“I wish my son was more aggressive at the plate,” a friend of mine said.
You wish your son was more aggressive? I could go through the list of pseudo-humorous things I wish I had, but you know that joke. I want things, and I need things, but I’d feel foolish suggesting that I wish something were true, because I know that that someone would turn on me and say, “Well, go get it!”
This has always been one of my least favorite responses because it’s obnoxious, tedious (because everyone says it) and true. Yet, who is more tedious and obnoxious, the person who says, “Go get it!” or the person who sits down and whines and wishes?
Wishing is for small children and people who find genies in a bottle. For the rest of us, it’s a waste of breath, unless we’re going to “Go get it!” A couple of years ago, I wished my kid wouldn’t strike out so often. I wanted him to do better, so we went out to the backyard, then we left the comfy confines of home to open baseball diamonds and batting cages to go get it. Did we get better? We did, because we did it so often that it happened.
Prior to all that, my kid was shocked and devastated by the fact that he wasn’t the athlete he thought he was, and aren’t we all? Our delusional dreams and projected images of greatness eventually, and painfully, hit a controversial wall called reality. I label the wall controversial, because soon after I told my kid he wasn’t better than he thought, I knew that would get me in trouble with positive reinforcement crowd. After I introduced him to the reality of the situation, we set about getting him better. The latter, needless to say, doesn’t happen after one, two, or three twenty-minute sessions. This is a time-consuming, frustrating, and eventually rewarding process.
I’m the type of guy who thinks, perhaps unreasonably at times, that everything is my fault. If I can’t access a website, for example, I think it’s my fault. It might have more to do with the site’s administrator, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking that I did something wrong. When my son struck out so often, I knew it was partly my fault. The kid was so young that he didn’t know how to do things himself. He had to be taught, and I wasn’t teaching him. I forced him to endure mind-numbing hours of hitting, fielding, and pitching so often that he begged for it to be over. He wanted to play Mario Odyssey, watch YouTube, and do anything and everything he could find that was less taxing. We called our workouts forty, forty forty. Forty hits, forty ground balls, or pop-ups, and forty swings. After doing this for years, when I now see a kid on a baseball field have trouble with the fundamentals of baseball, I can tell just how much time their dad has spent helping them get it.
My job, and your job, if you wish it to be true, is to source the problem and correct it. Baseball is a game, and ten and unders are going to make a ton of mistakes. If they make the same mistakes, over and over in a manner that cries out for resolution, I see it as my job to find a way to help him fix it. If you don’t have the time to personally see to it that the error is corrected, do you have the money to hire an instructor, and if neither of those avenues are available to you, what can you do to try to make it happen, other than sitting in the stands, wishing it were true.
Some of us are visual learners, some are auditory, and others are reading and writing learners. If your goal is to help your child learn how to play baseball, there’s no avenue better than just doing it so many times that he learns how to do it. It’s what psychologists call Kinesthetic Learning, or what the rest of us call doing it.
It’s possible for a kid to learn another way, I suppose, but I’ve never explored it. What’s the best way to learn Math, swimming, bowling, or baseball? They have to do it so often that they learn. Malcolm Gladwell suggest we can do anything to a decent level of prowess by investing 10,000 hours into doing it. It sounds so obnoxiously simple that it can’t be the solution, so we read books on it, watch YouTube videos, and invest in some sort of professional tutoring. All of these elements are instructive and can be used to supplement doing, but it’s so obvious that it hardly seems worthy of mentioning that nothing beats doing something so often that we do it better.
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Once our kid learns and earns a certain level of prowess, how do we take them to the next level?
“If you want your kid to advance, get him into a select league,” they say, and they’re right. But, and there’s always a but, a kid learns by doing. We can say he might get better playing a higher level competition, but what if he’s not having fun at the next level? My son is currently on a team composed almost entirely of his friends from school. On this team, my son plays, and he strengthens his relationships with his friends while playing. He looks forward to games, and he has a lot of fun playing in them. That’s far more important to me than advancing him to the next level with the hope that it will strengthen his abilities in such a way that he might continue to play baseball in high school, college, and the Majors. This is the dream, but is it their dream or ours? When we take a look at the numbers, we know that the chances of him playing beyond high school are minimal, and while looking at those numbers we need to ask ourselves who are we really aiming to please? Are we seeking a way for him to be the exception to these ratios for his eventual happiness, or are we looking to satisfy our dream of one day being one of those parents who have front row tickets to our kid’s first major league start? If we follow the plan of making sure he’s having fun, we’ll turn down that invitation for a select league to keep him in a league where he’s having the most fun. We also do this to prepare for the day when he meets the extent of his talent and ability, and our dreams come to a crashing halt. When this happens, we want to look at our son and say, “Well, we had a lot of fun along the way.”
Last season, a kid named Jimmy received an invitation to advance to a select team over my son. My vicarious impulse was jealousy. I thought my son was better, but I’m biased. Jimmy was, at least, comparable to my son in talent. Flash forward a couple games into this season and Jimmy is not playing on that select team. He’s sitting on the bench. I have no idea if this is a commentary on Jimmy’s ability, compared to the rest of the team, but bottom line, he’s sitting on the bench, and if he’s not playing, he’s not learning, and he’s not advancing. But playing at a higher level lifts all boats. The classic example, in another sport, is Sidney Crosby. Crosby was the youngest brother always playing with his older brothers and their friends. Crosby needed to be better just to compete with them. Crosby became better, and he became so good that he was a first pick in the NHL Draft, and he became one of the best players in the NHL. Crosby, however, was playing against them, as opposed to riding the bench. My guess is this kid named Jimmy is experiencing some next-level play in practice, but nothing beats doing it in a game.
