pleasure. (Prohibition, instituted in 1920, had no effect whatsoever.) Sportswriter Westbrook Pegler called it “the Era of Wonderful Nonsense.”

During his five full seasons with the Boston Red Sox, Babe Ruth established himself as one of the premier left-handed pitchers in the game, began his historic transformation from moundsman to slugging outfielder, and was part of three World Series championship teams. After he was sold to the New York Yankees in December 1919, his eye-popping batting performances over the next few seasons helped usher in a new era of long-distance hitting and high scoring, effectively bringing down the curtain on the Deadball Era.

Leigh Montville, author of The Big Bam, called Ruth “the patron saint of American possibility”. Ruth’s obituary in the New York Times concluded: “Probably nowhere in all the imaginative field of fiction could one find a career more dramatic and bizarre than that portrayed in real life by George Herman Ruth.” (source SABR)

Entries in “1927: The Diary of Myles Thomas”

Babe Ruth's Biggest Blunder: Memories of 1926  (April 14, 1927)

What’s Babe Ruth Like?  (April 20, 1927) 
He’s like a lost boy, and every boy in America sees that. They all see a bit of themselves in Ruth. He’s big and ugly, so not a lot of boys really want to be Babe Ruth. But they all feel that they are Babe Ruth, in some real way. And the Babe knows that. He feels like a symbol to them. But he also feels like he’s their pal. Like every kid is his best friend.

Lou Gehrig: A Terrible Loneliness  (April 25, 1927)
To complete the picture: the Babe was standing next to his locker — completely naked, while smoking a cigar butt that a few minutes earlier I caught him picking up off the bathroom floor — and his ample, uncovered backside was less than a foot from Lou’s movie-star handsome face, as Lou was sitting in front of his locker reading one of his Western novels.

Lou, What Do You Think?  (April 28, 1927)
Ruth and Gehrig are always bridge partners, though they are a rather odd couple. The Babe plays cards just like he plays ball: swinging for the fences, no matter the game, bridge or poker, and no matter the hand. He’s constantly over-bidding by wild amounts, which drives the tightwad Gehrig quietly nuts.

Urban and Eddie  (May 2, 1927)

The Yankees Steal Babe Ruth's Mail  (May 4, 1927)

Pops and the Babe  (May 9, 1927)
Before Babe came along, we all played baseball one way, hitting singles, hoping for doubles, slashing at the ball, looking to steal bases and force the other team into mistakes. But the Babe changed all that. Now it’s all about the home run. My mind drifted back to our game last month when we’d beaten the Red Sox easily, 5–2 at the Stadium. I thought again about how, even though the two teams had combined for seven runs, the crowd had gone home disappointed because no one had hit a homer. That is Ruth’s doing. He’s not only changed the way the game is played, he’s changed the way it’s watched.

Reading and Writing Ruth's Mail  (May 13, 1927)

Miller Huggins's Yankees  (May 16, 1927)

"You Can't Get Pissed Off At Ruth. (But You Can Get Pissed Off At Koenig.)  (May 24, 1927)

Relief  (June 7, 1927)
“We’re playing the White Sox,” says Pennock, “and Bill Carrigan says, ‘Ok, Jidge, how are you gonna pitch to Shoeless Joe?’ And the Babe says, ‘Fastball, up and inside. Curveball, low and away.’
“Carrigan then asks, ‘How ya’ gonna pitch to Eddie Collins?’ And the Babe says, ‘Fastball, up and inside. Curveball, low and away.’
“Next Carrigan asks, ‘How ya’ gonna pitch to Buck Weaver?’ and the Babe says, ‘Fastball, up and inside. Curveball, low and away.’
“Carrigan and Babe do this dance for all eight ChiSox fielders, and then Carrigan says, ‘And what about Cicotte?’ The Babe says, ‘Who’s he?’
“Carrigan shouts, ‘For Chrissakes! He’s the pitcher!’
“‘Oh, yeah,’ says Babe. “The pitcher? Fuck him. Fastball, up and inside. Curveball, low and away’.”

The Best Seat in the House  (June 13, 1927)

The Appearance of Control  (June 17, 1927)

Coney Island  (June 27, 1927)
When the Babe first came up to the bigs, he was such a rube that he used to ride the hotel elevators, up and down, for hours at a time. Just plain elevators. For hours.

Eels and Inventions  (July 19, 1927)

Cabbage and Ribs  (July 19, 1927)
People are always giving the Babe crazy ideas, which he always repeats to us, as if each one is the secret of life. One of my favorites is how all the teams should have women broadcast their games on the radio, because men will listen to anyone, and a woman’s voice would attract more female listeners. The Babe loved that idea, but everyone else laughed at it.

The MVP: George Burns  (July 30, 1927)

The Babe and His Pal Bix  (August 3, 1927)

Benny and Berg  (August 9, 1927)

"Hey, Rooms?"  (August 16, 1927)
Whenever the Babe takes batting practice everyone stops what they’re doing — the guys on our team, our opponents, the managers and coaches of both squads, all the writers, the vendors in the stands, cops, bookies — because no one wants to miss the moment.

The W*p Bets Against The Yankees  (August 26, 1927)

Feeling Sick  (September 12, 1927)

The Babe In Court  (September 17, 1927)
The Babe has a deep compassion for the weakest among us — kids, the physically infirm, even the mentally damaged, like Neimeyer. I mean, here he is, dragged into court by a lunatic (and an idiot assistant DA), and rather than be angry, he’s full of genuine pity for the guy.

A Serious Man  (September 18, 1927)

Babe Ruth Is On A Tear  (September 27, 1927)
Ruth is not an overly analytical hitter, and “What’s this guy got?” is about the extent of his homework. Partially that’s because Jidge can’t remember faces, or connect them to names. For example, he knows when Lefty Grove is on the mound, and he knows that Grove’s a great fastball pitcher — but if Lefty walks up to the Babe before or after the game, there’s zero chance Ruth will recognize him. Heck, President Coolidge could walk up to Ruth and Jidge wouldn’t know who he was. Honest.

The Babe & The Beast  (September 29, 1927)

The Play Is Done  (September 30, 1927)
The crack of Ruth’s bat sets off an explosion that lights up the Stadium, like a bolt of lightning. All of us — the fans in the stands and the players on both teams — rise as one, pulled out of our seats by the flight of the ball.
Ruth slowly leaves the batter’s box, taking his time to admire his handiwork. He lets his bat fall from his hands, as he has hundreds of times before — more than any man who has ever walked the earth — and slowly strides up the first base line.
Higher and higher the ball soars, as graceful as any bird has ever flown, until it finally finds its nest halfway up the grandstands in right field.
It’s not simply Ruth’s 60th home run. It’s immortality.

World Series Game 1. (“My Advice Is Start Drinking Heavily.”)(October 5, 1927)

"We Want Cuyler!"  (October 6, 1927)

The Season Is Over  (October 8, 1927)

The Pitch Of My Life  (October 14, 1927)
“Last thoughts?” ponders the Babe. “Hmmmm. How’s this?”
The writers raise their pens and hold them just above their pads in anticipation of the lead quote for their stories, which will run in tomorrow’s papers.
Each writer is acutely aware that he is standing in front of the greatest baseball player of all time, inside the locker room of the greatest baseball team of all time. It doesn’t matter how cynical they may be, all of them feel privileged to have witnessed history. Now they are poised to record history’s first draft, to memorialize the Babe’s final words of the season, which tomorrow morning will appear in every newspaper, in every city across America.
The Babe rips a tremendous fart, then shouts, “Fuck the Pirates!”