Perhaps the greatest baseball player ever, George Herman "Babe" Ruth holds our hearts as the most-loved Yankee slugger ever. "The house that Ruth Biult" was christened 75 years ago by a three run Babe homer.
After having sold the Babe to new york, the Red Sox cursed themselves forever, not having won a world series since. Babe Ruth holds or held some of the most prestigious records in baseball. He held the season home run record for 31 years, and the career homer record till Aaron broke it.
A fireballing pitcher, one of the best ever, he was a man of the moment, a stay-out-all-night man. He lived for baseball, and the yankees, although at the end of his season they kicked him out. Ruth is the subject of my two favorite baseball stories, one famous, one not.
During one of the world series that Babe was in, after a four-hit game, the oposing team took him out and got him dead drunk, knowing he wouldn't be able to hit a bowling ball in his state. The next day, the enemy was rolling over laughing as they watched the Babe shut his eyes with pain from his incredible hangover. Babe was five for five that day. Going back into the dugout after the game was over, he called out to the opposition, "where are we going tonight, boys?"
Perhaps the most famous Babe story was the story of the called home run, never proved or disproved. The story has it among the yankees, that with the Yanks down late in the game, Babe, among taunts from the opposition, pointed to the centerfield bleachers, waving his finger teasingly, seeming to say, "that's where it's going, boys, that's where it's going." Stike one was called, and Babe waved his finger again. Strike two. Babe once again smiled and pointed. Next pitch...well, it landed somewhere in the centerfield bleachers and wasn't seen again.
Called or not, Babe Ruth was unarguably the greatest player of his time. Whether or not he'll be forgotten as baseball goes on is not a quesion. Every one knows who the Babe was, and everyone always will.
Although some people picture the Babe as a showy ballplayer, which he pretty much was, few knew of his love of children. Babe would travel as far as 800,000 miles to visit a single sick boy, and visited children's wards in hospitals regularly.
Babe died in 1948, struck down by cancer.