The select teams also requires a greater commitment to baseball, and I don’t think this commitment will be advantageous. Right now, my son plays a number of sports and he is learning the art of taekwondo. If he commits more of his time to baseball, he will have to sacrifice those other sports. Why would we do this? He has a lot of fun doing all that other stuff too. I think playing those sports, and learning the art of taekwondo, provides him a well-rounded learning experience, and if he chooses a sport to focus on at some point, that will be a decision for him to make. Right now, he’s just having fun, and I see no reason to advance the needle.
As with everything else in life, there are no easy answers, but there is one easy question. What are we doing with our free-time? Instead of watching the latest docu-drama on Netflix, or flipping through our phone for the next twenty minutes, why don’t we take a trip into the backyard and flip the ball around with our kid for twenty minutes a day, three-to-four times a week for a couple years.
Baseball is baseball. It’s a sport, and some observe that the obsessive devotion to sports and games is trivial compared to all of the other, more important activities in life. If you think that, you’re right in general terms, but what are you currently doing with them that is so much more vital and crucial to their life? And what were your plans when you held them in your arms that day in the delivery room? Did you plan on letting them watch YouTube for another hour, so you could have a little more “me” time? What we’re talking about when we talk about baseball, soccer, flag football, or whatever ten and unders can do for a couple hours when they’ve not gaming, is committing to something so thoroughly that they develop a discipline, and a character-defining devotion. We’re talking about developing a discipline and a devotion to something they might remember, and they won’t remember conquering Mario Odyssey or flipping through various YouTube influencers. They will remember the days they spent playing sports with others, and the countless hours they spent playing in the backyard with you. It takes a level of commitment, a discipline, and devotion from both of you if you wish want him to get better, or more confident, the next time he steps on a baseball diamond, and that may prove trivial in the grand scheme of life to everyone in the world except for the two of you.
“Your guy’s records shouldn’t count, because of this! My guy’s should, because of that.” The this and thats are asterisks, we’re talking about asterisks. Historians love them, and sports historians love them a little more when arguing the this and thats, but nobody loves the asterisk more than the baseball historian. It’s their favorite punctuation mark. Rather than write about an athlete’s athletic prowess with exclamation marks, as he chases down a record, they asterisk them or the previous record holder. The thing about asterisks is that they’re typically general and broad and opinions based on facts, but most people don’t bother sifting through those facts to find the truth.
“But Babe Ruth had a .342 career batting average.” Pfft. (Pfft is the sound of an asterisk punctuating a point.) *He got most of his hits against starting pitchers who were tired by his third or fourth at-bat. “As a pitcher, Ruth went 65-33.” *Yeah, but (the yeahbut is another unofficial, verbal asterisk) between 1915-1917, he played for the Boston Red Sox. The Red Sox won the World Series three out of four of those years, so of course he won a lot of games on those teams. “He pitched 29.2 scoreless innings in those World Series games.” *It was the dead ball era. It was easier to pitch scoreless innings back then. “He pitched a 2.06 ERA during those years.” *Again, it was the dead ball era, and he wasn’t even in the top ten ERA leaders most of those years. “He hit a number of his 714 during those dead ball years.” *He didn’t have to face African American pitchers back then, he didn’t have to play night games, and he didn’t have to face the rigors of extensive travel back then. “He ended up with 714 after only hitting 20 the first five years of his career. Are you saying that’s not an accomplishment?” *He didn’t have to face as many teams, as many different starting pitchers, and there was only one prominent reliever back then. How many of those home runs did he hit in his third and fourth at-bats when the starters were fatigued? “Baseball was the premier sport during Ruth’s playing days, and it attracted the best athletes in the country.” *In the country are the key words here. Modern baseball now invites the best athletes from around the world to compete.
The Babe Ruth defender cannot win, as baseball historians have an asterisk ready for every single one of Babe Ruth’s accomplishments, but for every argument for an asterisk there is a counterargument, and every counterargument has its own counterargument, until we arrive at the idea if we’re going to asterisk everything from everyone then we should probably not asterisk anyone (*except for PED players), because it’s almost impossible to compare eras.
The primary asterisk we hear against calling Babe Ruth the unquestioned “Sultan of Swat” is that he didn’t have to face African-American, Hispanic, or any other minority pitchers. Between the years 1846 and 1947, professional baseball was not integrated. Was that immoral? Of course it was. The idea that an individual wasn’t allowed to compete for a job in a sport was a stain on baseball, its history and tradition, and its records. Baseball could’ve led by example, in this regard, and there are no asterisks, excuses, no ifs, ands, or yeahbuts to support why this wasn’t done from the very beginning. Full stop.
