Of Course Gehrig Cared About Records

A neat essay about Lou Gehrig by Jonathan Eig in the New York Times:

Gehrig would also have understood Jeter’s reluctance to boast of his individual accomplishments. But like most professional athletes, Gehrig was a fierce competitor and understood that statistics were a reliable measure of his performance. In other words, he cared. A lot. As does Jeter, clearly. ... Although Gehrig was a sweetheart off the field, he was merciless on it. More than any other player in the team’s history, he set the standard for what it meant — and means — to be a Yankee.

He was not universally beloved. Some reporters found him dull. Children in the Bronx complained that he would sneak in and out of Yankee Stadium to avoid signing autographs. He almost never picked up a dinner tab or tipped a delivery boy. Even some of his teammates thought he could have been friendlier. (He invited only one Yankee, Bill Dickey, to his wedding.) But in most of the important ways, Gehrig was a class act. He never gloated. Never complained. Never criticized his teammates or managers. Never quit hustling.

...

Gehrig

was a line-drive hitter, while Ruth hit Roman candles that soared into the seats. Gehrig knew he was not likely to hit more homers than Ruth. Still, he was determined, year after year, to tally more runs batted in. He usually did. But the record that meant the most to Gehrig by far was his consecutive games streak. The streak was a monumental achievement that reminded fans of his durability and determination. Gehrig also cherished the streak because it set him in contrast to Ruth, who missed games for assorted physical afflictions, including bellyaches and hangovers. ... He nurtured the streak, too. Though he played at times with broken bones, fevers and stiff joints, he also extended the record in several instances by making short appearances in the first inning and riding the bench the rest of the afternoon. Before his illness, Gehrig said he hoped to keep the streak alive at least until it hit 2,500 games. When sportswriters challenged him, suggesting that he was hurting his team by refusing to take a day off, Gehrig flashed a rare bit of anger. He said he had all winter and the occasional rainout to rest. When management installed padded cushions on the wooden dugout bench at Yankee Stadium, he complained about that, too. Cushions were for the weak.

Jonathan Eig is credited at the end of the essay with having written “Luckiest Man: The Life and Death of Lou Gehrig” and “Opening Day: The Story of Jackie Robinson’s First Season.” I haven't read a tremendous amount about Lou Gehrig the human being.  Most of my thoughts about him are probably tied to the mythical legend that has been built around his name and career.  In contrast to the hard living Ruth, Gehrig is often portrayed as the soft spoken second banana, despite the fact that, if not for Ruth,

he

might have been the Babe Ruth of his era. That's not to say that Eig is portraying Gehrig in a wholly negative light.  Like most of us, Gehrig was a human being who naturally felt the pressure and glare of being a famous professional ballplayer. Time is forgiving though, and surprisingly, so were the sportswriters of that time.  A modern player who acted at times like Eig portrays Gehrig in this essay would probably draw the scorn of the sports-writing community. Think of pre-steroid Alex Rodriguez.  Most writers didn't seem to like ARod very much, despite the fact that he game them plenty of fodder to fill their pages with.  Only now, after his scandal, revamping of his public life, and basically limiting his press obligations has ARod come into any favor. These records were important to Gehrig, just as I assume Jeter's achievements are important to him.  Jeter thinks he's saying the right things by not focusing on his personal achievements.  Maybe he is. It's hard to believe, though, that a professional athlete could compete at the level of a Lou Gehrig or Derek Jeter without having goals.  In baseball, those goals mean statistics, and more than any other sport, personal statistics in baseball almost always help the team. Maybe Derek can take a little cue from the Iron Horse and his parents.  Stop and smell the records, Derek.  If it weren't for that record, you may not have four championship rings.