BABE RUTH TRIES HIS HAND AT CRICKET

Taranaki Daily News, 16 April 1935, Page 12

BABE RUTH TRIES HIS HAND AT CRICKET

Good Fun, but Not What You’d Call A Game BASEBALL IDOL RUINS A BAT IN FEW MINUTES Babe Ruth, as prominent in baseball in the United States as Don Bradman is at cricket in Australia, has tried his hand at cricket; Mr. lan Coster, formerly a member of the staff of the Christchurch “Sun,” and now with the “Evening Standard” in London, . was there when this interesting experiment was tried. He has written the following amusing account of the event;— There was a cricket Test match in London to-day. Babe Ruth, America’s baseball idol, peeled off his camel-hair coat ahd his camel-haiir cap and told Alan Fairfax, late of Australia, to give him “everything you got.” It was in Fairfax’s indoor school. The Babe, 17st giant, played in his shirtsleeves and a big cigar. “Nerts,” he said, “I don’t want them things,” when thhy offered him pads. They gave him a nice new bat. "You’re not telling me I can hit with the flat side?” he asked. "Hell, that makes it dead easy. . They make us baseball players hit with a round stick.” He took a slightly unorthodox stance at the crease. He called it the plate. The bat w'as over his shoulder. He put ,up a bit of a smoke screen with his cigar, and stood well away from the wicket. “Let it go, big boy,” he said. Fairfax trundled one up. The bat came round like a flail. The ball bounded into the netting. The Babe’s next few strokes smote the air.

“What’s wrong with these lights?” he asked.

The fourth ball got his middle stump. “So I’m out, am I?” he said, and he chewed the end of his cigar. Then he began to see them. He developed a lash to the off which threatened to crack the ceiling. Only the slow balls beat him. Anything fast was smashed away. Fairfax, wiping the sweat off his brow, said, “Give me a fortnight with him, and we’d show some of these cricketers how to bat.”

The Babe’s cigar had gone out.' He lashed one ball on to his calf and howled. A fast bowler came on.

“This is leg-theory, Babe,” somebody called.

The ball went like a shot. It was a full pitcher. The Babe took it oil the full and welted down the pitch. "Say, that’s how I like them,” he yelled. Ten minutes later the Babe retired. Fairfax took the bat. The “top edge,” as Babe called it was smashed to a pulp and split. The handle was broken. Fairfax looked a little mournfully at it. “This was new.” he said. Then the Babe decided to, have some of his own back. He “wound himself up” and began to pitch at Fairfax. He gave him “hookers” and “faders-out,” but the Australian played a straight bat to them, and only a couple beat him. “This boy could be taught to play ball,” said Ruth, chewing his long-dead cigar. There was a friendly conference after the match had been declared a draw. “How far do you reckon you can hit a ball on the fly?” he asked. Fairfax said. “About 200 yards.”

The Babe refused to believe it. “Why my record back in 1918, was 599 feet,” he said, “and I couldn’t do it now.” He thought cricket was good fun, but not what you’d call a game. “But, say,” he said, “if you don’t pay your cricketers arty more than you do the footballers. why, I’d like to get in the racket. Maybe, I could buy some club and start in to make big money.” ,