Almost make believe, except he was authentic, magnetic, entertaining, exploding with vitality and colorfully animated without knowing it. Yes, and susceptible to all the weaknesses of humankind while endowed with overpowering skills that set him apart as baseball's most accomplished player of all time.
His presence had an almost mythical yet mystical impact on America that no other athlete, before or since, has been able to command. A combination of ability, personality and boisterous charm that drew crowds until his dying day and, yes, even beyond, because 6,600 mourners attended his funeral and another 75,000 were standing in the streets under an oppressive summer sky that was dripping rain, while paying silent tribute as the cortege made its way from New York's St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Babe Ruth died 50 years ago today, at 8: 01 p.m., age 53, after a consoling visit from a priest and making peace with his maker. He had been a convert to Catholicism while attending Baltimore's St. Mary's Industrial School. The cause of his death was cancer, but, only weeks before, he looked up at a visitor, the esteemed Connie Mack, and said, "Mr. Mack, I think the termites got me."
A child of God. Playful. Laughing. Clowning. Uninhibited. Unsophisticated. Riding a merry-go-round through a life that seemed almost a nonstop trip to fantasy land. He was Babe Ruth. No rags-to-riches story born of fiction or fact ever compared to his. Though lacking formal education, he had an intellect that caused psychologists at Columbia University to say his IQ, although not as high as his batting average, put him in the top 10 percent of Americans. His aptitude was exceptional and the way he signed his name carried a grace within the simplicity of his penmanship.
More books, movies and documentaries have been produced about his life than about any other athlete in history. The Baltimore Orioles of the International League signed him without ever seeing him play, basing their interest and trust on merely what they had heard.
"He's the big kid sliding on the ice," the Orioles were told when they visited St. Mary's in early February 1914. They signed him to a contract for $600 for the season and sent him off to spring training in Fayetteville, N.C. In his pocket was the princely sum of 11 cents. He had never been on a train, visited a restaurant, stayed in a hotel or ridden an elevator.
