Finally, Gehrig had become the Yankees hitter opponents most feared. A cartoon in the New York Daily News depicted him emerging from Ruth’s shadow, a sentiment Gehrig appreciated. But he also could not help wondering if he would always be measured in relation to Ruth. Could he ever separate himself?
His consecutive-game streak certainly was one way. It was a unique achievement. Gehrig owned the all-time record. And even though he believed it was partly attributable to “good fortune,” as he had written in his note to the Sporting News, he also believed it reflected admirable qualities. You had to be committed, determined, and tough. Gehrig had played with broken bones and back pain. As he watched Ruth’s years of overindulgence exact a toll, he was proud that he stayed in shape and was always available to play, and he liked that an appreciation for his approach was growing.
“Lou lives by copy-book maxims. He has all the sturdy virtues. He doesn’t drink. He goes to bed early and gets up early. He is straightforward and upstanding. He has worked hard and he has prospered. He has been a great ball player on a great club. He is clearly entitled to all the honors they may bestow upon him,” John Kieran wrote in the New York Times.
Without announcing his intention, Gehrig resolved to continue playing every day for as long as he could. He was just 30, healthy and bullishly strong. He could keep going for years, he believed. If the acclaim he already received was any indication, the streak could help him forge a legacy apart from Ruth.
As if to prove he could play through any issue, he came to Yankee Stadium on May 10, 1934, with a miserable cold. But instead of asking off, as many players would have, he slammed two home runs and a pair of doubles in the first five innings against the White Sox, driving in seven runs before McCarthy finally took him out. “Fans wondered what he would have done at bat if he had been in perfect health,” the New York Times wrote, adding that Gehrig surely would keep playing every day, “cold or no cold.”
A little over a month later, 55,000 fans came to Yankee Stadium for a doubleheader against Detroit. The teams were one game apart at the top of the American League standings. The Yankees won the first game as Gehrig knocked in a run and Ruth struck out twice. But in the fourth inning of the second game, Gehrig fouled a pitch off his right big toe. He played the rest of the game with a noticeable limp, and X-rays taken that night revealed a chipped bone. “Lou was urged to take a few days off,” one newspaper reported. But he decided to keep playing after the Yankees’ orthopedic surgeon explained that he could not make the injury worse.
“If it was my left foot, it would be different,” he told reporters. “I get most of my drive off my left foot, and it’s my left foot that I use in touching the bag when fielding around first base. Of course, it hurts when I run, but that’s all right. At this particular point, I think it is best I stay in the lineup. If I thought I was hurting the team any, I wouldn’t care about that consecutive-game mark. I’d get out.”
He limped through a loss to the Tigers on June 18, but no one dared suggest that he was “hurting the team any.” He hit a long home run to right field, scored twice, and handled 13 fielding chances without an error. After the game, one newspaper reported that “a good deal of pain was attached to Lou’s Iron Man stunt” and “despite his eagerness to play, the injury may yet force him to the sidelines.”
It did not. After a well-timed off day for the Yankees, Gehrig played both games of a doubleheader against Cleveland on June 20. Although he still limped, he hit a home run in the first game and reached base four times in the second as the Yankees won twice. Afterward, he smiled as he told reporters it would take more than a broken toe to end his streak, which now stood at 1,406 straight games.
In late June 1934, the Yankees traveled to Washington for a series against the Senators that included three games over four days. On the off day, they traveled to Norfolk, Virginia, to play an exhibition against one of the franchise’s minor league affiliates. It was the last thing the players wanted to do; they had played games for nine straight days. Gehrig’s broken toe was not healed, but management wanted him to play in Norfolk, where the Yankees’ visit was the big event of the summer.
A sellout crowd filled Norfolk’s ballpark. The home team’s starting pitcher, Ray White, was a hard-throwing right-hander who, like Gehrig, had attended Columbia University and played on the baseball team. But White was not a fan of Gehrig’s. The two had been introduced several years earlier, and when they saw each other later, Gehrig acted as if he did not know White. Gehrig probably was not shunning the youngster—he could be awkward socially—but White took it personally. After yielding a home run to Gehrig in spring training in 1934, White hit him with a pitch in Gehrig’s next at-bat. Now, months later, White was determined to get the best of Gehrig.
