The On Deck Circle

"He was more than a baseball player. He was a worldwide celebrity, an international star, the likes of which baseball has never seen since. To say 'Babe Ruth' is to say baseball"

Ernie Harwell-Broacaster, Detroit Tigers

Baseball is a generational game, handed down from parent to child and passed on in perpetuity. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, or any combination thereof, fill stadiums and ballparks throughout the country on a daily basis to share their love of not only the game, but one another. Sharing a Saturday afternoon at the ballpark, munching hot dogs, peanuts and popcorn, while discussing what was unfolding before us, this is what I dreamed of, as soon as the doctor told me that I would be having a child. This is what my dad and my grandfathers did with me, this is what I would do with my children.

This history of baseball is something that we, as fans, hold in the highest regard. It is something that we debate, re-hash, and discuss. We hold today's players up to the records and statistics of those that came before them and when you discuss the history of baseball, one name always comes to the forefront. Babe Ruth.

The Babe is considered, by many, to be the greatest ballplayer who has ever lived. Not only was he a Hall of Fame caliber player as an outfielder, but he most likely would have been one as a pitcher as well, had the Yankees not decided that his bat was a bigger weapon than his arm. People everywhere have heard of Babe Ruth, he transcends the game and is synonymous with its name. As soon as a child is old enough to know about the game they learn of this magical presence and what he means to the history of the game. In my opinion, he IS baseball and therefore we consider him to be the father of "Baseball Gods". 

The Bambino

As I wrote in my previous entry, I am not an overtly religious person, but I do believe that a prayer must be said before undertaking an adventure such as this. We would be praying for a safe journey, good weather, great games and fantastic times with family and friends. I spoke to Ryan and he thought it was a great idea, so we did a little research which led us to the Gates of Heaven Cemetery, in the little hamlet of Hawthorne, in New York's Westchester County, which is about 30 minutes from our home. Here we would come face to face with our "God".

"What do we bring a Baseball God?", Ryan asked while munching on a bowl of cereal.
"I'm not sure." I said. "A bat, a ball, maybe something to that effect?"
"Nah and we can't bring him any Yankees' stuff, cause this is not a Yankees Trip"
"Let's think about this, stop talking with your mouth full and quit dripping milk on the table", I told him.

After finishing breakfast and cleaning up the mess that only an eleven year old can make with a bowl of cereal, we sat down and brainstormed.
"Ok, whaddaya got?", I asked.
"Well, Babe Ruth IS baseball, right?"
"I think so, don't you?", I questioned.
"DUH", was his keen reply as he rolled his eyes at me, as only a kid can to a parent.

Then, out of his mouth came the smartest idea that could come when discussing a subject such as this.
"When I go to a ballgame, I smell hot dogs all over and the Babe loved hot dogs. So, I think we have to bring him a hot dog. But, he'll need something to wash that down with."
I couldn't wait to hear what was coming next.
"The Babe also loved beer and you've always said that there is nothing better than a dog and a beer when watching the game. So, I think we should offer him a dog and a beer to start our trip."

"Let me get this straight, Ryan. You want to go to Babe Ruth's grave and leave him a hot dog and a beer as an offering for him to watch over us?" I asked while laughing?
"Yeah, what's wrong with that, can you come up with something better?"
"Not at all", I replied. "That's perfect".
So, into the kitchen we went to create a hot dog fit for a Baseball God.

Now, apparently, the perfect dog is simple. It's boiled in beer, put on a roll and covered in mustard.
"Smells like a stadium already", Ryan said.
"I'm not sure that's the smell your mother was going for, when we got this house. But, I agree." I told him.
"Ok kiddo, let's go get a beer from the fridge in the garage and we'll be off."

However, when opening the fridge, we had a conundrum.
"We only have light beer", Ryan exclaimed. "The Babe didn't drink light beer".
"I'm sure we have a few non light beers in here. But, maybe if he had, he would have been more productive in his later years" was my reply. For that I got another eye roll.
"You drink light beer and it didn't help you"
"No one likes a wise ass, Ryan", I said while suppressing a laugh. "Besides, it was Chuck Knoblauch that stole my rightful place in the pantheon of Yankees' greatness", I replied.
"I thought it was your bad knee, but yeah, let's go with that", I was told as he grabbed the non light beers and got in the car.

The drive to Hawthorne went quickly and we passed the time talking about the games we were going to see, the things we wanted to do in the various cities and the people we were hoping to get together with. In all, it took about 30 minutes and provided us with the opportunity to further cement what it was exactly that we were undertaking. It was a good conversation.

As we pulled off the highway and made a right hand turn, the cemetery came into view. Our conversation came to a quick stop and a quiet hush came over the car. We made a left and pulled into the Gates of Heaven Cemetery, which sprawled out in front of us in a beautiful view of hills, flat-lands and a pond.
"Where's The Babe?", I heard from the backseat, in a hushed tone.
"I have no idea", I replied.
"We came all the way up here, to see The Babe, and you have no idea where he is?" My incredulous son asked.
"I figured we'd go to the office", I replied.
All I got, when I turned around, was a head shake.

