Babe Ruth’s Ghost

How the Curse Really Ended

by 

Fred Cooprider

Babe Ruth’s Ghost

 Copyright 2001  

by 

Fred Cooprider

All Rights Reserved

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Cast of Characters

(In order of appearance.)

PEANUT VENDOR: Female, Boston native, 20’s or 30’s, working class, avid Red Sox fan.  Friendly, animated, may need to ad lib some lines, but always good-natured, not sarcastic.  Boston accent optional.

BABE RUTH: Act I, Scene 2, early in his career.  After that, late in his career, about 40, showing his age but still athletic.  I would suggest affecting and change through makeup or acting, not using two different actors.  There are some videotapes of Babe Ruth available, and whoever plays this role should study his mannerisms.  

THE DEVIL: Early to mid thirties, suave, well spoken and well dressed.  

SAMANTHA COLLINS: About 12 or 13 years of age, energetic, mischievous, and a confirmed Red Sox fan and believer.

BILL COLLINS: Early to mid thirties, good-natured.  Always calm and patient.

NICK LANDIS: Early to mid thirties.  The same actor who plays the Devil can play this character.  If not the same actor, he should be close in manner and style.

MARY COLLINS: Early to mid thirties, intelligent, slightly world weary from some difficult blows in life.

RIGHT FIELDER: Male, twenties, able to catch a baseball.

Stage

The entire play takes place in Fenway Park, Boston, Massachusetts, except for Act I, Scene 4 at Yankee Stadium, but this requires no scene change.  The audience is seated at Fenway, with some seats placed stage right.  This is the section of Fenway where the right field foul line touches the seats, and there should be a low fence in front of the seats.  The stage is bare, and carpet turf and paint can be used to affect the field, foul line, and warning track.  This is Fenway.  Use as much green paint as you can. 

Props list

Stage: Construct the stage to look as much like Fenway Park as possible.  The Citgo sign over the Green Monster is easy to duplicate.  Put up the scoreboard and advertising signs as allowable by your setting.  A partial green wall may represent the Green Monster.  Use as much green paint as you can.  During scenes when the Peanut Vendor talks to the audience, or the baseball game scenes, the audience as well as the stage should be lit.  The only furniture on stage is a simple bench that is used by the actors, but should be on the warning track and pushed against the wall during the baseball scenes.

Act I, Scene 1: A peanut box with shoulder strap and a few bags of peanuts.

Act I, Scene 2: A whiskey bottle or flask, a bag of baseballs, and a bat.  A contract and fountain pen.

Act I, Scene 4: During the blackout, set casket on stage, opened away from the audience, and covered with flowers.  The contract.

Act I, Scene 5: The peanut vendor box and a few bags of peanuts.  Backpack and mitt.  A baseball that is rolled onto the stage.

Act I, Scene 6: Bag of baseballs, Babe’s mitt and bat, and a cigar.  Sam’s mitt and bat.

Act I, Scene 7: Cell phone and money clip.  Peanut vendor box and a few bags of peanuts.  Sam’s mitt.  Three drinks.

Act II, Scene 1: Sam’s mitt.

Act II, Scene 2: Sewing needle and thread, a coat or shirt to be mended, cigar.  Sam’s mitt.

Act II, Scene 3: Bill’s mitt and baseball.  Sam’s bat and bubble gum.  Bag of baseballs.

Act II, Scene 4: Hot dog.  Peanut Vendor’s box and a bag of peanuts.  Sam’s mitt.

Act II, Scene 5: Preset the stage with a bag of baseballs and Sam’s bat.  Bill’s mitt and baseball.  Backpack.  Sunglasses and pina colada.

Time

The Peanut Vendor enters in modern dress, but she tells the story of what happened in 1919 and in 1948.  When Sam enters and the play’s story begins, it is opening day of the 2004 baseball season at Fenway Park.

A NOTE ABOUT PEANUTS: When writing this play I thought the sale of peanuts in the shell was a clever way to develop the ballpark atmosphere in a theater.  I still think that, but I know this may be a cause of consternation for some theaters for two reasons: noise and mess.  May I suggest,  (1) small bags, (2) limit the sales during the play to a few bags, and (3) if you must, packages of shelled peanuts and change a few of the Peanut Vendor’s lines as needed.  

Costumes

Peanut Vendor: Causal dress.  Tennis shoes, jeans, T-shirt.  She wears her favorite Red Sox hat that does not change during all of her scenes.  Act I, Scenes 1, 3, and 5 no costume change.  She can change for any of the other scenes, but the same casual look throughout.

Babe Ruth: Act I, Scene 2 nicely dressed, but unkempt.  Shirt half untucked, tie undone.  Act I, Scene 4, nicely dressed in an overcoat.  Act I, Scene 5 and thereafter, casual dress.  Dark trousers, leather shoes, suspenders, white shirt, cloth cap.  Babe Ruth wore the soft cloth caps popular in the 30’s.  You can look up some old pictures to get ideas.  No costume changes after Act I, Scene 5.

Samantha: Act I, Scene 5, jeans and T-shirt, but nice enough for school.  Also a favorite Red Sox hat that does not change throughout the play.  Act I, Scene 6, casual and suitable for batting practice.  Act I, Scene 7, casual but a bit nicer.  No change for Act II, Scenes 1 and 2.   Act II, Scene 3, suitable for batting practice.  Act II, Scene 4, nice casual.  Act II, Scene 5, school dress.  She is never without her Red Sox hat.

Bill Collins: Nice casual contemporary.  Perhaps slacks and polo shirt.  His costume never changes, except that in Act II, Scene 3, Bill has a Red Sox hat that he is not without for the remainder of the play.  This should be a professional quality baseball hat.

Nick Landis: Act I, Scene 7, business suit as he has just come from work.  He may remove or loosen his tie once he is at the ballpark.  Act II, Scene 4, nice casual.  He has expensive tastes.

Mary Collins: She should be nicely dressed, but modest.  Should be a different costume for each scene, except Act I, Scene 7 and Act II, Scene 1 no change.  

