Alistair Cooke on Babe Ruth

“In the nineteen-twenties, visiting Britons took in a visit to the Yankee Stadium to see the Babe in action as dutifully as they went to Niagara, Washington, Mt. Vernon. They inferred an approximate tribute in regarding Ruth as the American Jack Hobbs. However, it is no slight to any cricketer, living or dead, or even to the redoubtable Ty Cobb, the master of the baseball ancients, to say that Ruth was the W.G. Grace of baseball. He was not only a player of unapproachable skill but he transformed the game from an affair of sacrifices, stealing bases, agile lobs that had the batters hopping traditionally from one base to the next, to constant strain after the one huge hit that had the men at base rolling home like trotting ponies, while the scoreboard clocked runs with a one-two-three alacrity. The fluid pattern of the modern game, and its continuous suspense through "the one big inning," is wholly his creation.”

“He was a superman and yet his legs were spindly. He was a big florid man, yet all his movements were dainty as a squirrel's. He was gentle to children and could be blasphemous to adults. He was Hercules with bat in hand, but he was Hercules done by Disney. And this unfailing whimsicality, of gesture and mood, tempered by the inhumanity of his skill, made him at one with his audience, made it possible, in the subtle Chaplin way, for the lame and fumbling and the mousy to see in him the embodiment of their delusions of power and fame.”