The Iron Horse Finally Sits Down

On a sun-splashed February Florida morning, as a gentle breeze blew across the New York Yankees’ spring training practice field, Lou Gehrig closed his eyes and let the warm air wash over him. He had arrived in St. Petersburg determined to prove that his 1938 decline was just an aberration, that he could still wield a mighty bat and play first base with the skill and grace he had displayed during 14 glorious seasons in New York. 

The 35-year-old Gehrig had felt abnormally tired at the end of 1938, a year in which the Yankees won the World Series for the third year in a row despite a dramatic drop in Gehrig’s statistics. He batted .295 with 29 homers and 114 RBI, numbers most major leaguers were die for, but they represented his lowest batting average since 1925 which his first full season with the Yankees, his lowest home run total since 1928, and his lowest RBI count since 1926.

So he’d taken it easy during the off-season, resting his weary body more than he ever had, and he came south for the spring convinced that 1939 would be a bounce back season for him.

On this day he grabbed a couple bats, swished them back and forth to loosen his muscles, and when he felt sufficiently limber, he stepped into the batting cage to take his cuts with a knot of sports writers fixated on him. The first pitch came coasting in, grooved right down the middle, not more than 60 miles an hour, high school speed. Gehrig swung and missed. Here came the next offering, same spot, same speed. Gehrig swung and missed. On and on it went, painful for anyone to watch. Nineteen pitches were thrown and not once did Gehrig put his bat on the ball.

He finally held up his hand instructing the pitcher to stop throwing, and he walked dejectedly out of the cage, his gentle smile twisted into a confused grimace because he had no explanation for his struggles.

It didn’t get much better for Gehrig as the spring progressed. His timing was terribly off, he appeared unsteady in the field, and there were days when it looked like he was catching the ball only to protect himself from getting hit by it. On two occasions in the clubhouse Gehrig collapsed to the floor. One time he was trying to put on his pants and tumbled over, and when clubhouse man Pete Sheehy and teammate Joe DiMaggio offered to help him up, he embarrassingly said, “Please, I can get up.” Another time he climbed on top of a bench to look out the window, lost his balance and fell backward, landing hard on his rear end. He lay there for a moment, a puzzled look on his face as he wondered what was going on.

In the first 10 exhibition games Gehrig hit an abysmal .100, and when a writer asked him what was wrong, Gehrig uncharacteristically slammed his glove into his locker and shouted, “Why in hell don’t you leave me alone?” By the time the spring schedule was complete Gehrig’s average stood at .215, and among his 26 hits were 24 singles and two home runs that were both hit over a short right-field fence in Norfolk, Virginia when the team was barnstorming its way back up north. He had driven home a respectable 21 runs, but had also committed eight errors in the field.

“I don’t know” is all Yankee manager Joe McCarthy would say when asked what he thought was wrong with Gehrig. But McCarthy made one thing very clear: Gehrig was his starting first baseman until Gehrig told him he wasn’t.

On May 2, 1939, Gehrig told him he wasn’t, and there came to an end one of the most remarkable baseball achievements in history, one that many felt would never be surpassed, though it ultimately was about six decades later by Cal Ripken Jr. On May 2, Gehrig sat out the Yankees’ game in Detroit, ending his consecutive games played streak at 2,130 games.

In the first eight games of the regular season, Gehrig went hitless in five, and his batting average stood at .143. John Kieran wrote in the New York Times that Gehrig, “looked like a man trying to lift heavy trunks into a truck.” In the Sporting News, Dan Daniel quoted Gehrig as saying, “I have given my best to the club and the game and I deserve the chance to work out my current difficulties.”

However, he went 0-for-4 on Sunday, April 30, the Yankees lost 3-2 at home to the Washington Senators, and there was a play in the ninth inning, a routine fielding chance that Gehrig was barely able to make, which served as his final indignation. A ball was chopped between the mound and first base and relief pitcher Johnny Murphy fielded it, then had to wait for Gehrig to get to the bag and the batter nearly beat it out for a hit. Murphy sympathetically told Gehrig he’d made a nice play, and that’s when Gehrig knew it was time to take a seat, at least temporarily. While it looked as if the end was near for the great Gehrig, no one could have foreseen that he would never play another game, let alone fathom the news that would soon come.

