There are certain moments in baseball that are timeless and manage to span the generations.
Whether it is a classic call from a broadcaster who has long ago passed away, or the visuals of Hank Aaron rounding third after setting the record for home runs, the visuals and sounds of baseball stick in the memories of fans even if they were not alive when the actual events occurred.
In this way, generations of baseball fans are connected within the tapestry of the National Pastime as new thread is woven along side the old.
Such is the case with Lou Gehrig’s famous “the luckiest man on the face of the earth” speech given before a game between the New York Yankees and Washington Senators 75 years ago on July 4, 1939.
In the speech, Gehrig listed all of the positives of his life despite being diagnosed with a death sentence in the form of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or ALS.
ALS, now known as “Lou Gehrig’s Disease,” is a disease of the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord that control voluntary muscle movement.
There is no cure for ALS. While advancements in treatment have prolonged patient life, the disease is still considered a fatal diagnosis.
Growing up, I had heard the speech as part of a greatest moments in baseball VHS tape that I owned. While I had heard the speech, for me, as a Cal Ripken, Jr., fan Lou Gehrig was just the final man to pass in the consecutive games streak. I did not really appreciate the full impact of what made the speech so perfect at the time.
Before getting into the speech, it is important to look at the man who gave it.
Lou Gehrig played 2,130 games in a row for the New York Yankees until he was physically unable to play anymore. Lou Gehrig was also the first Major League Baseball player to have his number retired.
Lou Gehrig stepped up to a Yankee Stadium microphone on July 4, 1939, and told fans he was “the luckiest man on the face of the earth” despite the fact that he was dying from the inside out.
Throughout the speech, and through eyes welled up with tears, Gehrig thanked teammates, fans, and his family for all of the experiences they had shared together.
The text of the speech is as follows:
“Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth. I have been in ballparks for seventeen years and 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 wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles with her own daughter – that’s something. When you have a father and a mother who work all their lives so 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 I close in saying that I may have had a tough break, but I have an awful lot to live for.”
Nearly two years to the day after giving that speech, Lou Gehrig died on June 2, 1941 at the age of 37. His death came almost 16 years to the day after he started his consecutive games streak on June 1, 1925.
It would have been easy for someone like Lou Gehrig to be bitter for being cut down in the prime of his career by such an invasive and painful disease, but there is no bitterness in the speech.
Many fans at the time probably felt that it was not fair that they were losing their first baseman to an illness that many had likely never heard of.
Instead of being bitter in his circumstances, Lou Gehrig found the courage to be at peace with the hand he was dealt and to make the most of the time he had left.
I often wonder how many people when faced with the same circumstances would in the words of Monty Python, “always look on the bright side of life?”
In my own case, I would like to think that I would be able to muster the same positive response as Lou Gehrig. In reality, I would likely fall well short of that level of peace in my circumstances.
As for Lou Gehrig’s consecutive game streak, it was finally broken in 1995 by Cal Ripken, Jr. who extended it to 2,632 consecutive games played before finally taking a game off for the first time in his career on September 20, 1998.
I was taught in Journalism school and reminded by the first sports editor I worked under that one should avoid using the terms all-time record holder since records are made to be broken.
Therefore, I do not take it lightly when I say the at the consecutive games played streak first held by Lou Gehrig, and then broken by Cal Ripken, Jr., will likely never be broken.
The days of a player having the desire, and/or the physical strength to play that many days without a break have come and gone.
One the night that Ripken broke the streak, he showed that Lou Gehrig was very much there in spirit to share it with him.
“Tonight I stand here, overwhelmed, as my name is linked with the great and courageous Lou Gehrig,” Ripken said at the time. “I’m truly humbled to have our names spoken in the same breath.”
While Gehrig’s career was cut short, it was still a career that reaches through the generations as doctors and others work to find a cure for the disease that bears his name.
Lou Gehrig showed the world courage 75 years ago, and it is a lesson that is still reverberating all these years later.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a speech to listen to.
Copyright 2014 R. Anderson