like none other.
Perhaps this is an exaggeration, but there
is the sense that if not for Babe Ruth, New York would be just
another city, little greater in stature than, say, Boston or
Philadelphia. He is a symbol of all that is greater, bigger and
more magnificent about New York City. The Babe is the most
larger-than-life member of the true New York Sports Icon club. Babe
was in many ways the anti-Christy Mathewson. Ruth was a drinker,
womanizer and reprobate. But despite this, despite his roly-poly
visage, with all due respect for Jim Thorpe, Jesse Owens, Red
Grange, Bob Mathias, Rafer Johnson, Jim Brown, Willie Mays, Wilt
Chamberlain, Mark Spitz, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Muhammad Ali, Joe
Montana, Bo Jackson, Wayne Gretzky, Michael Jackson or Barry Bonds,
he was the Greatest Athlete of All Time.
To measure Ruth’s impact on the game, try
and imagine Greg Maddux or Roger Clemens, some time in the early
1990s when both were established as the two best pitchers in
baseball, holding a press conference announcing they were retiring
from the mound to play right field. Then imagine one of them doing
over the next 15 years what Bonds has done offensively. Nobody ever
dominated his sport in his time as thoroughly as did Ruth in his.
No athlete ever revolutionized his game, sports in general, or had
the effect on society, like Babe Ruth.
Lou Gehrig was a later version of Mathewson:
native New Yorker, Ivy Leaguer out of Columbia, the ultimate team
guy, heroic and honest, perhaps the very best first baseman who
ever played. He was a man who emerged from Ruth’s shadow to lead
the Yankees to consecutive World Championships in 1936, 1937 and
1938 before ALS sidelined him in 1939, ending his “Ironman”
consecutive game streak and later his life in tragic grace. He
declared himself the “luckiest man on the face of the Earth” in one
of the most transcendent moments in sports history. Pride of the
Yankees starring Gary Cooper is still thought of as the
ultimate sports movie.
Joe DiMaggio was the quintessential true New
York Sports Icon. Interestingly, his statistics pale next to
Ruth’s, Gehrig’s, his contemporary Ted Williams, Willie Mays and
even Mickey Mantle. When Williams was risking it all as a fighter
pilot he was playing on a Navy baseball team in Hawaii. When
Italians were said to be either Mobsters or Fascists, DiMaggio gave
them a heroic figure to cheer and emulate, even though he
socialized with organized crime figures. Later biographers revealed
his true nature, which was disturbing to say the least, but for
some reason the press protected him with the zealotry of the
Central Intelligence Agency. There had to be a reason for it. His
aloofness was called grace, his imperial attitude called class.
DiMaggio was the ultimate winner. He was the personification
of a baseball idol. When he wedded Marilyn Monroe he defined the
marriage between sports and entertainment that the true New York
Sports Icon embodies.
Mickey Mantle is another of those tragic
figures, but a legend whose place in the club is completely secure.
As a player, he had few if any equals. Historians rate Ruth, Mays,
perhaps Hank Aaron and Barry Bonds, above him. However, it was his
drawbacks that are viewed as his strengths. The Mick is seen as a
cripple, but implicit in this description is the notion that had he
not had osteomyelitis, and had he not injured seemingly every part
of his great body, Mick’s records would never have been surpassed.
Mantle’s combination of awesome body strength and speed was greater
than Mays. The Yankees were never going to risk further injury by
running him, but absent his physical maladies Mick had the
potential to steal 50 bases a year had he so chosen.
As a star performer on a winning team, Mick
equaled and possibly even surpassed DiMaggio. Unlike Joe D. (who
was respected) he was beloved by teammates. He was a drinker, the
life of the party and hit more spectacular home runs that carried
the Yankees to victory than
Robert Chazz Chute, Holly Pop
Jenny Han, Siobhan Vivian