Right Fielder: A Boston Red Sox uniform.  This actor does not need to look like any Red Sox player present or past, but he does need to look like he knows what to do with a baseball.

Act I, Scene 1

(The lights come up on Fenway Park.  Stage right is a section of seats where the first base foul line touches the right field seats.  Audience members can be seated here, but the three seats closest to the fence are reserved, to be used by actors later in the play.  As the lights come up the Peanut Vendor’s voice is heard from behind the audience.  She enters from an aisle in the theater, not from the stage.)

PEANUT VENDOR: Peanuts, get yer peanuts!  Right here!  Fresh roasted peanuts, get yer peanuts!  (The next few lines may need to be ad libbed, depending on the audience.  The peanuts really are for sale.  They should be repackaged into small bags printed in an old fashioned style.  If no audience member offers to  buy a bag, the following dialog should be used.)  What, I can’t make a sale?  I got 1919 prices here, just five cents a bag, one buffalo nickel.  You came out to the ballpark on this beautiful day, and you’re not gonna eat nothing?  (By now a sale should be made. You may want to plant a few shills with nickels just to get things started.  Whenever a sale is made, the  following dialog starts.)  O.K.  Here ya go.  When you shell the peanuts, just throw the hulls on the floor.  My cousin Charlie sweeps up after the games.  He’s working his way through reform school.  Besides, you ain’t at no theater, you’re at a ballpark! (Lights come up to illuminate the entire theater.  At some point an audience member may be too far to reach.  The Peanut Vendor then says) can you catch?  I’ll toss you the bag, but you pass the nickel down to me.  Otherwise, I’m down on my knees looking for nickels all night.  O.K.?  Here it comes.  (The Peanut Vendor should only have about three or four bags, or the play may dissolve into a peanut party.  If all the peanuts sell, she shows the empty box to the audience.)  Sorry, I’m all out.  I’ll be back in the later innings if I didn’t get ya this time.  You know, I live in the greatest city in the world… Boston, Massachusetts.  I love this town.  The people are the best, the neighborhoods are like nowhere else, and there’s always something to do, the excitement of the Boston Marathon, or a quiet walk on the esplanade by the Charles River.  And I work at the greatest ballpark in the world, Fenway Park.  Fenway was built in 1911 on a mud flat called “The Fens”.  It opened in 1912 and has been home to the Boston Red Sox ever since.  That 37 foot high fence in left field is lovingly called “The Green Monster.”  Visiting left fielders think of it as “The Green Nightmare,” because there is no telling how a ball is going to bounce off the scoreboard that’s attached to it.  Some say that it was built to make home runs to left field more difficult.  That ain’t so.  In 1912 the game was played with a softer ball and most players couldn’t hit it any where near the fence.  The truth is the cheapskate owners built it to keep out non-paying fans.  And the best part of my job?  I get to watch the greatest ball team in the world, the Boston Red Sox…  That’s right, you heard me, the Boston Red Sox, the greatest team ever…  so we’ve been in a little slump lately.  Even great teams have slumps.  Hey, any team can have a bad century.  The Sox’ll break out of it…next year…maybe…  O.K., so we haven’t won a World Series since 1918.  Big deal!  We used to win ‘em.  You wanna know something?  The Red Sox won the very first World Series in 1903.  And we would’ve won the 1904 World Series, but the New York Giants got their snooty New York noses bent out of joint and refused to play.  But we beat those same snooty nosed New York Giants in the 1912 World Series.  And we won the Series in 1915, in 1916, and in 1918.  So there!  What do you think of that?  We’re just in a slump.  That’s all.  We’re gonna win…sure we are…some day… I keep hoping… I have to hope… I’m a Red Sox fan… That’s all I have, hope… (begins to cry)  Ahhh, Boston, you keep breaking my heart.  You keep coming so close and then…  I didn’t want to be a Red Sox fan.  Honest.  I swear on my mother’s grave!  I can’t help it.  I was born in Boston.  It’s in my blood.  I got no choice.  It’s like having freckles, or being left-handed.  It’s my fate.  I try to accept it…  And I love ‘em, I really do.  The Sox have had all those great players.  Jimmie Foxx, Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski, Jim Rice, Fred Lynn.  And those great pitchers, Cy Young, Smokey Joe Wood, Lefty Grove, Babe Ruth…  Yeah, you heard right.  Babe Ruth.  The Bambino, The Sultan of Swat.  Oh sure, you remember him as a Yankee (spits) slugger.  But before he played for the… (makes a face, can’t say the word) the Babe was a Red Sox.  He started his major league career with Boston in 1914 as a 20-year-old pitcher.  And he was no slouch.  In 1916 he had the league’s lowest E.R.A., 1.75.  In the 1916 and ‘18 World Series, he pitched 29 consecutive shut out innings, a major league record.  Babe Ruth was so good at pitching and hitting, they didn’t know where to use him.  By 1919, (removes hat) his last year as a Red Sox, (puts hat back on) he was playing more outfield than pitching, and he hit 29 home runs that season, a record!  The old record was 27 home runs.  Babe went on to break his own record three times, with seasons of 54, 59, and 60 home runs, when he was a… (spits)  Yankee.  You see, 1919 was a dark time for the Boston Red Sox.  The team was owned by a man named Harry Frazee, a Broadway producer.  A Broadway producer!  A man who knowingly associated with (shudders) actors!  A couple of his plays were flops and he needed money real bad.  So Harry Frazee did the unthinkable, the unimaginable… on the worst day in the history of the Boston Red Sox, he sold Babe Ruth to the … (spits)  YANKEES!

Act I, Scene 2

The stage lights dim.  Babe enters stage left in street clothes, carrying a bat, and a bag of baseballs.  He has a flask or a half pint of whiskey in his pocket.  He is drunk.  He mimes hitting fungos with a sound effect crack of the bat.  He sings as he enters.

