Babe Ruth’s unique cane, and why he used it

Babe Ruth was arguably the greatest athlete in American history.

Certainly, there have been, and always will be, many great figures in all sports. But none of them – Michael Jordan or LeBron James or Tom Brady – have ever, probably will never, dominate sports AND society in the way Babe Ruth did.

Ruth wasn’t an angel, nor did he claim to be. But he was a center of American life the way no athlete ever was or will be.

He was a remarkably good baseball player. In an era where home runs were rarities, he hit more than the entire rest of Major League Baseball combined. But he wasn’t just a slugger, he was an excellent play maker, fielder, and pitcher. (He was actually one of the best pitchers of his era, something else mostly forgotten today.)

Ruth retired in 1935. He never entirely left the limelight, with fans showing up even to watch him play golf in celebrity tournaments. In 1939 he spoke on July 4 at Lou Gehrig appreciation day as his former teammate was publicly dying of ALS.

In 1946 Ruth began having trouble swallowing and developed pain over his right eye. He was found to have nasopharyngeal carcinoma spreading down into his skull base and neck.

Even today surgery to remove cancer from that area is tricky. In 1946 it didn’t exist. An experimental treatment of combined radiation and chemotherapy – today standard – was tried, including a new folic acid derivative called teropterin. He improved somewhat – enough that he was an unnamed case study presented at a medical meeting – but had lost 80 pounds. After a brief respite he continued to go downhill. On June 13, 1948, he appeared at Yankee Stadium – the house that Ruth built – for the last time, where he was honored. He had difficulty walking and used a baseball bat as a cane. His pharynx was so damaged his voice could barely be heard. He died 2 months later on Aug. 16, 1948.

Nathaniel Fein/Wikimedia Commons/public domain

This isn’t a sports column, I’m not a sports writer, and this definitely ain’t Sport Illustrated. So why am I writing this?

Because Babe Ruth never knew he had cancer. Was never told he was dying. His family was afraid he’d harm himself if he knew, so his doctors were under strict instructions to keep the bad news from him.

Now, Ruth wasn’t stupid. Wild, unrepentant, hedonistic, and a lot of other things – but not stupid. He certainly must have figured it out with getting radiation, or chemotherapy, or his declining physical status. But none of his doctors or family ever told him he had cancer and was dying (what they did tell him I have no idea).

Let’s look at this as a case history: A 51-year-old male, possessed of all his mental faculties, presents with headaches, dysphonia, and dysphagia. Workup reveals advanced, inoperable, nasopharyngeal cancer. The family is willing to accept treatment, but understands the prognosis is poor. Family members request that, under no circumstances, he be told of the diagnosis or prognosis.

The fact that the patient is probably the biggest celebrity of his era shouldn’t make a difference, but it does.

I’m sure most of us would want to tell the patient. We live in an age of patient autonomy. People who are mentally competent have a right to know their diseases and participate in treatment plans. But what if the family has concerns that the patient would hurt himself, as Ruth’s family did?

This summer is 75 years since the Babe died. Medicine has changed a lot, but some questions never will.

What would you do?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Babe Ruth was arguably the greatest athlete in American history.

Certainly, there have been, and always will be, many great figures in all sports. But none of them – Michael Jordan or LeBron James or Tom Brady – have ever, probably will never, dominate sports AND society in the way Babe Ruth did.

Ruth wasn’t an angel, nor did he claim to be. But he was a center of American life the way no athlete ever was or will be.

He was a remarkably good baseball player. In an era where home runs were rarities, he hit more than the entire rest of Major League Baseball combined. But he wasn’t just a slugger, he was an excellent play maker, fielder, and pitcher. (He was actually one of the best pitchers of his era, something else mostly forgotten today.)

Ruth retired in 1935. He never entirely left the limelight, with fans showing up even to watch him play golf in celebrity tournaments. In 1939 he spoke on July 4 at Lou Gehrig appreciation day as his former teammate was publicly dying of ALS.

In 1946 Ruth began having trouble swallowing and developed pain over his right eye. He was found to have nasopharyngeal carcinoma spreading down into his skull base and neck.

Even today surgery to remove cancer from that area is tricky. In 1946 it didn’t exist. An experimental treatment of combined radiation and chemotherapy – today standard – was tried, including a new folic acid derivative called teropterin. He improved somewhat – enough that he was an unnamed case study presented at a medical meeting – but had lost 80 pounds. After a brief respite he continued to go downhill. On June 13, 1948, he appeared at Yankee Stadium – the house that Ruth built – for the last time, where he was honored. He had difficulty walking and used a baseball bat as a cane. His pharynx was so damaged his voice could barely be heard. He died 2 months later on Aug. 16, 1948.