After stopping in the office and speaking to a very friendly woman, we got back in the car and drove to the spot the caretaker had indicated. At least I thought it was where she indicated. Apparently, I was wrong.
"Hey, Daddy. Have you found it yet?", I was asked from the backseat.
"No, I think it's over there".
"I think we've driven past this spot twice. Didn't you take a map from the office?", Ryan asked.
"I don't need a map, we'll be fine"
A few minutes later: "I wish I took a map".
"Here", he said handing one up to the front seat. "Good thing you have me along".
We both laughed, turned the car around and found the spot.

As we approached The Babe's grave we noticed that his grave marker was larger than life, just as he was. It stands about seven to eight feet tall, is made of white granite and has an image of Jesus, looking down at a child garbed in a baseball uniform, with his hand behind the child's head on it. On the left "wing" is an etched quote from Cardinal Spellman, that reads:

"MAY THE DIVINE SPIRIT THAT ANIMATED BABE RUTH TO WIN THE CRUCIAL GAME OF LIFE INSPIRE THE YOUTH OF AMERICA!"

On the right wing are the inscriptions for The Babe and his wife, Claire, that read:

GEORGE HERMAN RUTH

1895-1948

CLAIRE RUTH

1900-1976

In front of the grave were all sorts of things left by the various people that had come before us.There were American flags, Yankees flags, a Red Sox patch and baseballs by the dozen. You could tell on simple inspection how much this man means to many people. 

We soaked it in all in front of us in quiet reverence, simply awestruck that we were in the presence of The Babe. Ryan unwrapped the dog, while I opened the beer.

"Shouldn't we say something?" Ryan asked as we approached the grave.

"You're right", I told him.

So we knelt down and placed the dog and the beer before us and I thought of a few words.

" Oh, great Father of the Baseball Gods. Please accept our offering of this hot dog and beer in honor of your memory and devotion to the game. We ask that you take these gifts as a token of our love and respect and ask you to watch over us as we undertake this journey to see the game you loved so much. Please bless us with safe travel, warm weather, good games and fun times with family and friends, both old and new. Thank you, Amen"

"Cool", was Ryan's response as we lay the dog and the beer at the foot of the grave, took some pictures and slowly walked away.

"Now, we're ready to start", Ryan said while looking up at me.

"Not quite yet", I replied. "Over This way. There is someone else we have to visit"

"Who?"

"You'll see. This way".

About seventy yards up, and to the left, of The Babe, lays another Yankee. This one may not have been as famous, in baseball history, as Ruth, but he surely was one of the most beloved in Yankees' history... Billy Martin.

Billy Martin, the feisty player and later manager of the Yankees, has a gravemarker made from marbled granite, which, like The Babe's, is divided into three sections. However, it lies horizontal, with the middle rising higher than the left and right "wings". Each "wing" has a carved #1 and from left to right, the head stone has engravings as well as carvings.

The left "wing" has the carved #1, followed by a carving of Saint Jude which underneath reads, simply:

St. Jude pray for us 

The middle section raises above each wing and is adorned with a cross, underneath which reads:

MARTIN

Alfred Manuel

"Billy"

May 16, 1928

December 25, 1989

The far right "wing: is lowered to the height of its counterpart on the left and reads:

"I may not have been

the greatest Yankee to

put on the uniform

but I was the proudest"

                         B.M.

This is followed by another carved #1.

As I reached into the bag, Ryan asked, "Is that why we brought more beer?"

"Yes", I replied simply.

"Why didn't we bring more hot dogs?"

"Billy would rather have a second beer", I told him.

I uncapped the two beers as we knelt once more in front of the grave.

"Oh, manager to the Yankee greats", I started. "Please accept these tokens of our generosity, in the hope that you will watch over us for any Yankee games we may attend, during our journey. Please allow us as many victories as possible in those games and let us never forget that it is the excitement of the adventure that drives us, not the desire for a win. Amen."

"But, please also remember that we HATE to lose and are not going to see a lot of Yankees' games on this tour, so for those couple of games could we please have a win? Especially in Boston. Amen", a small, hushed voice called out to my right.

He looked over and smiled and said, "Was that OK to add?"

"It was perfect, Ryan. It was perfect. C'mon, let's head home."

As we drove quietly home, I wondered what was in store for us as we began our journey. I was nervous, excited and a bit apprehensive. I asked Ryan, "Well, what did you think?"

"I think it was a great day and it was pretty cool to see The Babe and Billy. I think they appreciated that we took the time to see them and left everything. I bet those beers are gone and the dog has been eaten already and that they'll be watching over us over the years." 

He stopped and thought for a moment  and then added, "but we better do this every year, just to make sure"

"Absolutely, little man. Absolutely. Now, we have our first game to think about. You wanted to open up 'at home', right?"

"Definitely", he responded. "We're going on June 30th, against the White Sox, right?"

"Yup, what do you think?"

"LETS GO YANKEES", was the only reply I got...

First stop:

June 30, 2012

Yankee Stadium

Bronx, New York

Chicago White Sox Vs New York Yankees