The team traveled to Detroit on that Monday, and the next morning Gehrig huddled with McCarthy in the manager’s room at the team hotel and asked to be taken out of the lineup, “for the good of the team.” McCarthy balked at first, but he knew it was best for the Yankees, and more importantly, best for Gehrig.

Gehrig presented the Yankees lineup card to umpire Stephen Basil at home plate which showed Babe Dahlgren inserted into the eighth spot in the batting order and playing first base, and just before the first pitch was thrown, an announcement was made informing the sparse announced crowd of 11,379 at Briggs Stadium that Gehrig would not be playing. The Detroit fans, knowing what that meant, paid tribute to Gehrig by standing and applauding for nearly two minutes.

“I remember Lou taking the lineup card up to the plate that day,” Dahlgren recalled years later to the New York Times. “When he came back to the dugout he went over to the water fountain and took a drink. He started to cry. Lou stood there with a towel on his head, taking the longest drink I've ever seen anybody take. I hated to break his streak, but there was no special pressure. In fact, I almost hit four home runs the day I took his place. I hit one homer, a double off the fence, and two more balls were caught at the fence.”

Indeed, Dahlgren had a nice afternoon as he drove in two runs and also made two sharp plays at first base as the Yankees pummeled the Tigers 22-2. And it seemed almost appropriate that Dahlgren was the man to replace Gehrig because as a kid, Dahlgren had drawn pictures of Gehrig and Babe Ruth, his two baseball heroes. “I especially admired Gehrig because he was a first baseman like me,” Dahlgren said. “I never dreamed one day I'd be in New York to take the man's place.”

Certainly, this was not the way Dahlgren – who had made his major league debut in 1935 for the Boston Red Sox playing against Gehrig and the Yankee - wanted things to go, though. In fact, in each of the last three innings, Dahlgren approached Gehrig on the bench and suggested that he get into the game in order to keep his streak alive, and Gehrig declined each time.

After the game, no one was interested in the fact that every Yankee batter except Tommy Henrich had collected two hits, or that Henrich made up for that by scoring three runs and driving in three. No one paid heed to George Selkirk who had homered and driven in six runs, or that Red Ruffing had improved his record to 3-0 with a complete-game seven-hitter. All conversation was focused on Gehrig.

“It would not be fair to the boys, to Joe, or to the baseball public for me to try going on,” Gehrig said glumly to the reporters gathered around him. “Maybe a rest will do me some good. Maybe it won’t. Who knows? Who can tell? I’m just hoping. The consecutive games record always was meaningless to me, and now that I have ended it, you newspaper guys will believe me. I hope the arrival of warm weather will enable me to hit my stride.”

McCarthy, clearly upset by what had transpired, said, “Lou just told me he felt it would be best for the club if he took himself out of the lineup. I asked him if he really felt that way. He told me he was serious. He feels blue. He is dejected.”

Many in the Yankee family, and the media that covered the team, knew Gehrig had to be sick because, as DiMaggio said one day, “Ballplayers like Gehrig don’t collapse overnight.”

But no one was prepared for the news that would come six weeks later when Dr. Harold Harbein of the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota released a statement that solved the mystery of Gehrig’s physical malady. After a week of examinations at the renowned medical facility, Gehrig was found to be suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, an incurable form of paralysis that slowly destroys the central nervous system. Though a timetable was not put on his imminent death, research indicated that he would likely be gone within two years, no more than three.

Gehrig remained with the club throughout 1939, even when the team was on the road. He brought the lineup card out to home plate before every game, then sat on the bench lending his teammates moral support. It was definitely the best thing for his spirits to stay with the team, and he was able to witness a fourth consecutive World Series championship.

However, the most enduring moment of that season did not occur in any of those four games against the Cincinnati Reds that October; rather, on the afternoon of July 4, Gehrig – barely two weeks after being handed a veritable death certificate - delivered one of the most famous orations in American history as part of a tribute to celebrate his career.