BABE: Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowd, don’t sell me to the Yankees, I don’t like you, Harry Frazee… Harry Frazee, you’re a bum!  You’re a tinhorn, (hit)  Broadway, (hit)  fancy pants, (hit) BUM!  My home is in Boston.  The fans love me here.  They love me more than they love you, you heartless money-grubbing dandy.  And I’ve won the World Series for ya!  And you sell me to the… the… YANKEES?  The Yankees have never even won a pennant!  Sold by a bum to a bunch of bums… The Devil take you Harry Frazee!  You and your Boston Red Sox!  (Thunder and lightning.  The Devil enters from stage left.)

DEVIL: You sir, seem to be bearing some type of grudge.

BABE: Who wants to know?  (Ignoring the Devil, hits another fungo.)

DEVIL: You should know who I am.  You summoned me.  You called my name.

BABE: Harry Frazee, is that you? 

DEVIL: No, I am not Harry Frazee…  I am the Devil.

BABE: (Takes a drink.)  What’s the difference?

DEVIL: I have more influence than Mr. Frazee.  I can obtain for you whatever you desire.

BABE: Yeah?  Well I don’t desire nothing so go peddle your papers somewhere else.

DEVIL: Surely you want something.  Everybody wants something.

BABE: Well not me.  I can hit a baseball a mile.  I can throw a baseball like a hurricane.  I love playing the game.  And I’m drunk.  What more could I want?

DEVIL: Apparently you have a score to settle with a Mr. Frazee and his Red Sox.

BABE: Oh yeah.  I’d like to fix his…  Can you help me with that?

DEVIL: Perhaps.

BABE: What’s in it for you?  What do you get?

DEVIL: Oh, the usual.  It’s our standard form contract.  (Pulls out a fountain pen and a four page contract and begins to read.)  Memorandum of agreement by and between the Devil, party of the first part, and (writes Babe Ruth’s name in the contract) Babe Ruth, party of the second part.  Whereas, the party of the second part by form of assignment of contract….yadda, yadda… fine print, fine print… details, details… really not important, just technicalities… the party of the first part, that would be me, shall grant one wish and in exchange shall receive from the party of the second part, that would be you, his eternal soul. (Lightning and thunder.  Hands Babe a fountain pen.)  Just sign right here and I will grant for you any wish you can imagine.

BABE: Not so fast.  I’ve seen owners like you.  Always trying to rush the deal.  (Takes the contract and reads.)  This ain’t no ordinary soul you’re getting.  This is Babe Ruth.

DEVIL: Oh yes.  I know that.  We’ve heard of you.

BABE: You have?

DEVIL: Oh my yes. We have quite a few sportswriters.  They keep in touch.  You hit 29 home runs last year.

BABE: That’s right!  More than any man has ever hit in one year!

DEVIL: How would you like to hit even more?

BABE: Don’t worry.  I’ll hit more.

DEVIL: Then pick anything you want.  Fame, money, power, or the destruction of an enemy.  Pick any wish, I’ll grant it and we have a deal.  (Holds up the pen.)

BABE: I’m Babe Ruth.  I want five wishes.

DEVIL: Oh no.  Out of the question, unheard of.  The standard offer is one wish.  It’s the times you know.  Souls are very cheap these days.  Why, the other day I obtained a man’s soul for just one night with his secretary.  A woman’s soul for winning out over a rival.  Another man for some gold coin.  No, the usual deal is one wish.  Avarice, envy, lust, revenge, take your pick, but only one wish.

BABE: Then I’ll make you a deal.  (Babe pulls a baseball out of the bag.)  You pitch me one pitch. You put this baseball over the plate, and if I hit it into the bleachers, I get five wishes.

DEVIL: I throw you one pitch?

BABE: It has to be a strike.

DEVIL: And if you hit my pitch you get five wishes?

BABE: Yep.

DEVIL: And if you miss…

BABE: You get my soul for free.

DEVIL: Oh, this is going to be fun!  

BABE: Hey Devil, even I can’t hit in the dark.  How about some light?

DEVIL: (With a motion of his hand the lights come up.)  So you think you can hit my fastball?  Are you sure you know who I really am?

BABE: It don’t matter who you are.  I know who I am.  I’m Babe Ruth!

DEVIL: Arrogant!  Oh, I like that.  Prepare yourself.  As you may know, I am somewhat of an expert on… heat.

BABE: Just put it over the plate.

DEVIL: (The Devil winds up and mimes throwing a baseball.  Sound effect crack of the bat as Babe swings.  The Devil turns and watches the ball sail to the bleachers.)  Well, I’ll be damned!

BABE: (Laughs.)  I thought you already were.

DEVIL: What do you find so amusing?

BABE: You!  The look on your face when I parked your best pitch in the bleachers.

DEVIL: I do not like being laughed at.  (Motions with his hand and the lights go down.)

BABE: The way you pitch you better get used to it.  (Laughs some more.  Lightning.)  Now, for my wishes.  I wanna have all the women, booze, and cigars I want and still play great baseball.

DEVIL: Granted.

BABE: I wanna put records in the book that no one else will ever touch!  I wanna hit… 700 career home runs.

DEVIL: 700?

BABE: You’re right.  Too round a number.  I started playing for Boston in 1914.  Make that 714 home runs.  And I wanna hit… 60 home runs in one season.

DEVIL: Let’s be reasonable.  You just set the record with 29.  How about… 40 home runs?

BABE: 60!  And I want… I want… I want everyone to love me.

DEVIL: Sorry.  Love is more God’s line of work.  I’m not sure I can…

BABE: Then I want everyone to worship me… envy me… think I’m the greatest.

DEVIL: Oh, mindless adulation.  I can do that…  You have one more wish.

BABE: I can’t think of anything else…

DEVIL: What about Mr. Frazee and his Red Sox?

BABE: Oh yeah.  I want the Red Sox to never, ever, ever win another World Series!  (Thunder and lightning, blackout.)

CURTAIN

Act I, Scene 3

(As the lights come up, the Peanut Vendor enters.)