Due to the fact that Major League Baseball (MLB) participated in the stain of segregation, Babe Ruth did not have the chance to face a wide swath of the national, and international, populations. Since integration, some of the greatest pitchers of all time have been either African American, Hispanic, and Asian. Yet, if integration were introduced when it should’ve been, in the very beginning, how many of the members of other races would’ve replaced the starting pitchers Babe Ruth faced? The fact is that it was unfair that pitchers were not given the chance to compete for the jobs, but the inference that Babe Ruth’s career total of 714 home runs would be significantly lower if he faced black pitchers is just as unfair. Buck O’Neill basically reinforces the unfairness of baseball historians attaching this unofficial, verbal asterisk to Ruth’s career numbers.
Buck on Babe
Buck O’Neill, who played in the [African-American] Leagues, then scouted and managed in Major League baseball for 50+ years, said, “[African-American] League pitching lacked the depth [of pitching in] Major League Baseball [at the time].” Before we go any further, we should note that that had to be a difficult thing to say for a man who successfully foughtto keep the tradition and history of [African-American] League Baseball alive. O’Neill could’ve viewed the comparisons from a subjective perspective, or even a competitive point of view, that stated how all of his [African-American] League peers were just as good as anyone in Major League Baseball. He didn’t. O’Neill could’ve also said nothing on this matter. He could’ve left the matter to historians to sort out. To his credit, O’Neill examined the two leagues objectively and said the depth of [African-American] League pitching was comparatively lacking by comparison.
Mr. O’Neill did not say that the top hitters of his league weren’t comparable however. He later said that when he heard Josh Gibson hit the ball it “created a particular sound like dynamite.” He said he only heard that crack two other times, “Babe Ruth was the first, and 50 years later, Bo Jackson was the third.” Some suggest that Josh Gibson hit 800 home runs though this cannot be substantiated for the official record. Mr. O’Neill also did not say that the best pitchers in the [African-American] Leagues would not have made the Majors. He just said that the [African-American] League rotations weren’t as deep as those in the Major League, top to bottom.
Based on what Mr. O’Neill saw in his playing days, scouting, managing, and just appreciating the game as an insider/outsider for 50+ years, we can infer him saying that if integration was never an issue, and black pitchers were allowed to play in the Major League from the beginning, the quality of pitching, across the league, probably wouldn’t have been significantly different top to bottom. Further research from The Society of American Baseball Research also notes that becoming a Major League pitcher has never been particularly attractive to the African-American athlete. After 1947, the percentage of African American pitchers peaked at around 6% in the 1970’s. A USA Today article interviewed various commentators on this subject, and they offered speculative reasons for this, but regardless what those reasons are, the fact remains that the demographic has never been particularly attracted to the position. The inference baseball historians make is that Ruth’s home run totals pale in comparison to the other more modern, hitters, because the more modern hitters faced African-American pitchers, but most of them have faced pitching staffs that are, historically, between 1% and 2% African-American on average. So, if Babe Ruth played in the 1970’s, and faced a peak of 6% African American pitchers, and he didn’t hit a single home run off of any of them, his home run total would probably be around 671.
To asterisk this asterisk, we do have one small sample of how Babe Ruth might have fared against the African-American pitchers of his era. Some might further asterisk that asterisk by stating that the sample we have for this involved a mere sixteen contests that happened to be exhibition games. It is true, but we can guess that the [African-American] League pitchers did not pitch as if they were exhibition games when they faced Major League ballplayers. We can guess that even though they were only exhibition games, the pitchers put forth their best effort to show that they were just as good if not better than the pitchers in the Major League. When they faced The Babe, especially, we can be sure that they did everything they could to get the big man out. He ended up hitting 12 home runs against them in 55 at-bats, for a 22% rate. Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs in 8,399 at bats against Major League Pitching, at a 9% clip. This isn’t to suggest if Ruth hit against African American pitchers, in the Majors, throughout his career, he would have hit home runs in 22% of his at-bats against them, but that the “lack of depth” O’Neill described would’ve become clear to baseball historians and Babe Ruth’s numbers wouldn’t have been as significantly different as they imply.
Babe Ruth in the Modern Game
Baseball historian, Bob Klapisch writes that, “Ruth was found to have had substantially above-average hand-eye coordination, intelligence and steadier nerves.”
I find this addition worthy, because Klapisch’s repeat of Ruth’s scouting report, combined with O’Neill’s description of the rare sound the ball made coming off his bat, describe intangibles that cannot be taught or coached. The jokes coaches of various sports repeat is, “You can’t coach someone to be taller, and you can’t coach someone to be faster.” You also can’t coach someone to have above-average hand-eye coordination. It’s an intangible that an athlete either has or doesn’t, and that’s one of the many reasons why I think Babe Ruth would be a top-tier baseball player in any era.
Kevin Long, the Yankees’ hitting instructor, counters, “I see too much movement in [Babe Ruth’s] stride, he’s hitting off his front foot. That’s OK only if you’re sitting on an 80-mph fastball or waiting on a curveball that only breaks on two [up and down] planes.”
