The Selling of the Babe by Glenn Stout Read Free Book Online Page A

much, and if there was room for an extra man to shag some flies, take some ground balls in the infield, or, in particular, take a few extra cracks at the plate, Ruth was ready and jumped right in.
    Usually, by the time the squad was in good enough shape to play exhibition games, the regulars took over and once the games began pitchers such as Ruth waited their turn. But there was nothing usual about the spring of 1918.
    For one, in the early days of March it was hot in Hot Springs, and humid. The temperature touched 90 degrees, leaving some out-of-shape players panting in pools of sweat and leading Barrow to warn some slackers, who would douse their heads and then claim fatigue, that he was on to their “water bucket camouflage.” Nevertheless, the heat gave Ruth more opportunity to play. In the early days of the spring, Barrow was already scrambling to fill every position. As Barrow struggled to make up for the loss of Gardner, catcher Sam Agnew was pressed into duty at third, as was first baseman Stuffy McInnis.
    So during those first few practices, by necessity as much as anything else, Ruth played a little first base, which also gave him some incentive to turn in before dawn. Barrow already had him rooming with coach Dan Howley for just that reason—later, he’d be paired with Johnny Evers. But as the exhibition season began on March 17 when the Sox played the first of a series of exhibitions with the National League Brooklyn Robins at Whittington Park Ruth took the field for that initial contest, not on the mound, but at first base.
    That was newsworthy in itself—in the Globe , Ed Martin called him “‘Hal Chase’ Ruth” after the slick-fielding first sacker considered the best in the game. But what Ruth did at the plate attracted even more attention.
    He hit two home runs, one to left center and the other to right, where it cleared a fence that served as a barricade between the park and an alligator farm, and where, Martin noted, “It kicked up no end of commotion among the alligators.” The headline in the newspaper the next day referred to Boston’s “Great Bombardment,” and the Boston Post reported that even the Brooklyn players had stood and cheered the hit into the gator pen.
    It was a great achievement—but also not quite as impressive as it first appeared. The two pitchers Ruth faced that day, Harry Heightman and Norman Plitt, were barely major leaguers and hadn’t been throwing a week. It was also the start of spring training and balls were nearly new and still relatively tight, as lively as the dead ball would ever be. Ruth’s performance was impressive but hardly unheard of.
    Significantly, every report of the game also left out one very important fact. Although it was about 360 feet to the fence in left field and more than 400 to center, down the right field line it was only 260 to the alligator farm. Although the field had once been spacious, due to floods it had been reconfigured several years earlier and the dimensions made much more cozy. Had the game been played anywhere else, such as Majestic Park, the other spring training park in Hot Springs and Boston’s home there in both 1917 and 1919, Ruth may not have even hit a home run at all, and had he not, well, what would have happened if Princip had been a bad shot?
    The reporters weren’t being too cute: press was important. The Red Sox planned to barnstorm their way back north, and anything that could drum up publicity mattered. The alligators were good copy, and most reports made sure to mention the farm. Crowds were important and word traveled fast. While not quite the attraction of the local casino, seeing Ruth scatter a group of gators with a baseball was a draw, even if it was little more than a routine fly. The crowds at Boston’s morning workouts began to increase and attendance at the exhibitions between the Sox and Brooklyn were almost on par with turnout at the