He probably was too excited. The Yankees’ leadoff batter, Myril Hoag, hit White’s first pitch for a home run. Then Ruth singled, bringing Gehrig to the plate. White fired his best pitch, a searing fastball. Gehrig swung his thick torso, made contact, and watched the ball soar out of the park. As Gehrig circled the bases, White watched him disgustedly, hands on hips.
The Norfolk club staged its own rally in the bottom of the inning, scoring four runs, but White was still fuming when Gehrig batted again in the top of the second. The pitcher hurled another fastball, this time up and in, intending to send a message. Gehrig waited too late to react, and the ball hit him squarely in the face, just above his right eye. He collapsed next to home plate.
Doc Painter, the Yankees’ trainer, raced from the dugout to attend to Gehrig. “Lying still as death itself,” according to the New York Post, Gehrig did not stir while Painter dabbed him with a wet towel for several minutes. Finally, he sat up. Bill Dickey, the Yankees’ catcher, provided a shoulder to lean on as he staggered off the field. Norfolk’s team doctor examined him in the clubhouse and said he had “a moderate concussion.” Gehrig returned to the Monticello Hotel, where the Yankees had spent the night. He showered, dressed, and drank a beer at the bar, joking with a reporter that it would take more than a blow to the head to stop him.
That evening, the Yankees took a boat back to Washington. The next morning, Gehrig woke with a headache and a purple bruise on his forehead. But X-rays revealed no fractures, and Gehrig told McCarthy he wanted to play against the Senators that afternoon.
Shortly before the players left for the ballpark, a reporter came across Ruth in the lobby of the team hotel.
“How’s Gehrig?” the reporter asked.
Ruth waved a hand dismissively. “You can’t hurt that guy unless you go to work on him with an axe,” Ruth said.
The date was June 30, 1934, a Saturday. The Yankees were in first place. Gehrig had played in 1,414 straight games. When he came to bat in the top of the first, he drove a fastball into the gap between left field and center. The ball dropped to the ground and rolled to the wall. Gehrig sprinted around first and second and reached third standing up.
When he batted again in the third inning, he knocked another triple, this time to deep center field. In the top of the fifth, he slugged his third triple in as many at-bats. Fans at Griffith Stadium could only shake their heads at Gehrig’s show, unaware that he had a bruise on his forehead and probably never should have set foot on the diamond. Gehrig’s teammates also shook their heads, marveling at his ability to not just play but also excel with an injury.
When heavy rains washed the teams from the field before the end of the fifth, the game was called off before it became official, wiping its statistics from the record books. Gehrig’s three-triple performance vanished from the books, but those who saw it knew, as Gehrig had joked the day before, that it was going to take more than a fastball to the head to stop him.
In mid-July, the Yankees traveled to Detroit for a crucial four-game series. They were in first place, a half game ahead of the Tigers. The four games would draw close to 90,000 fans to Navin Field, the Tigers’ intimate park near downtown.
Gehrig drove in his 90th run of th
e season in the series opener, which the Tigers won, then complained after the game that his back was sore and needed treatment. The Yankees were not alarmed. They believed Gehrig had chronic lumbago, a lower-back ailment that was a form of rheumatism. He experienced intermittent pain in his back and legs and always played through it.
The next night, though, he suffered a setback. Facing Tommy Bridges, a Detroit pitcher whose arsenal included a renowned curveball, Gehrig swung awkwardly at a breaking pitch on the outside corner. He made contact, but as the ball sailed away, “the rest of my back went with it,” Gehrig said later.
The ball landed in shallow center field for a single as Gehrig stumbled, almost falling, while running to first. He could barely stand but stayed in the game, taking second when the next batter singled. Dickey followed with a line drive that Detroit’s second baseman, Charlie Gehringer, grabbed. Gehringer stepped on the bag to double off Gehrig, who could not move nearly fast enough to get back to the bag.
Returning to the dugout after that play, Gehrig told McCarthy he needed to come out of the game. His departure produced a sizable shuffle. McCarthy moved third baseman Jack Saltzgaver to first, moved shortstop Frank Crosetti to third, and brought Red Rolfe off the bench to play shortstop—a hint of the finagling McCarthy hardly ever faced because Gehrig played every day.
