Me, Johnny, and The Babe

by Mark Wirtshafter

this was contingent on getting The Babe to play. Without Ruth, the rest of his plan would fall apart. Ruth was the one person that could draw enough people to make this plan actually work.

  We went to church early that Saturday morning, as Reverend Casey got ready to go meet with Ruth. Everyone knew how important this meeting was, but Reverend Casey seemed to be extremely relaxed and showed no outward signs of concern.

  However, he knew full well, that there was no guarantee that he was even going to get to meet with The Babe, let alone talk him into playing.

  Reverend Casey wore a dark suit with a crisp white hat. He was a portly man, not fat just a little wide. He had short gray hair and a bit of a double chin. As he left the church that day for this special meeting, he looked perfect. His suit was pressed, and his hair combed. He must have shined his shoes, as the sun reflected off them as he walked down the church steps.

  “We need to get to Shibe Park at least two hours before game time so I have time to meet with Mr. Ruth,” Reverend Casey said. “The best time to get his attention is when he is relaxing in the clubhouse.

  “Should we wait here so we can find out what he said,” Mrs. Dougherty asked. “What time do you think you’ll get back?”

  “I will come right back after I meet with Mr. Ruth and let you know how it turned out,” Reverend Casey replied.

  Two hours passed with no word. Someone turned on the radio and we listened as the baseball game had just begun. As the innings moved on, the crowd at the church began to dwindle.

  “It’s getting late, maybe we should go home,” my mom said. “We can always find out how Reverend Casey made out tomorrow.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep without knowing what happened,” I said.

  “Can’t we wait a little longer, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  We waited and waited.

  The Yankees beat the Athletics that afternoon which was not at all surprising. Ruth had a single and drove in two runs. By the time the game ended, Reverend Casey was still not back. The crowd at the church had shrunk to less than a dozen people.

  “There must be something wrong,” Mrs. Dougherty said. “The Reverend should have been back hours ago.”

  “I’m sure everything is fine,” my mom said to her.

  Finally, two hours after the game ended a black automobile drove up and Reverend Casey stepped out. I tried to look at his face for a hint of how he had made out, but he was stoic. He was not smiling, but seemed to have a bounce in his step as he entered the church. Judging by his demeanor the meeting could have gone either way.

  Mrs. Scanlon was the first to approach him. “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Well I couldn’t get in to meet him before the game,” Reverend Casey replied.

  “But you were gone so long,” Mrs. Scanlon continued.

  “I watched the game from the Athletics dugout and waited for everyone to leave the field as the game ended. Then I walked into the Yankees locker room. I had to wait until all the newspaper reporters were done asking Ruth all their questions,” Reverend Casey said.

  Reverend Casey then asked Mrs. Scanlon if she would go get him a drink of water. I figured this was a bad sign, as Reverend Casey was looking tired and somewhat defeated. While she was out of the room, Reverend Casey sat quietly, temporarily suspending his tale. I wanted to scream at him to tell us what happened, but he waited patiently for his glass of water. When Mrs. Scanlon returned he thanked her and slowly drank. He did not drink it in one big gulp, but in five or six measured sips, none of which seemed big enough to quench a thirst.

  “I walked over to where Mr. Ruth was sitting and he rose to greet me,” Reverend Casey continued. “I introduced myself and told him all about Boger Field and our idea for the charity baseball game,” pausing as he finished the sentence.

  “Well, what did he say?” Mrs. Scanlon asked.

  “Mrs. Scanlon, he only had one question,” Reverend Casey said. He said to me, “Father will this help the children?”

  Reverend Casey looked at Mrs. Scanlon as a tear welled up in his eye. Reverend Casey then nodded his head yes reenacting what he had done in response to Ruth’s question.

  “Without even a moment’s hesitation Mr. Ruth said that if it would help the children that he would do it. He didn’t ask any questions, or inquire about any of the details. He seemed genuinely concerned and told me that if it was going to benefit the kids then he would do it.”

  The tears in Reverend Casey’s eyes were now very evident. The meeting with Ruth was obviously very emotional for him.