Hitting instructor, Kevin Long, makes the ‘we live in the best of times’ argument many indulge in that suggests the modern athlete is so superior to the athletes of yesteryear that the latter couldn’t compete in today’s game. He states that if Ruth were playing in the modern game, he’d have tendencies that would inhibit his success, yet a hitting instructor knows that tendencies can be corrected. He then suggests Babe Ruth would have a tough time adjusting to the faster fastball of modernity, or a better curveball, as if it were a feat to which a modern Babe Ruth couldn’t adjust. It’s ridiculous on the face of it to suggest that an athlete, as superior as many describe Ruth, of “above average intelligence with steadier nerves” couldn’t adjust. Athletic ability aside for just a moment, if we could transport Babe Ruth, from birth on, to the modern era, and we could transport the conditions in which he was raised with him, Ruth would have the same driving force to learn, adjust, and succeed, because he would be as desperate to succeed now as he was then.
Those who train fighters in boxing often tell us that what separates equally talented boxers is the desperation one of the boxers has to succeed. They say that a fighter desperate to escape his current conditions, is more coachable and trainable, because they just want it more. As anyone who has played any sport knows, defeat, personal failure, and the resulting embarrassment from that are all part of becoming a better athlete. Baseball, perhaps more than any other sport, is a game in which its top stars endure more failure than success. The top hitters, for example, do not reach base 70% of the time. If Babe Ruth was the superior athlete that Klapisch and numerous others describe, he would fail to hit the modern 100mph fastball, and the modern curveball, as Long describes, but how many modern athletes fail to hit those same pitches? I believe that Babe Ruth would learn from his failures, adjust, and eventually succeed on the level he did in the 1920’s and 1930’s, because of the sense of desperation that would surely supersede his more priviledged peers.
Major League players, coaches, and managers on the Red Sox, Yankees and the other teams he played throughout the American League, in his era, considered Babe Ruth the asterisk of his era. They considered him a freak of nature athletically. *If African-Americans were allowed to play baseball in the Major League, they argue, Babe Ruth wouldn’t have appeared so freakishly talented. It’s a theoretical argument that has merit, especially if the unsubstantiated rumors about Josh Gibson are anywhere close to true, except when it comes to pitching. The principles of pitching aren’t solely based on athletic talent. If this argument focused on the NBA or the NFL, the athletic argument might take center stage. Integration of African-Americans transformed those leagues, but the eventual integration of baseball in 1947 showed very few pitchers make the jump to the Major Leagues. Did the Major League teams make these decisions as a result of racism? There were a number of hitters who made the jump, but very few pitchers did.
Buck O’Neill never explored why he thought the [African-American] League pitching staffs weren’t as deep as the Major League Baseball ones, but the inference baseball historians make that Babe Ruth didn’t face the superior athletes of his era deserves its own asterisk because superior athleticism doesn’t significantly enhance one’s ability to pitch. The difference between a dominant pitcher and an average one is not necessarily athletic, but it’s not necessarily based on intelligence either. Star-quality pitching at the Major League level is one of those things that I’m sure if we asked Major League scouts, how do we make a dominant Major League pitcher, they would probably say, “If we knew, we’d probably make a lot more of them.” A dominant Major League pitcher is as much about tangibles as it is intangibles, like perseverance through perpetual failure, that are not based on race, economic conditions, or any other indicators that we can point to in a substantial manner.
The problem with the integration argument is that we can’t argue what if’s, what abouts, and all that, so Ruth’s legacy suffers from the institutional wrongdoings of his era that now lead us to either accept his 714 home runs with asterisks, or dismiss them entirely.
Asterisk Them All
UNITED STATES – CIRCA 1926: Babe Ruth batting during an exhibition game.
Baseball historians also list ‘Babe Ruth didn’t have to play night games’ as one of the unofficial, verbal asterisks we should all place an asterisk on his .342, 714 numbers, and they usually throw it on the list of generally accepted asterisks against Ruth. I don’t understand this asterisk. I think baseball historians add this asterisk to a list of them, as opposed to saying it as a standalone, because no one parses this asterisk out to ask what difference it makes. I understand the ‘Babe Ruth didn’t have to travel extensively’ asterisk to some degree, because we all know how long flights can lead to some fatigue. If we combine the two and say Ruth never had to travel to the west coast to play a 10:00 PM game, that might have some merit, but from what we know of Babe Ruth, it appears he had no trouble playing at night.
Unless you consider a diet of hot dogs and beer performance enhancing, we might asterisk in Babe Ruth’s favor by saying he played baseball without any enhancements or supplements of any kind. Babe Ruth certainly never heard of steroids, creatine, and he likely never heard of amphetamines, as they didn’t make their way into baseball until somewhere in the World War II era of the 1940’s or 1950’s.
Though there is some evidence that The Babe lifted a barbell, but his era knew little-to-nothing about the maximized benefits of weightlifting, or the advanced training methods of the modern era. Even some relatively modern athletes, as far back as the 1970’s, report that they (team doctors and trainers included) actually considered weight training counterproductive to baseball. So, we could argue that if Ruth matured athletically in the climate of modern, advanced training methods, weightlifting, and the science behind strength and conditioning, his numbers could be significantly higher. If Ruth had the video resources, modern hitting instruction, or any of the advanced scouting hitters have today, his numbers could even be higher. As Buck O’Neill, and others allude, Babe Ruth might have been one of the most naturally gifted athletes of his century, especially when considering the stories of how much damage he did to his body with his nightlife, alcohol consumption, and his general diet.