Under a brilliant blue sky, in the grandest arena in America, a place where he had brought smiles to the faces of millions of fans and where he was now bringing such deep sorrow, Gehrig stood in the epicenter of this emotional earthquake and never flinched. Though his body was being ravaged by an insidious disease that even today has no cure, Gehrig hovered over the microphone stationed at home plate and displayed the same strength and reliability that allowed him to man first base for more than 14 years without missing a single game.

“Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break I got, yet today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for 17 years and I have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans. Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day?

Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert? Also, the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow? To have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins? Then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology, the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Sure, I’m lucky. When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice-versa, sends you a gift, that’s something.

When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies, that’s something. When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body, it’s a blessing. When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed, that’s the finest I know. So in closing I say that I might have had a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for. Thank you.”

An eerie silence enveloped the stadium as Gehrig spoke in a halted manner, allowing for the echoes to catch up to him. When he finished his speech there was a brief pause for reflection, almost as if the magnitude of the moment had to sink in before a tremendous, heartfelt ovation rained down on Gehrig. And as the crowd roared its thank you, Babe Ruth, always sensing the moment, came up to Gehrig and wrapped him in a hug, even though he and Lou hadn’t spoken to each other for about five years, their silence a product of a rather silly feud.

On the field were the ballplayers who formed a semi-circle around Gehrig, members of the current Yankee club and a collection of his former teammates, some of the greatest names in baseball history, trying to hide their sadness by bowing their heads. Most poignant were the looks on the faces of the children in the jam-packed stands, unaware of what was happening, unable to understand why tears were flowing down the cheeks of their fathers and mothers.

Years after Gehrig’s death on June 2, 1941, the great sports columnist Jim Murray wrote of him, “He was a symbol of indestructibility - a Gibraltar in cleats.” And for all those years in a Yankee uniform, that’s exactly what he was, the most rugged, bullet-proof Iron Horse the game had ever known. All of which made his death at the age of 38 so difficult to process.

➤ Hey, it looks like we won’t have to listen to Carlos Beltran anymore on the YES broadcasts. Jon Heyman of the New York Post reported that Beltram is taking a front office position with the Mets, the team he was supposed to manage in 2020 before the sign stealing cheating scandal out of Houston was exposed, with Beltran proven to be one of the ringleaders. After that story broke, Beltran resigned before ever managing a game.

Beltran was awful as a game analyst, and he wasn’t much better when YES moved him into the studio late in the year. I usually don’t care who is broadcasting a game, but he was so bad, it was irritating. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard an analyst say less useful things than Beltran.

➤ Chad Green signed a two-year deal with the Blue Jays worth $8.5 million, and the contract also reportedly includes options for 2025 and 2026. Of course, Greene underwent Tommy John surgery last June so he won’t be pitching for Toronto for most of the season, but the Jays obviously saw enough of Green in New York to know that if he’s healthy and sharp, he can be very effective.

We all remember some of the ill-timed home runs Green had a habit of giving up, but he usually pitched well for the Yankees. Across parts of seven seasons and 272 games hent 33-22 with a 3.17 ERA and 11 saves.

➤ Brian Cashman denied Luis Severino permission to pitch for the Dominican Republic in the upcoming World Baseball Classic which will be taking place during spring training. I’m sure Severino isn’t thrilled, but it was absolutely the right call by Cashman. The last thing the Yankees need is the super fragile Severino having to ramp up his pitching program to be able to go full bore in the WBC and then get hurt which, as we all know, is a distinct possibility with Severino. Sorry, but the first priority has to be the Yankees.

“We support our players going (to the WBC), but when certain players, like Luis Severino, who’ve had an injury history the last few years … that’s not in our best interest,’’ Cashman said during a radio appearance in Chicago. “Having him pitch competitive, championship-contending World Baseball Classic innings in March versus preparatory innings (during spring training) in March for a long-haul season, it’s a decision I had to make, and I’m very comfortable making it.”

On the flip side, Nestor Cortes is being allowed to pitch for Team USA, but of course Cortes doesn’t have the injury history that Severino does. Still, I would prefer that no Yankee pitchers participate. Position players, fine, but not pitchers. He’s the only Yankee in the tournament.