PEANUT VENDOR: So, that was the start of “The Curse of the Bambino.”  The Red Sox haven’t won a World Series since.  They’ve come close, oh so close, but it always rolls off the tips of their fingers, or between the legs of first baseman Bill Buckner in the ’86 Series, or goes up like a puff of smoke, or like a Carl Yastrzemski pop up that ended the ‘78 play off game against the (spits) Yankees.  But the Sox don’t just lose.  Oh no… they tear your heart out!  In game 6 of the ‘75 World Series, Red Sox fans enjoyed the ecstasy of a Carlton Fisk game winning home run that stayed just fair over the Green Monster.  (Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus on the organ.  The Peanut Vendor looks up.) Thank you…  Only to suffer the agony of a seventh game defeat to the Cincinnati Reds, that just seemed to slip out of reach.  (Organ dirge.) But I’m getting ahead of the story.  Remember Babe broke the old home run record of 27 by hitting 29 for Boston?  Well, his first year in New York, he doubled the old record by hitting 54 home runs.  That would be like Barry Bonds hitting 73 home runs, and then hitting 140 the next year.  People came out by the thousands to see the Bambino.  New York loved him.  The nation loved him.  The world loved him!  When he toured in Japan, the Japanese fans packed the stadiums.  Babe once said, “I swing big with everything I’ve got.  I hit big or I miss big.  I like to live as big as I can.”  And he did live big.  It was the roaring twenties, and Babe Ruth roared louder than anybody.  Jimmie Reese was asked, what’s it like to room with Babe Ruth.  He answered, “I don’t know.  I don’t room with Babe Ruth.  I share a room with his suitcase.”  For the Babe, every night was a party.  Oh, he lived big, but he played big too.  In the first game played in brand new Yankee Stadium, he hit the first home run.  In the first ever All Star game, he hit the first home run.  In his last World Series he pointed to the center field bleachers, and then hit the ball over the fence.  He would visit kids in hospitals, promise them home runs, and then deliver.  And in 1936 the first five players elected to the Hall of Fame were Ty Cobb, Honus Wagner, Christy Mathewson, Walter Johnson, and Babe Ruth.  His career actually ended here in Boston, where it began.  In 1935 the Yankees released their 41 year-old star, and the Babe signed with the National League Boston Braves.  They had promised him a chance to be manager, something he wanted to do more than anything else.  Most owners remembered his wild and reckless days and they wouldn’t take a chance on him.  Jacob Ruppert, the owner of the Yankees, told Babe in his German accent, “Root, you cannot even manage yourself, how can you manage a ball club?”  The Braves’ promise was empty.  They were never going to let Babe manage, they just wanted him to draw in the fans.  His legs were tired and old, most of the time he couldn’t play a complete game.  But on one glorious day in May at old Forbes Field against the Pittsburgh Pirates, the Bambino showed ‘em he still had that magic.  Now Forbes Field was a pitcher’s park.  It had an outfield about the size of Rhode Island.  But on that day Babe hit career home runs number 712 (sound of a bat) number 713 (sound of a bat) and number 714 (slightly louder sound of a bat).  The last one went over the right field roof and out of the park, the first ball ever hit over that roof.  Five days later he resigned.  He never played another game of professional baseball.  He traveled, he made celebrity appearances, and he supported charities for youth, something he’d done his entire career.  His health began to fail in 1946, and on August 16, 1948 Babe died of throat cancer.  He left behind his second wife, Claire Hodgson Ruth, and two adopted daughters, Dorothy and Julia.  For two days his body lay in state at the main entrance to Yankee Stadium, “The House that Ruth Built.”  Hundreds of thousands of people came to pay their last respects.  (Lights fade.)      

Act I, Scene 4

(The lights are dim.  There is a coffin center stage.  The Babe and the Devil are two mourners, walking slowly by the coffin.  Babe has a soft cap pulled over his eyes, and the Devil is wearing a fedora.  Babe does not recognize the Devil.)

DEVIL: You sir, coming to pay tribute to the great Yankee slugger?

BABE: Yeah.

DEVIL: Did you ever see him play?

BABE: Oh yeah.  I followed his whole career.

DEVIL: So did I… So did I…  Although, mostly, I was just waiting for it to be over.

BABE: That’s a nutty thing to say.

DEVIL: Oh, no offense.  Nothing personal.  It’s strictly business.

BABE: What do you mean by that?

DEVIL: (Revealing himself and pulling out the contract.)  I think you know, Mr. Ruth.  We have a contract and payment is due.

BABE: Who are you?

DEVIL: You don’t remember?  This is your signature, isn’t it?

BABE: (Looks at it.)  Was I drunk when I signed it?

DEVIL: Probably.  You were drunk most of the time you were in Boston. 

BABE: Boston?… I’d just been sold to New York and I was pretty sore… I got drunk and went to Fenway…

DEVIL: Let me help you remember.  (Thunder.  The coffin is removed.  The Devil shoves Babe to the ground.)

BABE: Where are we?

DEVIL: You don’t recognize your old home?

BABE: Fenway?

DEVIL: And now it is your new home… FOREVER!

BABE: What do you mean?

DEVIL: “The Curse of the Bambino.”  You put the hex on the Red Sox, you get to carry it out.  You are doomed to haunt Fenway Park and prevent the Red Sox from ever winning a World Series!

BABE: Hey, I ain’t never fixed no baseball game, and I ain’t gonna start now.

DEVIL: SILENCE!  (LOUD thunder and lightning.  With a hand gesture the Devil causes Babe to kneel in pain.)  You may have been the great Babe Ruth when you were alive, but now you are just an under contract second stringer.  And if you try to break your contract, I will send you to a farm club that will be hotter than any Florida league team you ever played on.  Enjoy your new career.  (Exits laughing.)

CURTAIN

Act I, Scene 5

(Lights come, April 9, 2004, opening day for the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park.)

PEANUT VENDOR: (Enters from behind the audience.)  Peanuts, get yer peanuts.  Right here.  Get yer peanuts. 

ANNOUNCER: Welcome to friendly Fenway Park and to opening day for the 2004 baseball season.  And welcome to the visiting Toronto Blue Jays.  

