"The Pride of the Yankees" (1942)

There is no baseball right now.  Social distancing has eliminated events that draw large crowds, and sports have been put on hold indefinitely.  The silence from ball parks nationwide is almost as loud as the now-absent crowds. All we have left to fill the void are stories from baseball’s days past, and the players who have become part of American lore.

Lou Gehrig, one of the game’s all-time best-loved players, was born in 1903.  He rose up from the ethnic streets of New York, raised by strict and loving German parents, and in 1923 signed to play first base with the New York Yankees. Gehrig the rookie joined world-renowned players like Babe Ruth, in a lineup that was known as Murderers Row, and later the Bronx Bombers.  

Before long Gehrig, a quiet and unassuming man, thrilled fans with his talent, and was dubbed The Iron Horse for his powerful swing and impressive batting average.  He was a dedicated athlete, who set a record for the most consecutive games played—2,130—a record that stood for 65 years.

In 1939, Gehrig began to suffer unusual physical weakness, leading to a decline in his performance.  With his loving wife Eleanor by his side, he was diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), a fatal degenerative disease of the nerves and muscles, which was so rare that it became known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease, a term that is used today. On May 2, 1939, he asked his Manager to remove him from the lineup, ending his playing streak.  He left the sport for good, to the sorrow of his teammates and scores of fans.  

July 4, 1939 was declared Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day by New York’s Mayor LaGuardia.  Over 62,000 fans filled Yankee Stadium to pay tribute to this hero, who, in a halting and heartfelt speech to the crowd, declared himself “the luckiest man on the face of the earth”.

Almost two years later, on June 2, 1941, Lou Gehrig passed away. He was 37 years old.

“The Pride of the Yankees”, the affectionate, sentimental biopic of this beloved sports figure, was released in July, 1942, about a year after Gehrig’s death.  His story was so well-known to the nation, and his passing was still so raw and so widely mourned, that audiences coming to see the movie were already aware of the fate of a man they felt they knew, and the film played on this knowledge.  

(Unfortunately, after eight decades, there remains no cure for ALS.)

The film is big and good-hearted, and is a  definite product of its era. It’s like an awkward, gregarious, but terminally ill friend, whose jokes are sometimes corny, who is somewhat politically incorrect, and who is hopelessly old-fashioned; yet who is so eager to please, that you can’t help but like him.  Even when he tries to manipulate you, you give in, because you are aware of his unfortunate end.

Gary Cooper, a supreme actor, plays Gehrig.  It is a gentle and powerful performance, moving nicely from the aw-shucks shyness of the dutiful son and baseball rookie, and his early clumsiness that got him the label “tanglefoot”; to the playfulness of his courtship and marriage to Eleanor; and finally to the stoicism of a young man facing his doom. 

Cooper overcame the fact that he was already too old to play Gehrig; but with help from his lighting cameraman, his skill as an actor, and his resemblance to the real Gehrig, he pulls it off.  Cooper’s inability to throw with his left hand was even addressed by Oscar-winning film editor Daniel Mandell, who devised a way to shoot a reverse image of Cooper throwing right-handed, and then flipping the film in the editing process to make Cooper a southpaw.

Teresa Wright (“The Best Years of Our Lives”) was the reigning sweetheart of American movies in the 1940s.  She is a strong presence in “The Pride of the Yankees”, blending good humor with a convincing gravity which will break your heart. She lost the Oscar that year for Best Actress, but actually won in the Supporting Actress category that same year for “Mrs. Miniver”, playing another strong romantic character.

The film delivers excitement, laughs, heroics, romance, and heartbreak.  It is one of the most effective tearjerkers Hollywood ever produced.  The story alone, told simply and unadorned by dramatics, is enough to make even the most unsentimental viewer swallow hard.  “The Pride of the Yankees”, however, pulls out all the stops, including gut-grabbing closeups, a plaintive and romantic score, skilled performances, and an incredibly moving finale that almost dares a viewer not to dissolve into tears.  

The mythmaking screenplay retains the highlights of Gehrig’s life: from his childhood, breaking windows with his commanding swing; to his school days studying to be an engineer to please his practical mother; to his romance and marriage to his plucky sweetheart Eleanor; and on to his days with the Yankees and his  untimely demise.  Dramatic liberties were taken for the sake of drama, but the heart of Gehrig’s story is alive and authentic.  Yankee players, like Babe Ruth even appear playing themselves, for added realism.  

“The Pride of the Yankees” is the typical 1940s film biography, except that the subject of this story was so current to its time.  It's best to watch it in its historical context,  imagining the feelings of viewers who watched Gehrig’s thrilling career and agonized over his tragic end.  It is hard to imagine Hollywood today producing a film so soon after the death of such a beloved figure in American sports or culture, with famous celebrities co-starring as themselves.  It’s even harder to imagine such a figure of integrity and talent as Gehrig today

As I watched “The Pride of the Yankees” recently, I wept almost the entire time, even as I smiled and laughed at many of the antics on display.  The music got to me.  And the story.  And the perfect gentleness of the main characters as they prepared for a terrible loss.  The finale that recreated the tribute at Yankee Stadium got to me, with Copper’s perfect delivery of Gehrig’s speech, Wright’s mournful tears as she watched alone from the causeway, and the playing of “Auld Lange Syne” as Gehrig, flanked by his current and former teammates, received trophies and plaques. (Fortunately, we are spared a death scene).

But where I really lost it was in the final shot, which was a perfect symbol for Gehrig’s passing. As Gehrig leaves the field to a wild ovation from the crowd, and walks, alone, into the shadows of the dugout, we hear, off-camera, the umpire call out the words, “Play ball!”  Those two words are tragic and hopeful.  I felt so bad for Lou, who knew that life would go on, that he might even be forgotten before he left the stadium.  It’s also full of hope, that life, and baseball, will indeed go on.

But the tears I experienced went deeper than the film itself.

I cried for the characters depicted in the film who loved Lou: his parents, his partner, his team, his fans, his friends in the press box, even the little boy in the hospital who was inspired by Lou to get well and walk again.  I identified with all of them. 

I cried for myself, a gangly and uncoordinated child, thinking that if I watched “The Pride of the Yankees” on TV I would have something in common with the other more athletic boys in the neighborhood.

I cried for my father, a die-hard Cubs fan, who stopped following baseball cold-turkey after the 1980 player’s strike, feeling betrayed by the game that he loved all his life.

I cried for my tomboy little sister, who called this her favorite film when we were growing up.

I cried for my mother, seated on the living room couch, watching this movie with me and weeping openly, while I choked back my tears because boys weren’t supposed to cry at movies.

I think, too, that I cried for the loss of baseball and everything else we’ve lost in this strange time.  It may be a while, but I refuse to believe that all of it is gone forever: the game we all used to know, the lives we knew before this all happened.  I don’t want to give up, and accept that this is how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives.  I want so badly to hear those two words once again.

“Play ball.”