The Bellyache Heard 'Round Stamford

 

Cubeta Stadium, Stamford.
Note the press box above the stands.

Babe Ruth had disappeared in 1925 and the speculation was rampant.

He had died.

Well, no, he had not, but he was not entirely well. He died in 1948.

He had collapsed in a North Carolina train station. There was talk he had influenza and that he would never play again.

Thus the speculation that he was dead, which hit headlines around Europe.

As was the style of the time a writer named W.O. McGeehan* said that The Babe had gotten sick from eating too many hot dogs and that eventually became known as "The Bellyache Heard 'Round the World."

While various theories persisted (such as one that Ruth had an STD), the truth is Ruth had an abscess as a result of consuming some bad hooch in the Prohibition 1920s.

*McGeehan briefly dabbled in broadcasting "calling" 1923 World Series for Westinghouse. He grew tired of it in the middle of Game 3 and Graham McNamee took over, beginning a legendary career that would make him the most famous radio voice in the land and eventually bring him a posthumous Ford Frick Award from the National Baseball Hall of Fame. To be clear, McNamee wasn't a particularly strong play-by-play announcer but he was our godfather for sure.

With that wild digression, I'm sorry to report that, for reasons unrelated to hot dogs, I did a 2.5-hour baseball broadcast tonight that did not require surgery. I was simply in pain in discomfort.

I'm fine now as these things have a way of working themselves out but it shows the level of detail and determination one must deal with when working in this business. The game will carry on regardless of how I feel.

I recall only one other time -- a hockey game at Brunswick -- when stomach cramps got me bad enough that I couldn't answer the bell to get on the air. I stepped away during the intermission and sheepishly returned when I felt better. I don't think I missed that much action but, as you know, I was upset about missing anything.

I missed nothing tonight though it made for a long game.

The first game was a little more standard fare. Good pitching, a few errors, and some hits. In the end, Fairfield Warde got a run in the sixth inning to beat Staples, 3-2.

In that elongated nightcap, Westhill had the answers to surprise Trumbull, 4-2. The game simply had lots of pickoff attempts, stepping out of the batter's box, pitching changes, mound visits, and so on. 

And no pitch clock.

A look inside the press box (I set up at the far end)

Oh, don't get me wrong, I was happy to be on the call from Stamford's Cubeta Stadium. The press box there had once become an after-hour party zone with numerous break-ins and a smell that Cheech and Chong would both adore.

Tonight, it was simply an empty press box with very limited seating when I walked in.

But the field? My God, you can eat off that turf. Seriously, the grass is meticulous. The guys there keep it in pristine shape.

So it was an absolute joy to call the game from there. However, the place isn't how it looked when it hosted two Babe Ruth World Series over 20 years ago. I'd love to see a series return because you know I'd make sure to have Robcasting ready to go.

I'll be back there on Wednesday night when Warde and Westhill meet for the second year in a row for the championship. The Mustangs of Warde are going for a threepeat.

Tomorrow? Part of the Greenwich Town Party. I fear my son might kill me.

Since I survived the stomach cramps.