PEANUT VENDOR: Peanuts, just 50 cents a bag.  Peanuts!  (To the audience.)   Hey, it’s 2004.  Smaller bags and higher prices.  What can I tell ya?  Baseball ain’t what it used to be.  Peanuts.  Get yer peanuts. (Makes sales to those in audience who want peanuts.  Again only a few bags.  Sam enters from behind the audience.  About 13 years old.  T-shirt, jeans, backpack, and a mitt.  It’s opening day and she is happy.)  Hey, Sam, how are ya?  I haven’t seen ya since last September.

SAM: How am I?  It’s opening day, and I’m at Fenway.  I couldn’t be better!

PEANUT VENDOR: You’re here kinda early.

SAM: I like to watch ‘em take batting practice.  And I brought my mitt.  If one gets hit to me, I’ll take home a souvenir. 

PEANUT VENDOR: Feeling lucky, huh?

SAM: You bet.  Me and the Red Sox.  I think this is the year the Sox do it.

PEANUT VENDOR: You think so? 

SAM: We should have done it last year.   Aaron Boone and his déjà vu Bucky Dent home run.   But we got everyone healthy and we picked up Curt Schilling.  This is our year.  (Has her mitt on and hits the pocket.)  If I take home a baseball, it’ll be a sign.

PEANUT VENDOR: I like the way you think.

SAM: Do you like it well enough for a free bag of peanuts?  I’m broke.

PEANUT VENDOR: You know I can’t do that.

SAM: Aw come on, I’ll help Charlie sweep up after the game today.  He’ll cover it.

PEANUT VENDOR: Charlie’s a stiff.  He already owes me ten bucks.

SAM: He’ll pay ya for me.

PEANUT VENDOR: Right.  And they’re gonna put up a statue of Harry Frazee in the Commons…  Hey, this is Friday.  Ain’t you supposed to be in school?

SAM: Nah.  They let me out early today.

PEANUT VENDOR: They let you out early?

SAM: Yeah.   It’s called… lunch recess.  Technically I’m on my lunch break.  That’s why I need the peanuts.

PEANUT VENDOR: Nice try.  Maybe next time.

SAM: O.K.  See ya!  (Walks toward her seat.)

PEANUT VENDOR: (To audience.)  Nice kid…  Hey Sam!  Catch!  (Throws her a bag.)

SAM: Thanks.

PEANUT VENDOR: (To audience.)  Sam comes to most home games.  She always sits in the same spot, in the seats by the right field foul line.  She’s a real Red Sox fan.  So full of hope.  And she’s so… young.  It’s kinda sad.  (Begins to choke up.  Takes out a hanky to blow her nose.  Weakly.)  Peanuts, get yer peanuts.  (Exits.)

ANNOUNCER: And now, the Boston Red Sox take batting practice.

SAM: Come on.  Hit me one over here.  I’m ready.  (Babe, dressed in slightly shabby clothes and a soft cap, enters to upstage center.  We hear the crack of a bat, and a ball rolls toward Sam.  She leans over the fence to field the ball.)  All right!  I got it!  I got it!  (Babe fields it.)  I don’t got it.  I don’t got it.  Hey you,  Groundskeeper.  That was mine.  (Babe turns toward Sam.)  Yeah, you chubby.  You robbed me.

BABE: You think you could’ve fielded it?

SAM: (Hits her mitt.)  What, because I’m a girl you think I can’t use this?

BABE: Here it comes.  (Throws ball to Sam.)  Nice catch.

SAM: Yeah.  And I could have fielded it the first time, if you’d let it go.  

BABE: I’m sure you coulda.  You got a good glove on ya.

SAM: Thanks…  for the ball.

BABE: Don’t mention it, kid.

SAM: I’m sorry I called you chubby.

BABE: I’ve been called worse.  You always come early to watch batting practice?

SAM: Yeah.  I try to pick up some pointers.

BABE: Good glove.  How’s your bat?

SAM: Not so good.

BABE: Why don’t you have your pop teach ya?

SAM: He can’t.

BABE: What?  Is he too busy?  Or too lazy?

SAM: Neither.

BABE: Then what is it?

SAM: (Pause.)  He’s dead.

BABE: Aw, geez.  I got a big mouth kid.  I’m sorry.

SAM: It’s O.K.

BABE: How did he…

SAM: Car wreck.

BABE: I feel really bad.  That was a stupid thing I said.

SAM: You didn’t know.  (Awkward silence.)

BABE: All kids should have someone to teach ‘em baseball.

SAM: Who taught you?

BABE: When I was a kid my pop was always too busy running his saloon to teach me baseball.  So I hung out on the streets and I learned to throw by chucking apples at the truck drivers on the Baltimore waterfront.

SAM: So how did you learn to hit?

BABE: When I was seven my folks put me in St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys.  It was kinda an orphanage and a reform school.  I wasn’t no orphan, so I guess I was more in the “reform” category.  I’m not sure it took.  I used to get into a lot of trouble.  But there was a man at St. Mary’s who had more patience and kindness than anyone I’d ever met, Brother Matthias.  He could hit a baseball farther with one hand than most men can with two.  He taught me to play.  So I made a promise when I left St. Mary’s.  Whenever I could, I’d help any kid who needed it, just like Brother Matthias helped me.  So… tomorrow’s a night game.  If you come a little early I could throw you some batting practice pitches.

SAM: You mean it?  Here?  At Fenway?  Really?

BABE: Sure.  Why not?

ANNOUNCER:  And now our national anthem.  (Sam stands.  Babe reaches over and takes off Sam’s hat as we hear the opening of the Star Spangled Banner.)

CURTAIN

Act I, Scene 6

(The lights come up on Babe, asleep on a bench that is near the fence.  Sam enters  carrying a bat, and glove.  She shakes Babe’s foot to wake him.)