That evening, Doc Painter worked on Gehrig’s back in his hotel room, applying a heat treatment and massage. But his back felt no better the next morning. “I had to fall out of bed to get up. Doc had to dress me,” Gehrig said in a 1939 interview. The date was July 14, 1934. Gehrig had played in 1,426 straight games. He later admitted he “wanted to remain in bed” and not play because of the searing back pain, but “club officials urged me not to break the [streak].” In a 1936 interview with St. Louis sportswriter Sid Keener, Gehrig recalled: “I had sent word to McCarthy that I was down for good this time. He came running up to my hotel room. He wouldn’t let me end the record. He helped dress me and had me carried out to the park where my teammates aided me in putting on my uniform.”
Warming up, he experienced pain so intense it “made breathing difficult and swinging a bat torture,” the New York Times reported. Soaked in sweat, Gehrig reportedly told McCarthy he “could not go nine” innings. But McCarthy “insisted” on Gehrig making at least one plate appearance to extend the streak, Gehrig told Keener.
McCarthy’s lineup had Gehrig batting first and playing shortstop, a position he had never manned. When the game began, he hobbled to the plate, bent at the waist, and lunged at the first pitch. The ball popped lightly off his bat and landed in short right field for a single. Gehrig trudged to first and stopped on the bag. McCarthy sent Rolfe in to run for him. Gehrig limped to the dugout, his day over.
The box score for the game, which Detroit won, 12–11, listed Gehrig as the Yankees’ starting shortstop. But he never played there. Rolfe played all nine innings at shortstop, while Saltzgaver manned first. But Gehrig’s lone at-bat meant he had played. His consecutive-game streak continued.
The New York Times reported the curious scene without rendering a judgment. Some sportswriters lauded Gehrig, suggesting the stunt illustrated his toughness. But Bud Shaver, an editor and columnist for the Detroit Times, was appalled.
“Instead of enhancing his reputation for durability, Gehrig sullied it,” Shaver wrote. “He also impugned his reputation for sensibility. If a man is too ill to play, the sensible thing to do is refrain from playing. His physical handicaps are apt to be disastrous for his teammates. Records preserved in the manner in which Gehrig preserved his at Navin Field prove nothing except the absurdity of most records.”
If anything, the maneuver forever quashed the myth that Gehrig did not care about his streak. Although he insisted it was the team’s idea for him to play, he went along with a stunt derived strictly to get him through a tough day with his streak intact.
The next day, his back still hurt, but when Doc Painter wrapped a tight swath of adhesive tape around his torso, he found he could move relatively freely without collapsing. McCarthy put him at his usual spots, batting third and playing first base. Facing Schoolboy Rowe, a tough right-handed pitcher in the middle of a personal 16-game winning streak, Gehrig could not take full swings, but he could push his bat at the ball. In an 8–3 defeat for the Yankees, Gehrig singled in each of his four trips to the plate.
The Tigers eventually pulled away in the standings, winning 14 games in a row at one point to lock up the pennant. Gehrig did his best to keep the Yankees in contention. Despite a concussion, fractured toe, and lumbago, he led the American League in batting average (.363), home runs (49), and runs batted in (165), capturing the Triple Crown for the only time in his career. It was a feat Ruth never achieved.
On the next-to-last day of the season, Gehrig and McCarthy again executed a dubious maneuver to extend his playing streak. In the second game of a doubleheader in Washington on September 29, Gehrig batted in the top of the first, drew a walk, and left for a pinch runner. Though listed as the starting first baseman in the box score, he never took the field.
Three years later, Gehrig reiterated in an interview that it was McCarthy and the Yankees who wanted him to extend his streak with such stunts. The manager practically begged him that day in Detroit, Gehrig said, identifying that occasion as “the closest I ever came” to ending his streak. “And it’s as close as I want to come,” he said. “I’ll take those broken fingers and busted toes, but no more sore backs for me.”