Babe Ruth Basically Invented the Home Run
This part might be hard for modern baseball fans to understand, but before Babe Ruth, the home run wasn’t the prized athletic event it is today. Up until Babe Ruth, baseball teams didn’t sign pure home run hitters, and they didn’t strategize for the home run. Even when Ruth hit 148 home runs for the Yankees, between 1920 and 1922, the Yankees still didn’t win their first World Series title. So, while the rest of baseball saw the popularity of home runs for what it was among the fans, their version of statistical analysis led them to believe that home runs didn’t equate to wins. The myth that most of us believed that no one hit home runs before Babe Ruth is not true. Various players hit them, but the rationale back then was when you swung for the fences, it messed up the mechanics of your swing. As Ty Cobb once observed, it was Ruth’s first career as a pitcher that allowed him to perfect his reckless, from-the-heels, all-or-nothing cut, since nothing much was expected of pitchers at the plate. One of the greatest home run hitters of all time, Babe Ruth wasn’t even signed as a home run hitter, and he wasn’t utilized by the team (Boston Red Sox) that signed him, until his final, fifth year with them. His first year, he only hit four home runs, but he was a primarily a pitcher when he did that. The Red Sox viewed Babe Ruth as a pitcher who could hit, and they eventually used him in that manner.
How many years did the Red Sox cost Babe Ruth in terms of home run production? First, we’ll dismiss Ruth’s 1914 season from the record, because Ruth was a rookie, and no one knew much about him. He went 22-9 as a pitcher in the minors, but as a hitter he had 28 hits in 131 plate appearances for a .231 batting average and one home run. So, at this point even the eventual Hall of Fame home run hitter had no reason to believe he would be anything more or less than a dominant pitcher, on a Major League Level. In his next three years (1915-1917), in the majors, Ruth went 65-33 with the Red Sox and an 2.06 ERA. While that number looks great by today’s standards, some argue that these numbers occurred during the dead ball era, and that Ruth was not as dominant a pitcher as some baseball historians suggest. These naysayers also say that his win rate was influenced by the fact that he was on a Red Sox team that perennially competed for the World Series. As a counterpoint, Red Sox outfielder Harry Hooper approached the team’s manager Ed Barrow and told him the team needed to get Ruth’s bat into the lineup. Barrow said no. “I’d be the laughingstock of baseball if I took the best left hander in the league and put him in the outfield.” So, why would any manager who fears getting fired every year, allow such a successful pitcher in the batting order for more opportunity to injury, possible fatigue, and embarrassment for trying to make such a good pitcher a hitter? World War I.
There are disputes about how Ed Barrow eventually decided to put Ruth in the batting order*, but some suggest that Barrow put Ruth in the batting order out of desperation because World War I depleted the Red Sox roster to the point that Ruth was one of the few options available to him at the time. Babe Ruth didn’t go to World War I, because his number was never called, so those of us who don’t follow the rich tradition of baseball intensely, probably wouldn’t know the name Babe Ruth, if it weren’t for World War I.
Not only did Ruth hit .300 and tie for the home run title, in 1919, but the Red Sox won the World Series. When the World Series arrived, Barrow limited Ruth’s at bats, but that was probably because Ruth shut out the Cubs in the first game, to stretch Ruth’s record of shutout innings to 22.1 innings. Ruth would stretch that record to a then record 29.2 innings of consecutive shutout innings, and Ruth won his next start to help the Red Sox win the series four games to two.
The first five seasons of his career, spent with the Boston Red Sox, Ruth only hit 49 home runs. Hank Aaron already hit 140 at the same age and in the fifth years in their respective careers. We could argue that the Red Sox accidentally cost Ruth about four and a half years of potentially productive years as a home run hitter, by mostly keeping him out of the batting lineup until his fifth year.
When the Yankees traded for Ruth, they viewed Ruth as a hitter, and they switched him to the outfield. (Stats show he only pitched 20 innings in 15 years with the Yankees.) He hit 54 home runs in his first year, 1920, with the Yankees, and a star was born, and the glory of the home run was born with it. The second most home runs hit that year were by George Sisler 19, and in ’21 Ruth hit 59, and 2nd place was Bob Meusel at 24. Ruth’s success helped bring about the end of dead ball era.
Another unofficial, verbal asterisk that we could use in Ruth’s favor is the ball. How many fresh, clean balls does the modern hitter have? How many times, in one at-bat, does an umpire, pitcher, catcher, or batter ask for a new ball? If a foul ball is hit, the umpire reaches into his bag and hands the catcher a new ball. In Ruth’s day, reports suggest “the ball was sacred”. Fielders and fans were instructed to return the game ball to the pitcher after a foul ball, and Major League Teams hired security personnel and ushers to retrieve foul balls from the stands. In this era, teams played with one ball until “it was literally falling to pieces, and you couldn’t use it anymore”. John Rossi’s piece states that the ball “would be covered with grass and mud stains, along with goodly amount of tobacco juice from being spit on by the fielders. They would also lose their resiliency. Thus, the name the dead-ball era.” Some suggest that Ruth may have been partially responsible for Major League Baseball creating rules for a cleaner ball. As a result of the popularity of his home runs, the owners of Major League Baseball teams decided to feed into the massive attendance jump for just about every team in 1920. The owners made various “trick” pitches illegal, including the spitball, and they instituted a better ball, though this term would be refuted by laboratory tests. The owners wanted to keep the ball white, so hitters could see it. The spitball was banned in 1920, but numerous pitchers, who used it as their primary pitch throughout their career, were grandfathered in.