BABE: (Still asleep.)  Strike!  What do you mean strike?  You wall eyed son of a baboon, I ought to bop you on the beezer.  (Sam shakes his foot again.)  Out of the game!  You can’t throw me out of the game, I’m… (Babe wakes and sees Sam.)  Oh… it’s you.  Hi ya, kid.

SAM: Hi.

BABE: Did I scare ya?

SAM: A little.  Were you dreaming?

BABE: Yeah, a bad dream.  The same nightmare I always have with the same wall eyed umpire. You’d think just once he’d get that call right.  What time is it?

SAM: 8 o’clock.

BABE: 8 o’clock!  I said come a little early.  The only time I was ever up at 8 o’clock was when I hadn’t gone to bed yet.

SAM: I can go.

BABE: No, no.  You’re here, you might as well stay.  Just give me a minute to wake up.  How’d you get in?

SAM: Low spot under the fence.  It’s not very big, so I figure I can use it another six months, maybe a year. 

BABE: I like you kid.  What’s your name?

SAM: Samantha Collins.  People call me Sam.  What’s yours?

BABE: Herman.  George Herman.  People call me Jidge.  (Offers his hand.)  

Pleased you meet you, Sam.

SAM: Pleased to meet you, Jidge.

BABE: I see you brought your gear.

SAM: Can you pitch me some batting practice like you said?

BABE: You’re awful eager.  Let’s warm up first.  Can you catch?

SAM: I thought I showed you yesterday.

BABE: Oh, yeah.  (They begin to toss the ball.)  Not bad.  You got a good arm.  Can you field grounders?

SAM: Shortstop is my position.

BABE: Let’s see.  (Throws a soft grounder.)

SAM: Garciaparra fields a hot grounder, rifles the ball to first, the runner is out.  Red Sox win!  The crowd goes wild!

BABE: Not bad, Nomar.  Who taught you how to use the glove?

SAM: My dad.  He used to play triple A ball for the Red Sox farm team.

BABE: Let me guess.  Shortstop?

SAM: Yeah.

BABE: Did he ever get called up?

SAM: (Not enthusiastic.)  Yeah, one time.

BABE: Good glove, no bat?

SAM: Yeah.  He went back down after three weeks.  But he kept working, he kept hoping.  He never quit.  He might have gotten another break, but…  Look, do I get to hit batting practice or not?

BABE: Sure kid.  I got a bucket of baseballs right here.  Step in there and let’s see what you got.  (Sam goes through elaborate preparations, adjusts her pants, her hat, spits on her hands and rubs it on her pants, digs in.  Babe just watches.)  You need more time to get ready?

SAM: Just put it over the plate.

BABE: O.K. slugger.  Here it comes.  

SAM: (Babe mimes a soft pitch.  Sam misses and quickly sets up again.)  Gimme another.  Gimme another.  (Another pitch, another miss.)  Lucky pitch.  Do it again.  (Another pitch, another miss.)  Can’t you throw a little slower?  How can I hit your fastball?

BABE: Kid, if I was throwing it any slower, I’d be carrying it to you.

SAM: (Drops the bat and walks over to the bench.)  I hate baseball.  It’s a stupid game.

BABE: (Sits next to Sam.)  Aw, don’t say that kid.  Baseball was, is and always will be to me the best game in the world.

SAM: How can you say that?  The players are always demanding more money, the ticket prices are so high I have to squeeze under the fence to get in.

BABE: That’s not the game of baseball, that’s the business of baseball.  There’s always been problems with the business.  Greedy owners, mean players…  Mean owners, greedy players.  Believe me, I know.  But that’s not the game.  The game is played out here, on the grass, in the summer time when the sun is shining, the air is warm, and people are happy.  (With building enthusiasm.)  In the game you get to do it all.  You get to throw, you get to catch, you get to run, and you get to play tag.  And if you’re on base, you’re safe!  No one can tag you!  And you get to do the most glorious thing that is done in any game, you get to hit a ball with a bat.  I could always feel it in my hands, when I knew I’d timed it just right, I laid wood on the ball, and then for one… brief… moment… time stood still… everyone, the people in the stands, the players on the field, would be frozen, watching that tiny white ball sail away and disappear… then the crowd cheers and you get to trot around the bases.

SAM: You get to do that if you can hit the stupid ball.

BABE: I said it was the best game in the world, not the easiest game in the world.  It takes practice, work.  You have to study hitting.  I’ve seen you come out to watch batting practice.  I used to watch Joe Jackson swing.  I learned a lot from him.

SAM: “Shoeless” Joe Jackson?

BABE: One and the same.

SAM: Some great game.  Didn’t he get banned from baseball for throwing the World Series?

BABE: Yeah.  He was one of the Chicago “Black Sox.”  But I’ll tell you something, he batted .375 in that World Series with twelve hits, one of ‘em a home run, and he didn’t commit a single error.  If those gamblers paid him to throw the series, they didn’t get much for their money.

SAM: Then why did he get banned from baseball?

BABE: I told ya kid, the business of baseball can be mean.

SAM: Hey, wait a minute.  Didn’t “Shoeless” Joe play in 1919?  How old are you?

BABE: Well, uh, he played some bush league and barnstorming after he was kicked out of the majors.  I saw him late in his career.

SAM: Oh.

BABE: Joe Jackson had the sweetest swing in the game, and I loved hitting it big, with everything I’ve got.

SAM: Who’d you play for?

BABE: Uh, St. Mary’s, and some minor league ball in Baltimore.

SAM: When?

BABE: A long time ago…  Never mind… It was a long time ago…  Baseball has changed a lot.  Players used to have more fun.  We had some characters.  And I had my share of run-ins with managers and owners.  I don’t know if I could play today.  I’d probably last about two days if I worked for George Steinbrenner.

SAM: Ha, ha.  Yeah, right.  Like you could play for the Yankees.

BABE: Yeah, I guess that is pretty funny.  So… do you want me to help you work on your swing?

SAM: I’m not sure you can help.

BABE: You won’t know if you don’t try.

SAM: Why do you care if I can hit or not?

BABE: I told ya, I love the game.

SAM: So?

BABE: You may not know it, but the most important thing to baseball is you.