On the last day of the 1934 season, Ruth played what many believed was his final major league game, going hitless against the Senators in Washington. A band from St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys in nearby Baltimore serenaded its famous alum. The Senators presented him with a scroll signed by President Franklin Roosevelt, cabinet members, and fans. After Washington’s 5–3 win, Ruth gave a short speech and told reporters he would continue in baseball “as long as I can do anybody any good.”
He wanted to manage. He had played on while his talents ebbed, enduring the indignity of Ruppert’s cutting his salary, because he thought Ruppert might fire McCarthy, opening the door for him to take over. Ruth thought he deserved the chance as a reward for his contributions to the franchise. He had made the Yankees into the colossus they now were, he believed.
But Ruth had misread the situation. After dealing with Ruth’s indiscretions and outright rebelliousness for years, Ruppert was not about to put him in charge. Before the 1934 season, Ruppert had offered to let him manage the franchise’s minor league affiliate in Newark, New Jersey, privately believing Ruth would dislike the job and give up on his dream of managing the Yankees. But Ruth turned down the Newark job, opting to continue playing for the Yankees. “I’m a big leaguer,” he groused.
What Ruppert really wanted was a graceful parting with his larger-than-life star. It finally happened, not so gracefully, after the 1934 season, in which Ruth hit 22 home runs, less than half of Gehrig’s total, while dealing with multiple injuries and ailments. Even Ruth could see that his time in New York was up. “I’m through with the Yankees unless I can manage them,” he conceded, and Ruppert was not about to let that happen.
Gehrig was glad to see him go. When Gehrig first broke in with the Yankees, he had admired Ruth’s talent and celebrity. It was exciting for him when they became friends. After Ruth hit 60 home runs in 1927, he was asked if he could do it again. “I don’t know, but if I don’t, I know who will: that bozo over there,” he said, pointing to Gehrig. The compliment, delivered as only Ruth could, meant the world to Gehrig at the time. But as he matured, Gehrig was increasingly annoyed by Ruth. Gehrig would never chase women, drink all night before playing, or take the field with a hangover. His disdain was evident to any observer paying close attention. Whenever Ruth scored a run, Gehrig turned his back rather than congratulate his teammate at home plate.
Their relationship disintegrated into outright hostility after the 1934 season. Both players were on an All-Star team that
toured Japan. On the boat ride over, it was rumored that Ruth flirted with Eleanor Gehrig one day in his cabin. Later that winter, a visit by Ruth’s wife to Gehrig’s mother in New Rochelle led to more trouble.
Ruth had always enjoyed “Mom Gehrig,” as everyone called her, and she, in turn, had enjoyed Ruth’s lighthearted banter. She also had liked Ruth’s first wife, Helen, and their daughter, Dorothy. In the years when Ruth and Gehrig got along well, Ruth occasionally tagged along when Gehrig visited his parents, often bringing Dorothy. Ruth even surprised Mom Gehrig with a puppy once.
But Ruth visited little after his marriage to Helen fell apart, mostly due to his infidelities, and Mom Gehrig did not like his second wife, Claire, a former showgirl. Undeterred, Claire visited Mom Gehrig one day after the 1934 season. She brought Julia, her 17-year-old daughter from a previous marriage, as well as Dorothy, now a 12-year-old tomboy. Julia dressed more stylishly than Dorothy, and Mom Gehrig noted the difference and later made a comment about it being a shame. The comment got back to Ruth, who told Gehrig his mother should mind her own business. Gehrig was furious. No one criticized his mother.
Although Gehrig’s wife found it silly that the two could not get along, Gehrig was adamant about distancing himself from Ruth. Equally angry, Ruth forbade anyone in his family to speak to anyone in Gehrig’s family.
Finished as teammates, Ruth and Gehrig were also finished as friends.
It was a testy time for Ruth. He had no job in baseball now that the Yankees were done with him. The Senators considered hiring him as their manager, but his high salary demand scuttled the idea. Connie Mack also considered hiring him to manage in Philadelphia, hoping his presence would sell tickets, but Mack eventually decided against it. Ruth finally found a home when the National League’s miserable Boston Braves signed him. Barely able to pay their ballpark rent, the Braves would do anything to sell a few tickets. Ruth’s contract made him a player-coach and executive vice president, and he expected he would eventually get to manage.
The Streak Page 20