If Babe Ruth didn’t invent the home run, he single-handedly revolutionized the game from the John McGraw “inside” baseball tactics of bunt, steal, sacrifice to move over, and score on sacrifice fly to win 1-0, to a hitter’s game. Ruth’s home runs were not the sole reason for the explosion of baseball’s popularity. The end of the war, the money involved, and the more lively ball, as opposed to the 1-0 contests that tends to only please baseball purists. He wasn’t the sole reason, but he was the primary reason there was more money in the game, as attendance exploded after his home run explosions, and for the more lively ball. As Robert W. Creamer concludes in Babe: The Legend Comes to Life, “Ruth’s 1919 breakthrough did not provide a gradual evolution. It was sudden and cataclysmic.”
The First Sports Celebrity
The one other element that most baseball historians don’t mention when they discuss how Babe Ruth changed the game was that Babe Ruth became this nation’s first sports celebrity. He was America’s first athletic superstar at a time when baseball sorely needed it after the Black Sox scandal. Baseball had famous hitters before Ruth, from Ty Cobb to Tris Speaker to Honus Wagner who were just as good, and some might argue better than Ruth, but Babe Ruth’s hitting style, his personality, and his off-the-field antics made him larger than life. Those other hitters were huge in their hometown, state, and region, and every baseball fan of the era knew their name, but by the time Ruth joined the Yankees, everyone had a love/hate relationship with him. I haven’t done extensive research on this, but my guess is Ruth was baseball’s first constant headline maker. This media attention brought fans to the stands, and since the first transmission of television broadcasts didn’t occur until 1925, the primary source of revenue for owners was fan attendance. There are many bullet points to add to Babe Ruth’s claim to fame, but the idea that he almost single-handedly changed one of the three major sports and defined the idea of sports celebrity might shine the brightest, and no baseball historian can asterisk their way out of that argument.
In all of the research I did for this piece, I found authoritative asterisks that suggest while Babe Ruth might have been one of the best athletes of his generation, he couldn’t compete against the modern athlete. I found a counterargument to that asterisk that suggest most modern star athletes entering high school dream of playing in either the NFL, the NBA, and the MLB, in that order. In Babe Ruth’s era, the MLB was the premier sports organization that attracted the best, caucasian athletes in the country. Professional football and professional basketball existed, but they were nowhere near as popular as Major League Baseball. The premier athletes in the United States wanted to play baseball, and Babe Ruth faced off against the best athletes of his era. I’m sure you just thought of a counterargument to that argument, and that’s the point I made earlier. For every argument, there is a counterargument, and a counter to that counterargument, as evidenced by all the articles, opinion articles, and replies to those articles. The one definitive, authoritative, and irrefutable conclusion on whether or not Babe Ruth was a superior athlete who could compete in any era is that there is no definitive, authoritative, and irrefutable conclusion.
“Why do you care?” might be the question Babe Ruth defenders hear most often. “What difference does it make now?” might be the second most, “Babe Ruth’s (1914-1935) career now is almost 100 years old now.” My drive might have something to do with the fact that I cannot stand it when people say, “It is the best of times, right now, as far as athletics are concerned.” This argument of the tangibles suggest that athletes who dominated during “the worst of times” could not compete in today’s game. I’m not going to say there is no merit to this argument as I believe the middle of the pack and lower level athletes of today are far better than the athlete of yesteryear, but the elite athletes of yesteryear could’ve competed in any era. Having said that, we do concede that if the average to poor athletes of yesteryear pale in comparison to today’s, Babe Ruth competed against those average to poor athletes, and his career totals would probably not be as high in the modern game. It pains us to make that concession, but we still think The Babe would still be one of the elite athletes in any era.
The “the best of times/worst of times” argument also stubbornly insists that any argument that includes a Babe Ruth must be an as-is model. We cannot transport him to today’s era of training and diet science, so why debate it? We debate it, because athletic prowess is the most important characteristic, but it’s not the only trait that defines that superior, elite athlete. When we start throwing out asterisks on Ruth, Walter Payton, Wilt Chamberlain, and other elite athletes who dominated the game during their era, we often leave off the intangibles that defined them beyond their athletic prowess. Ruth, like Payton and Bill Russell, were born and raised in situations they desperately sought to escape, and they believed sports were their ticket out. The desperation to succeed can also be combined and furthered by their will to win. The will to win can be broadly defined by an athlete doing the best they can to help their team defeat the opponent, but in just about every sport there is a one-on-one, mano y mano confrontation between two equally skilled athletes. The will to win in those showdowns defines an athlete as much as stats, wins and losses, and legacy, and I believe that these athletes would’ve used their elite talent, their desperation to succeed, and the will to win to use the advantages the modern athlete has, adapt to the current game, and succeed. As stated earlier, he who wins athletic contests are often the most athletic, but some of the times, the desperation to win and eventually succeed defines the difference in a manner that transcends the best of times and the worst of times.
I provide the numbers below, because someone once said that numbers speak for themselves, but I think we all know that they don’t, because they invite asterisks, counterpoints to those asterisks, and counterarguments to the counterargument.
