The Babe and I

I’ve always loved baseball and am a dyed-in-the-wool Yankee fan, ever since I went to Yankee Stadium in 1947, on opening day. Our box seats were right behind the dugout and in the box right next to us was none other than Babe Ruth. Yes, I got his autograph—not only that, a Daily News photographer caught the scene which ran as a full page on the cover the next day.

I was not a very good player myself, but I had a ball and glove with me every day from that day right through my teen years. I was good fielder, but could never hit the long ball. Speaking of my inability to hit reminds me suddenly of a kid in my grade school in Pelham. He was a class or two behind me, and probably autistic (although no one even knew what that was back then). His name was Fred. Our team could never get him out. He hit monstrous homers almost every time at bat; and rounding the bases he giggled insanely, which really bothered me. “Why are you laughing?” I would ask. “What would you do?” he responded. Now I wonder if I could ever hit a ball like Fred, I would also giggle insanely.

Anyway, here’s that shot of me (age nine) and the Bambino:

What caused this Stack to be about baseball? My team is being, well, shellacked by the hated Dodgers, who, like Fred, are giggling insanely. It’s not over yet; but it seems we lost our mojo in game one. Now it’s 0 to 3.

Who knows what might happen? It’s a stretch for any team to win four straight against the Bums.

And also, there’s an election coming up. An important one, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps soon I’ll explain what Biden must do if any trouble ensues.