Boston's Fenway Park. 1915.
93rd Game of a 154 game season.
Ninth inning.
Rookie left-hander George Ruth casually slings his warm-up tosses plateward. Behind him his infielders toss a ball around. And in the on-deck area, Yankees third baseman Red Rolfe limbers up with two bats as he prepares to lead off the top of the ninth. And in the stands, 23,556 Fenway faithful stand and cheer. Boston has a comfortable 6-0. Wins have been hard to come by for the Red Sox lately. The 1915 World Champs had gone toe-to toe with their 1936 New York counterparts for the first half of the season. The two teams split the first 68 contests. New York's powerful line-up seemed unable to overpower the superb pitching staff. Boston seemed to be able to come up with timely hits over and over, play great defense, and of course, send a strong hurler to the mound day in and day out. Five men with at least 15 wins in the actual 1915 campaign, with lefty Dutch Leonard, 15-7, sporting the lowest winning percentage.
But suddenly, as the second half of this mythical season arrives, the 1936 Yankees seem to find an extra gear. They win an astounding 17 out of 22. Gehrig, Dickey and rookie Joe DiMaggio are not knocking out home runs left-and-right (Gehrig leads with seven after 90 games). But New York seems to adapt to the 'small ball' or 'dead ball' game very well. Their pitching solidifies. And the Red Sox find themselves fighting to get back in contention.
Which brings the two teams, and us, to game 93. New York has extended their hot streak to 19 of 24. Boston has sent rookie Ruth to the mound to try and halt the Yankee train. And here, now, for eight terrific innings, the Babe from Baltimore has done it. He has completely shut down the line-up that terrorized the American League to the tune of 1000-plus runs. And Ruth had even helped out at the plate, lining a Lefty Gomez fastball 444 feet to right center for a solo homer in the fifth. Now, three outs are all that separates he and his mates from cheer and beer for a well earned victory.
Ruth finishes his warmup tosses. Forrest Cady fires the ball down to second. Red Rolfe settles into the left-hand batters box. Ruth snags the ball from third baseman Larry Gardner and walks up to toe the rubber. Umpire Bill Klem gives the 'play ball' signal. And 23,000 Red Sox rooters remain standing and cheering.
Ruth nods at the signal from catcher Cady, winds and fires. Rolfe swings at the first pitch fastball and lifts a high fly ball. It floats down the right-field line before barely clearing the wall just fair of the pole... home run.
The fans gasp and groan loudly. Then, they begin to cheer. As Rolfe circles the bases the cheer gets louder and louder. On the mound, Ruth shrugs and calls for another ball from umpire Klem. Then he notices Boston Manager Bill Carrigan coming to the mound.
"You taking me out, Skip? I ain't tired."
"Babe! Don't you know what's going on?"
"Yeah! We're about to win. And it's about damn time!"
"Babe! They're cheering you!"
Just then umpire Klem comes to the mound with a fresh baseball.
"Nice job, Babe!" The umpire Klem grins.
"Thanks! I won't call you 'Catfish' just for that."
"Babe!" Interjects Carrigan. "You really don't know what's going on, do you? Tip your damn cap!" The Bambino looks quizzically at Carrigan. he indeed doffs his cap to the Boston fans who are on their feet, still cheering. "Babe, that home run you just surrendered to Rolfe was the Yanks' first hit of the game. You pitched a no-hitter for eight innings!" The Babe grinned.
"You're not upset?" queried umpire Klem.
"Nah! These fans ain't had much to cheer about for a long, long time." The Babe waved his cap again. Then he retired the side to secure the victory.
After the game Ruth comes out of the Red Sox clubhouse. He's surprised to see the losing pitcher, Lefty Gomez.
"Kid; that was the best I've seen in a long time. That was a clinic you gave out there today." The youngster stammered a bit.
"T-Thanks, Mr. Gomez."
"Lefty! You call me 'Mr. Gomez', it makes me sound like your grandpa!" Ruth grinned.
"That was a long time coming. I'm sick and tired of losing."
"Listen Babe... this Yankee team... do you know how damn good they are?"
"I'm gettin' the idea."
"They score a thousand runs a year. Without my help. They keep me on the mound to keep me away from the batters' box. Sometimes after I retire the side, they sneak off the field and hope I stay out there!" The Babe laughed.
"They keep you on the mound because you're a great pitcher. Something I'm trying to be."
"Something you already are."
"Thanks, Lefty. Maybe someday they'll call me 'Lefty' too."
"I think they've got another nickname in mind for you." Lefty then stuck out his hand. "Just keep pitching them, son. Let's do it again in four days." And the two left-handers shook hands.
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