SAM: Me?

BABE: You!  Fenway’s a great park, but this ain’t where baseball lives.  Baseball lives in you and kids like you.  It lives in every sandlot or vacant field where kids come together with worn out mitts and scuffed up baseballs to do the only really important thing that is ever done on a baseball diamond.  They have fun.  You can even play this game barefoot.  It’s hard to not have fun when you’re barefoot.

SAM: Did “Shoeless” Joe really play barefoot?

BABE: When he was in the minors, he got blisters from a new pair of spikes, so he played the next day in his socks.  Some sportswriter dubbed him “Shoeless” Joe Jackson and it stuck.  So…  (hands Sam her bat) you’d have a lot more fun if you learned how to hit.  Wanna try?

SAM: I don’t know.

BABE: You said your pop never quit.  You’re not quitting, are you?

SAM: No.

BABE: (They each have bats and face each other, center stage.)  Let me see your swing.

SAM: (The same awful swing.)   What do you think?

BABE: Well, you held onto the bat.  That was good.

SAM: What else was good?

BABE: Nothing… Don’t get sore, kid.  Here, watch me.  Knees bent, feet about shoulder width, weight on your back foot, hands back.  Now you try it.  (Sam takes a batting stance.)  Your hands are too far back.

SAM: I like ‘em there.

BABE: Close your left eye.

SAM: What?

BABE: Close your left eye.  (Sam closes her left eye.)  If there was a pitcher in front of you, could you see him?

SAM: No.

BABE: Keep your left eye shut.  Now, turn your head so you can see the pitcher.  That’s better.  Now open your eye.  Now you can see the pitcher with both eyes.  The most important thing in hitting is seeing the ball.  Watch it come out of the pitchers hand and don’t take your eyes off it.  Now, watch my swing. (Babe takes a stance.)  When I see the ball coming I step into it, then swing right through it.  (Babe swings.)  Your bat has got to get to the plate before the ball.  You want to hit it in front of the plate.  And you want to be up on your toes.  You’ve been swinging from your heels.  Now you try it.  (Sam swings.  It’s better, but she almost falls over from swinging so hard.)  That’s a lot better, but you’re swinging for the bleachers.  Just make contact, you can work on your home run swing later.

SAM: If you’re so good, you show me how it’s done.  I’ll pitch.

BABE: O.K.

SAM: Pedro Martinez goes into his stretch.  (Sam goes into a stretch, looks at an imaginary runner on first.)  Checks the runner on first…  Throws to the plate.  (Babe takes a big cut, misses on purpose.)  Curve ball!  Strike one!

BABE: Hey Pedro.  You got your good stuff today.

SAM: Two out as Martinez holds onto a one run lead.  He goes into his stretch…  Here it comes.  (Another swing and miss.)  Fastball!  Strike two!

BABE: I didn’t even see that one.

SAM: Ha.  Some power hitter.  You swing like a rusty gate.

BABE: (Babe hitches his pants, touches the plate with his bat.)  Just put it over the plate.

SAM: Martinez needs just one pitch to finish off this bum.  He shakes off the signal… shakes off another… now he gets set…  here comes the pitch.  (Sam throws, Babe sends it out of the park, Sam watches with her mouth open.)  Wow!  You hit that a ton.  Can you teach me how to do that?

BABE: (Not wanting to give himself away.)  Nah.  It was just luck.

SAM: Do it again.  Do it again.  

BABE: That’s enough.

SAM: Come on.  Hit another one.

BABE: I don’t do that any more.

SAM: You swing like a girl.

BABE: What’s wrong with that?  You’re too young to remember Babe Didrikson, but she could knock the cover off anything you could throw at her, Pedro.

SAM: You swing like a… like a gorilla.  (Babe mimics a gorilla, arms swinging, he clowns and has his back to Sam.)  You swing like… like George Steinbrenner. 

BABE: (Babe stiffens, stands up and turns to Sam.)  Don’t say that.

SAM: (Getting into it, singing and dancing.)  You swing like George Steinbrenner, you swing like George Steinbrenner…

BABE: Stop that!

SAM: I’ll stop if you hit another one.

BABE: Put it over the plate.  (Another pitch, another home run.)  

SAM: Wow!  Wow!  That was bigger than the first one.  Nobody hits ‘em that big.  Nobody!  Not even… George… Herman… Ruth!  (Runs around to look at Babe.  Babe turns away.)  Babe Ruth! You’re Babe Ruth!

BABE: Some people say I look like him.

SAM: Lots of people look like him.  Nobody hits like him.  Nobody else could do what you just did.  But how?  Didn’t you die?  (Babe sits on the bench.)  I gotta tell someone.  Hey!  Is anyone here?  This is Babe Ruth!  Babe Ruth!

BABE: Save your breath kid.

SAM: I need someone else to see you so I know I’m not nuts.  Hey, somebody, anybody!!

BABE: Nobody else can see me.

SAM: What?

BABE: I said nobody else can see me.  Just  you.

SAM: Why?

BABE: Because I don’t want anyone else to see me.  I’ve had my fill of most people.  But I still like kids.  I see you come out here to Fenway, usually alone.  You looked like you could use a friend.

SAM: (Sits down, pokes Babe in the arm with her finger.)  You feel real.

BABE: Oh, I’m real alright.

SAM: But… how?… why?

BABE: Don’t try to figure it out, kid.

SAM: Why are you here at Fenway?

BABE: I’m a ball player.  I signed a contract and I can’t break it.

SAM: You signed a contract with the Red Sox?

BABE: Not exactly.

SAM: Then who?… 

BABE: I made a deal with… (points to the ground) you know… (makes a gesture of horns on his head.)

SAM: You signed a contract with… But why?

BABE: I was young.  I was stupid. 

SAM: But why are you stuck here at Fenway…  Come on, tell me.

BABE: It’s in the contract…  I have to stay here…  Forever.

SAM: And?

BABE: I have to make sure the Red Sox never win another World Series.