Total Home Runs: Ruth 714 vs. Aaron 755 vs. Pujols 703
Total Games — Ruth 2,503 vs. Aaron 3,298 vs. Pujols 3,080
At Bats — Ruth 8,399 vs. Aaron 12,365 vs. Pujols 11,421
Plate Appearances — Ruth 10,623 vs. Aaron 13,941 vs. Pujols 13,041
Batting Average — Ruth .342 vs. Aaron .305 vs. Pujols .296
Runs — Ruth and Aaron tied at 2,174 vs. Pujols 1,914
Runs Batted In — Ruth 2,214 vs. Aaron 2,297 vs. Pujols 2,218
Walks — Ruth 2,062 vs. Aaron 1,402 vs. Pujols 1,373
Strike Outs — Ruth 1,330 vs. Aaron 1,383 vs. Pujols 1,404
Slugging Percentage — Ruth .690 vs. Aaron .555 vs. Pujols .544
Number of Unique Pitchers Hitter Hit Home Runs On — Ruth 342*(as a Yankee) vs. Aaron 310 vs. Pujols 458
Seasons — Ruth 22 vs. Aaron 23 vs. Pujols 22
World Series Rings — Ruth 7 vs. Aaron 1 vs. Pujols 2
*In Babe: The Legend Comes to Life, the author Robert W. Creamer states that Ruth’s transition was not a managerial decision, or one based on WWI depletion, but Babe Ruth’s decision. After experiencing some success as a hitter, Ruth decided he no longer wanted to pitch. Ruth’s and manager Ed Barrow argued about this, but Ruth eventually won the argument. The book also states that Ruth’s ability to avoid the draft involved him being married at the time and some squabbles between Major League Baseball and government agencies.
**Other sites say that on May 6, Barrow changed his mind and started Ruth at first base. After that, Ruth played in the field when he wasn’t pitching and the Red Sox were facing a right-hander. Ruth responded by hitting 11 home runs to lead the American League and pitching to a 13-7 record.
Baseball is an embarrassingly simple game … on paper. Pitcher throws ball, hitter tries to hit it where they ain’t, and fielders try to catch it. If we introduced the concept of the game to aliens from another planet, they wouldn’t understand how such a simple game found its way into the fabric of our world. “You mean to tell me that your national past time, and the game that is one of the most popular games in your world, involves one human being throwing a ball and another hitting it?” this alien might ask. “And humans find it so entertaining that you not only watch it, play it, and read about it, but some of you devote your lives to it? That’s pretty much all we need to know to go ahead with our plans to take over this planet.”
Anyone who has played the game of baseball, or tried to coach it, knows it’s anything but simple. A player doesn’t have to be 6’6” 250 lbs. to play it. Hall of Fame inductee Wee Willie Keeler was 5’4”. He proved that anyone and everyone can do it, but most can’t with regular success. As hard as it is to consistently throw a ball accurately, it’s harder to hit it where they ain’t. Even relatively young hitters learn that they can be heroes one day and zeroes the next. The simple complexity of hitting a ball consistently can prove maddening, demoralizing, and even a little humiliating to a young kid, because it seems so simple. They cannot figure it out for themselves, however, they need coaching, guidance, and as much support as we can offer.
These three ingredients to improved play, and the resultant character development that follows, are essential, but the three most mandatory ingredients to accomplishing anything in life, are time, patience, and repetition. The latter might be the hardest for a child to grasp, as the typical nine-year-old complaint to mind-numbing repetition centers around, “I can hit, catch, and pitch now. Why do we have to keep practicing them so often?” As I’ve written elsewhere, there is little-to-no room for creativity in sports. There are quick-fixes, they’re out there, but my guess is their efficiency numbers pale in comparison to kinesthetic learning, or the knowledge gain by doing it so often that we know what to do when there is no time to think.
Time, patience, and mind-numbing repetition turned an eight-year-old named Isaac into a decent fielder, so the coach put him at shortstop in year one, but he struggled with hitting so much that the coach put him at the bottom of the batting order. He had the typical problems an eight-year-old experiences of looping under the ball. He had so many strikeouts in year one, and he reacted so emotionally to each one, we began to think that baseball probably wasn’t for him.
“Why does he get so upset?” one of his teammates asked. “He shouldn’t get that upset. It’s just baseball. It’s supposed to be fun. No one else gets as upset as he does.”
We wanted Isaac to lighten up and enjoy himself. Baseball is a game, and when we play a game, we’re supposed to have fun. We’re out there with our friends, and we’re supposed to enjoy playing with them. “Don’t get mad, learn,” was a line repeated so often in our backyard that we both got sick of hearing it.
The answer I would now give Isaac’s teammate is that Isaac wanted it more than his teammates. Some might find this a character flaw in need of correction, but in order for Isaac to have fun doing something, he has to be good at it, and he thought he would be good at baseball before he stepped on the field. His first year was supposed to be nothing more than a display of his athletic talent. When that didn’t happen Isaac did not want to do the elementary things he needed to accomplish his goals. What eight-year-old does?
Why can’t I hit the ball?
Nothing came easy for an eight-year-old Isaac. The core problem for Isaac was that he had a counterproductive image of himself as a good hitter. He thought he should be there before he even picked up a bat, and the evidence he saw to the contrary (in his first full year playing baseball) was demoralizing. Every failure, to him, was an epic denunciation of his ability and his character. The eight-year-old world is dramatic, traumatic, and fatalistic.