Nathaniel Fein/Wikimedia Commons/public domain

This isn’t a sports column, I’m not a sports writer, and this definitely ain’t Sport Illustrated. So why am I writing this?

Because Babe Ruth never knew he had cancer. Was never told he was dying. His family was afraid he’d harm himself if he knew, so his doctors were under strict instructions to keep the bad news from him.

Now, Ruth wasn’t stupid. Wild, unrepentant, hedonistic, and a lot of other things – but not stupid. He certainly must have figured it out with getting radiation, or chemotherapy, or his declining physical status. But none of his doctors or family ever told him he had cancer and was dying (what they did tell him I have no idea).

Let’s look at this as a case history: A 51-year-old male, possessed of all his mental faculties, presents with headaches, dysphonia, and dysphagia. Workup reveals advanced, inoperable, nasopharyngeal cancer. The family is willing to accept treatment, but understands the prognosis is poor. Family members request that, under no circumstances, he be told of the diagnosis or prognosis.

The fact that the patient is probably the biggest celebrity of his era shouldn’t make a difference, but it does.

I’m sure most of us would want to tell the patient. We live in an age of patient autonomy. People who are mentally competent have a right to know their diseases and participate in treatment plans. But what if the family has concerns that the patient would hurt himself, as Ruth’s family did?

This summer is 75 years since the Babe died. Medicine has changed a lot, but some questions never will.

What would you do?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Babe Ruth was arguably the greatest athlete in American history.

Certainly, there have been, and always will be, many great figures in all sports. But none of them – Michael Jordan or LeBron James or Tom Brady – have ever, probably will never, dominate sports AND society in the way Babe Ruth did.

Ruth wasn’t an angel, nor did he claim to be. But he was a center of American life the way no athlete ever was or will be.

He was a remarkably good baseball player. In an era where home runs were rarities, he hit more than the entire rest of Major League Baseball combined. But he wasn’t just a slugger, he was an excellent play maker, fielder, and pitcher. (He was actually one of the best pitchers of his era, something else mostly forgotten today.)

Ruth retired in 1935. He never entirely left the limelight, with fans showing up even to watch him play golf in celebrity tournaments. In 1939 he spoke on July 4 at Lou Gehrig appreciation day as his former teammate was publicly dying of ALS.

In 1946 Ruth began having trouble swallowing and developed pain over his right eye. He was found to have nasopharyngeal carcinoma spreading down into his skull base and neck.

Even today surgery to remove cancer from that area is tricky. In 1946 it didn’t exist. An experimental treatment of combined radiation and chemotherapy – today standard – was tried, including a new folic acid derivative called teropterin. He improved somewhat – enough that he was an unnamed case study presented at a medical meeting – but had lost 80 pounds. After a brief respite he continued to go downhill. On June 13, 1948, he appeared at Yankee Stadium – the house that Ruth built – for the last time, where he was honored. He had difficulty walking and used a baseball bat as a cane. His pharynx was so damaged his voice could barely be heard. He died 2 months later on Aug. 16, 1948.

Nathaniel Fein/Wikimedia Commons/public domain

This isn’t a sports column, I’m not a sports writer, and this definitely ain’t Sport Illustrated. So why am I writing this?

Because Babe Ruth never knew he had cancer. Was never told he was dying. His family was afraid he’d harm himself if he knew, so his doctors were under strict instructions to keep the bad news from him.

Now, Ruth wasn’t stupid. Wild, unrepentant, hedonistic, and a lot of other things – but not stupid. He certainly must have figured it out with getting radiation, or chemotherapy, or his declining physical status. But none of his doctors or family ever told him he had cancer and was dying (what they did tell him I have no idea).

Let’s look at this as a case history: A 51-year-old male, possessed of all his mental faculties, presents with headaches, dysphonia, and dysphagia. Workup reveals advanced, inoperable, nasopharyngeal cancer. The family is willing to accept treatment, but understands the prognosis is poor. Family members request that, under no circumstances, he be told of the diagnosis or prognosis.

The fact that the patient is probably the biggest celebrity of his era shouldn’t make a difference, but it does.

I’m sure most of us would want to tell the patient. We live in an age of patient autonomy. People who are mentally competent have a right to know their diseases and participate in treatment plans. But what if the family has concerns that the patient would hurt himself, as Ruth’s family did?

This summer is 75 years since the Babe died. Medicine has changed a lot, but some questions never will.

What would you do?

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.