SAM: Wow!  The “Curse of the Bambino”…  So it’s true.  My dad told…  I always thought…  (Thinks and gets an angry look.  Hits Babe on the arm with her hat.)

BABE: Hey, what did you do that for?

SAM: I’m a Red Sox fan!

BABE: Oh, O.K.  I guess I had that coming.

SAM: (Hits him again.)  And my father was a Red Sox fan.  (Pause.  Hits him again.)  And his father was a Red Sox fan.  (Hits him again.)  And his father’s father was a Red Sox fan.

BABE: (Stands and rubs his arm.)  Hey kid, how many relatives you got?

SAM: A lot!  And they would all like to take a poke at you right now.  All these years!!…  The Red Sox lost the World Series in 1946.

BABE: That one wasn’t my fault.  In ‘46 I wasn’t dead yet.

SAM: They lost again in ‘67.

BABE: That one was my fault.

SAM: ‘75?

BABE: That one too.

SAM: ‘86?  (Babe gives a sheepish look and shrugs.)  Bucky Dent’s home run that beat the Sox in ‘78?

BABE: I gave him a little help.

SAM: Bill Buckner’s error in ‘86?

BABE: I gave the ball just a little nudge.

SAM: (Slowly.)  Last… year… Aaron Boone’s 11th inning homer?  

BABE: It’s just a job.  It’s not personal.

SAM: (Throws her hat on the ground in frustration.)  Arrrghhh!  And all that fancy talk about how much you love the game.

BABE: I do love the game.

SAM: There’s no game if you’re fixing it! 

BABE: Kid, you can’t make me feel worse than I already do.  I’ve signed some lousy contracts in my time, but this one is the worst. 

SAM: Then break it!

BABE: It’s not that easy.  I’ve tried.  The Devil’s got me licked.

SAM: Are you a quitter?

BABE: Maybe I am.

SAM: I think I was wrong. You’re not Babe Ruth.  You’re just some bum who hangs out at Fenway.  (Sam starts to leave.)

BABE: Hey kid!  Don’t go.  I don’t want to be alone…  Maybe…  we can figure a way… together.

SAM: You mean it?

BABE: Sure, I mean it.

SAM: All right.  (Still not convinced Babe means it.)  Well, what happens if you just quit doing what the Devil tells ya?

BABE: I tried that once.  He came and turned up the heat, I mean really turned up the heat.

SAM: Oh.  Well, there’s gotta be some way.  Some way to get you out of here and into heaven.

BABE: Whoa, kid.  You’re swinging for the bleachers again.  Just get me out of Fenway.  I don’t think the Pope could get me into heaven.

SAM: You can’t be that bad.  You used to help a lot of kids.

BABE: I’m not sure that makes up for all the rotten stuff I did.  Lou Gehrig was the most decent man I’ve ever known.  I was sore at him once, and I cheated him out of twenty-five bucks in a poker game.  Then he goes and gets that terrible disease.  He’s knows he’s dying, and he stands there in Yankee Stadium and thanks everybody he knows, and says he’s the luckiest man on the face of the earth.  I felt like such a crumb.

SAM: Twenty-five bucks?  That’s not so bad.

BABE: I ain’t telling ya the bad stuff.  Just get me out of Fenway.  Don’t worry about heaven.

SAM: O.K…  I wish my dad was still here.  He’d know what to do.

BABE: Sounds like your pop was pretty special.

SAM: He was the best.

BABE: How long ago did he…

SAM: You can say it.  He died.  About three years now.  He was driving home late, after playing in a doubleheader.  He was always scraping by.  Driving on four bald tires, one of ‘em blew and he went off the road. 

BABE: That’s a tough break. 

SAM: Yeah.  Maybe your dad was always in his saloon, but at least you had a dad.

BABE: I’m not so sure.  Until I was nineteen I was in and out of St. Mary’s.  Mostly in.  The whole time I was there, my pop never came to visit me.

SAM: Never?  Not once?  What about your mom?

BABE: She’d come when she could, but she was awful busy.  She had eight kids.  

SAM: You’ve got seven brothers and sisters?

BABE: I got one sister, Mamie.  The rest of ‘em died when they was babies.

SAM: Oh.

BABE: My mom died when I was sixteen…  I ain’t kickin’.  A lot of people had it tough in those days.  Both my folks worked hard to provide for me and Mamie.  I wasn’t abandoned, and I wasn’t no orphan.  A lot of people say so, but it ain’t  true.  But I do know what it’s like to be alone.  And I know what it’s like to lose a parent.  (A period of silence.)  So how’s your mom doing?

SAM: O.K.  It was hard for her at first.  She cried a lot.  But now she has a new man friend, Nick Landis.

BABE: Man friend?  

SAM: That’s what my mom asks me to call him.

BABE: Instead of calling him her boy friend?

SAM: No.  Instead of calling him her jerk friend.

BABE: Oh…  Is he really a jerk?

SAM: We’re all coming to tonight’s ball game.  You’ll get a chance to meet him.  You can decide for yourself.

BABE: I won’t meet him.  He can’t see me, remember?

SAM: Oh yeah.  Well, you’ll get a chance to see him.  (Suddenly remembering.)  Oh man, what time is it?

BABE: How would I know?

SAM: I was supposed to be home.  There’s a pay phone over by the gate.  I gotta make a call.  Watch my stuff. 

BABE: O.K. (As Sam exits through the audience, a man gets up from his seat in the audience, near the seat where Sam has been sitting.  This man is Bill Collins.  He has been sitting here through all of act one.  He just gets up and walks out behind Sam.  It should not be made obvious to the audience that this is a character in the play, but Babe sees him follow Sam.  Babe paces nervously until Sam returns.  Bill follows Sam back and takes his seat.)  Sam, you O.K.?

SAM: Yeah.  I gotta go.  But I’ll be back tonight, and I’ll be thinking of ways to get you out of here.

BABE: O.K.  You be careful.

SAM: (Nonplussed re why Babe is concerned about her safety.)  Yeah, sure.  See ya tonight.  (Waves good bye and exits