Our motto entering year two was keep it simple and overcome adversity. Things happen in baseball. A batter can hit a ball square and a fielder can catch it. A hitter can strike out three times in a game. What happens next defines that batter. How does the batter respond in their next at-bat? “The best batters in the world go 1-3,” I told Isaac, and “baseball is the second hardest game in the world behind golf. What happens after we commit an error in the field?” I asked him, adding, “I’ve committed every error in the field that you have, and I’ve done some that were far worse. I’ve committed errors in front of other people that still keeps me up at night, twenty years later.”
Most of the coaching, consolation, and support I offered Isaac went in one ear and out the other, so I’m not sure if anything I said worked. I think time and repetition had more to do with it. Isaac and I spent time doing an exercise I called 40-40-40. Forty ground balls, forty flyballs, and forty reps doing whatever he wanted, usually forty at bats or forty pitches. We also went to batting cages.
Whatever it was we did clicked. His turnaround, from year one to year two was so 180 that the coach eventually put Isaac in the coveted three hole in his batting lineup. Isaac started the second season in his customary position at the bottom of the order, and he gradually worked his way up to the two hole. This is a summation, as the progression proved painfully gradual, but he was in the two hole by game eight. Before the start of game eleven, Isaac believed he was the best hitter on the team, but instead of putting Isaac in the leadoff spot, the coach put him in the three hole.
“I’m getting on base coach,” Isaac said. “Why are you putting me in the three hole? Why am I not in the leadoff spot?”
“We need your power in the three hole,” the coach said.
I’m going to try to be objective here and say that in year two, the nine-year-old Isaac was one of the three best players on his team throughout the 15-game regular season. He might have had one bad game all year.
Isaac was one of the primary reasons that his team won their divisional playoff game. He went two for two, drove in two runs and scored two, in a 5-2 victory. He also, and more importantly, pitched the final two innings, and he only gave up one run.
He didn’t do too well in the final playoffs, but the rest of the team carried them to victory.
In the championship game, however, Isaac went absolutely nuts. He went 3-3, with 5 RBIs, and one run scored, in a 9-8 game. Isaac accounted for six of his team’s nine runs. He was cracking these hits into the outfield, whereas most of his hits, and his teammates hits, barely clear the infield.
Isaac’s best at bat occurred in what could’ve been his final at bat, and possibly the team’s final at-bat of the season. Before the inning even started, I began counting the batters before him, worrying that Isaac might be the final at-bat. My worst fears came to light as two batters walked and two batters struck out. Isaac stepped up to the plate, down two runs, with two runners on base, and two outs. The score at the time was 6-8, and the opposing pitcher was throwing a surprisingly lively fastball for a nine-year-old.
For two innings, Isaac’s teammates couldn’t come anywhere close to hitting this pitcher. The pitcher was the other team’s ace, brought in to close the game out and secure their championship. Isaac and the pitcher battled to a 3 balls 2 strike full count. Isaac fouled a couple of hits off that told me he might be overmatched. Then, he uncorked at unbelievable hit that ended up tying the game and forcing the opposition to bat in the bottom of the inning.
Isaac pitched the final inning and gave up one unearned run to lose the game.
Earlier in the season, Isaac pitched an almost perfect two innings, striking out 5 of 6. I told him that he would probably never come that close to perfection again. I said that to try to take the pressure off him in his attempts to duplicate that performance. Guess what, he topped it. That final at-bat was so clutch.
We all went nuts on a catch Isaac made in the outfield, earlier in the game, but I told the other parents that that catch was nothing compared to delivering a tying hit in the bottom of the last inning. Isaac’s nickname around the household is either three for three, or Mr. Clutch.
As Isaac walked out of the dugout, his coach stopped him: “I just want to say how enjoyable it’s been watching your development these last two years.”
How does a nine-year-old develop the skills necessary for some sort of progression in athletics? They have to want it, first and foremost. No matter how much comfort, coaching, and support we offer, if they don’t want it, they’re not going to get it. The next ingredient, as I spelled out earlier, is time and repetition, or as one famous basketball player once said, “Practice!” The more time we spend doing anything, the better we will be at doing it. As Malcolm Gladwell suggests, we can master just about anything with 10,000 hours of concentrated practice.
Keep it simple. No tricks. Don’t worry about velocity or location, and don’t think about the future. Someone suggested that Isaac might, one day, play in the majors, and others whispered other, sweet nothings in our ear. If a three-year-old plays with a rocket, we’ll probably hear someone in the room say he might become a rocket scientist. People do this to be nice, and because they probably can’t think of anything else to say. Smile, say that’s nice of you to say, and walk away, then return to the mind-numbing repetition of playing catch, fielding ground balls, and throwing the ball around. They’ll be proud of their progress, and they’ll want to quit when they regress. They’ll learn, and they’ll make tiny adjustments, until some sort of muscle memory develops over time. That might sound simple, but think about all of the mechanics involved in muscle memory. A young baseball player can be coached, taught, advised, and tweaked, but until a kid does it so often that they know it, they’ll never learn it. These principles, and this whole article, are devoted to baseball, but we can just as easily apply the principles discussed here to just about anything in life.