If Your Birthday is February 6th...
George Herman Ruth, the Babe, the gold standard of sluggers... and had the Red Sox not decided his talents better suited an everyday player, he might be the most revered pitcher ever.
Born into humble surroundings, to be kind; the product of a blue collar Baltimore family unable to properly raise him and who placed him in a reform school/orphanage. Ironically, home was just a few blocks from where the city's terrific ballpark Camden Yards now stands. Do yourself a favor, take a tour of the Babe's boyhood home next time you visit the city.
Larger than life? You bet. Yet, as someone born six years after his death in 1948, I feel a bit cheated. Perhaps if medical care was more advanced or he smoked a few less cigars a week, he'd have been around when most of us boomers grew up. Going to Yankee Stadium, "The House That Ruth Built," we learned of his legend, we saw photos, heard the stories and were awed by his monument.
Imagine if he'd been there to don his number-three on Old Timers Day, throw out the first pitch on Opening Day or at a World Series opener, clown around with the Scooter in the broadcast booth, hold court with New York's legion of sportswriters -- or just visiting one more sick kid in a hospital. Nearly 80 years after his death at age 53, his memory remains remarkably vivid. I only wish he'd had the time to make more of them.
If one player symbolizes what's right about baseball, it's Babe Ruth, born on this date in 1895.
My images: Babe's plaque in Monument Park; the Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum; a statue of the Babe at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown and Babe's retired number and plaque outside Steinbrenner Field in Tampa.



Comments