The Babe & The Beast
Thursday, September 29, 1927: New York City
The Babe has become a beast, a beast feasting on the flesh of pitchers, and then tossing bits of their carcasses into the outfield stands.
In the dugout between at bats, he prowls back and forth, like a caged animal eyeing his prey.
He’s rarely without a bat in his paws.
In his mind he is always in the batter’s box.
When he hollers, “Let’s go, boys!” the beast is really hollering, “Hurry up! Get out of my way! You’re keeping me from another meal — and I’m hungry! The beast needs to eat. NOW!”
The beast ate twice today.
Meal number 58 comes early, in the first inning. It’s served up by Hod Lisenbee, the Senators’ 28-year-old, 18-game-winning rookie sensation, who has fooled our team all year.
Lisenbee is 4–0 against us, and, according to Ford Frick, the rookie has a 1.73 ERA in his starts against Murderers’ Row.
But today the beast devours him.
In his first at bat, the beast chews Lisenbee up and spits his bones into the right field bleachers. Then he dances around the bases, licking his lips, clearly hungry for more.
The very next inning, the beast rips a triple off Lisenbee, mortally wounding the rookie, whose next and last pitch, thrown to Gehrig, is a wild one, allowing the beast to score, again.
The beast howls as he crosses the plate. And just like that, Lisenbee is gone.
In the fifth, the beast returns to the plate, snarling at poor young Paul Hopkins, a 23-year-old pup. This is Hopkins very first appearance on a big league mound — the beast is the first major league batter the pup has ever faced. God help him.
Washington’s player-manager, Bucky Harris, instructs Hopkins to lure the beast to sleep with curveballs, and to keep them off his plate.
Hopkins taunts the beast with six slow floaters in a row.
It’s futile.
The last, on a 3–2 count, is swatted by the beast deep into the right field stands.
The beast’s 59th kill of the season.
In the locker room after the game, the beast is gone, and the Babe has returned.
Today Ruth tied his own unfathomable record.
59 home runs.
More than any other team in the American League.
And there are still two games left in the season.
Tomorrow, the beast will be hungry again.