  I could not believe what I had just heard. I wanted to run outside and scream. I hugged my mom as tight as I could without embarrassing her in front of Reverend Casey. Above all I thought about how great it would be to get to tell Johnny the big news.

  19

  We spent the entire school year dreaming of summer, with thoughts of how great the months of July and August were going to be. Daydreaming of long days filled with nothing but fun and games. No more school to waste our days, and no homework to ruin our nights.

  The reality of summer on the hot streets of Kensington was always something quite different. There was plenty of stickball, stoopball, and bottle caps, but there was also a tremendous amount of hours of tedium with nothing to do. The dreams we had of summer were never quite able to live up to the stark reality.

  People spent lots of time sitting out on their front stoops especially at night since the row-homes got so hot. You would see them holding the evening newspapers and fanning themselves with it to try to survive the brutal summer heat that baked the city. Sweat was the common denominator that drew us all together during those hot Kensington summers.

  Johnny and I started out the summer spending a lot of time in our clubhouse. By now, we had so much of our stuff down there that it felt like our second home. Being below ground level it also afforded us a little break from the oppressive heat that permeated the city streets above. It always seemed to be ten degrees cooler, the moment we slid through the window into the clubhouse.

  “I want to knock on Johnny’s door and tell him the big news,” I said to my mom as we arrived home after the meeting between Reverend Casey and The Babe.

  “It after ten o’clock and it’s far too late for you to be knocking on anybody’s door,” she said. “Besides you can tell him first thing tomorrow morning when we walk to church.”

  “But what if he finds out first from someone else. I want to make sure I am the one that gets to tell him.”

  “Don’t be silly, I don’t think anybody is gonna tell him while he’s sleeping,” my mom replied.

  “I’m gonna get up extra early tomorrow, just to make sure.”

  Of course, I overslept that Sunday morning and by the time I got dressed the Garrity family had already left for church.

  I still hoped to get to the church before the service started and pull Johnny aside to tell him. Walking to the church I tried to push ahead at a fast pace, but my parents kept up a slower, steadier, and more deliberate speed and I was constantly stopping to allow them to catch up.

  “Can’t you guys walk any faster?” I asked.

  “We’re right on time, there’s no need to hurry,” my dad said.

  We got to the church just as everyone was taking their seats and Reverend Casey was beginning to speak. I made eye contact with Johnny, but was not able to talk to him.

  Reverend Casey went through his normal routine and ended the service with a long sermon on the importance of charity.

  “In these trying times it is even more important for neighbors to help each other. If we do not reach out a helping hand to one another then what kind of neighbors are we. There is more to how we are judged as people than how we take care of our own families. We are also judged by what we do to help others.”

  It appeared that he was going to finish his sermon and end the service without even mentioning Babe Ruth or the charity baseball game.

  Just as I was sure that the servi
ce was ending, Reverend Casey stopped talking. He cleared his throat and said, “By the way I met with Babe Ruth yesterday and he agreed to play in a baseball game to help us raise money to pay off the loan on Boger field.” That was all he said, and he wished everyone peace and happiness for the week.

  The parishioners looked around at each other, finding it hard to believe what they had just heard. Was the great Babe Ruth really coming to our church to play a baseball game?

  “I can’t believe that the Reverend was able to convince Mr. Ruth to come here and play,” Mrs. Garrity said. “It’s incredible that he would come here and spend some of his very valuable time to try to help our kids.”

  “It was very late when he got back last night and told us, and I couldn’t believe it either,” my mom replied.

  There were smiles all around, as people could not believe our good fortune. I pushed my way through the crowd and tried to get to Johnny.

  “Hey Annie,” I said to Johnny’s, pushing my way past her not wanting to stop to even waste a moment in conversation.

  “Johnny, we got to make sure we’re a part of this,” I said when I reached him. “This is our one chance in life to meet Babe Ruth and I’m not going to waste it.”

  “I have a brilliant plan for getting to meet the Babe,” I started.

  “All we have to do is go to the Thursday night planning meetings and offer to help with the preparations for the game. I am certain that Reverend Casey will be so impressed that he will have to give us some job on the