A Book and OODA Loop: A Worthy Read? OODA Loop in One's Life

A Decade in the Making

It has been a great while since I have posted here. As most long-time readers (probably less than five) know, I had been plugging away or finishing up my pièce de résistance, a baseball book, titled, Bringin' Gas and Dialin' 9: A Seven Score  Addiction to the National Pastime (1869-1949), Volume 1. Quite a mouthful, and well, I say a lot over 517 pages (with appendices). 

While I could give you a quick synopsis about all the topics, ranging from the faithful beginnings of the game to macrosabermetric analysis of top baseball prospects and their intrinsic value in the present day, I'd rather not. Instead, I want to say that while I accomplished something nearly a decade in the doing, I feel a severe let down in this moment.

Maybe it comes from the personal energies expended this summer to rewrite and edit together many working parts in the last section, in particular. Or the dissatisfaction I still have that I could have expounded more on the game, through its first century (the actual time frame is longer than the title suggests) of the game. Or even the much harder task of marketing the book - as I'm not all that keen to that proposition - even as I attend Valparaiso's MBA program and work on a Global Marketing class at the present. I should be really thrilled to apply lessons on branding, creating channels to the product, pitching it, finding markets, and otherwise, making people more aware of it through Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Outbrain, and all the baseball websites in existence. (And create an outlet on Amazon - which is another story, tied to formatting.)

No, those things are in mix, to be sure, but don't quite nail down what is driving the undercurrent of the recent letdown.  I wish those loved the most dearly in life were alive to see the final outcome of the project: my mother atop that list. I acknowledged this here and here. I won't recount the story in this blog, but we all have reasons we do things and for people we admired and inspired us to just try. Just try. Give it the college try - as the cliche goes.

But motivation to carry on - that daily will to endeavor on something of greater significance - has been absent. Other priorities, namely, the pressing venture back to full-time employment and those unknowns (at the moment), seem hollow, and a bit underwhelming. If recent contacts and recruiters are of any indication to those prospects. (To a future employer: Look, if you are happy every single day with your career, family and daily tasking, I commend you. But I suspect that's not what is really going on. My realism on this subject is acknowledging a verity, for me, at least: I have a sinusoidal curve when it come to my emotions about things.)

 OODA Loop

 I guess to show I am making efforts to break this funk, I will include something of recent learning in my marketing class, which I have shared a few places online. The OODA loop, which like the DMAIC cycle and other ideas on learning, quick decision-making, or dramatic process improvement methods, has application towards creativity, breaking out of a rut, and acting based off all appropriate information and acknowledgement of internal biases versus an external world through feedback. Air Force Colonel John Boyd is given the most credit for creation of this concept. His thinking behind it significantly altered businesses, military strategy, and even, litigation methodology. 

Quote from Wikipedia:

Boyd’s diagram shows that all decisions are based on observations of the evolving situation tempered with implicit filtering of the problem being addressed. These observations are the raw information on which decisions and actions are based. The observed information must be processed to orient it for further making a decision. In notes from his talk “Organic Design for Command and Control”, Boyd said,

The second O, orientation – as the repository of our genetic heritage, cultural tradition, and previous experiences – is the most important part of the O-O-D-A loop since it shapes the way we observe, the way we decide, the way we act.

From Mindtools - the first two concepts break out into questions one should ask themselves.

Stage 1. Observe

At this initial point in the loop, you should be on the look-out for new information, and need to be aware of unfolding circumstances. The more information you can take in here, the more accurate your perception will be. Like an F-86 pilot with a wide field of vision, you want to capture as much incoming data as possible. The kind of questions you need to be asking are:

• What's happening in the environment that directly affects me?
• What's happening that indirectly affects me?
• What's happening that may have residual affects later on?
• Were my predictions accurate?
• Are there any areas where prediction and reality differ significantly?

Stage 2. Orient

One of the main problems with decision-making comes at the Orient stage: we all view events in a way that's filtered through our own experiences and perceptions. Boyd identified five main influences:

• Cultural traditions.
• Genetic heritage.
• The ability to analyze and synthesize.
• Previous experience.
• New information coming in.

Orientation is essentially how you interpret a situation. This then leads directly to your decision. 

Interpretation of events is analysis or synthesis part. Previous experiences (conformation bias) leads to all sorts of unfortunate "processing errors" (called Decisions cum Actions) once we move on into the decision and action phases of the OODA loop. Even with feedback - as we can readjust our observations or orientations in REAL TIME - many don't.

I have often failed at this.  As a flawed human being, I have more than my fair share of biases and erroneous observations that have resulted in bad conclusions. Guilty as charged.

Sadly, many millions, and billions, do this also. Even those that proclaim what is right, and defend their ideas quite arrogantly - because, well - it behooves them to in order to maintain face, credentials as an "expert," their current control, or status in life. Or to keep things just the way they want it - heritage or tradition in the orientation - because who really wants to change anyways? We all want to feel we are good enough at present - even when we add more complexities or technologies or stuff into our lives?  (With an undergrad in "change" engineering, industrial, I found most workplaces saying all the right things, "we want things to improve, run better, cost less, be more competitive," but somehow this also meant, someone's job or career would invariably be altered, or cut out from the team or reduced in some way. As a result, creative destruction is apart of any such cycle. It's also called a dirty word: progress.)

The Synthesis of These Connections

Synthesis of these two topics together: I am feeling caught in orientation traps unable to DECIDE what is the best path ahead. I know it. My prior experiences say, "what gives now?" How do I take a route I haven't been on before? Because those have worked out so well - insanity doing the same.

Observe. The world is not getting easier to stomach as it is. The facility in this country to seek some version of the American Dream correlates to how adept one is/becomes with an accelerating technological path at home, or abroad. At 42, I don't feel that's my best use of my time: to dive head long in technology field. Namely, I am no coder; no app writer; and not one that's gonna make a mark writing code in whatever programming language is gonna be hot. Not saying it has to be "totally" about that - but you still have to find your place in that technology pie. And get on the inside somewhere.

Yet, I feel I can identify the useful mechanisms to improve myself, and more importantly: society.

So, at 42, I don't want to operate at all on a "should schedule" unless I get a whole new life experience from that.  By that, I mean, I don't want a 9-5 that (maybe) pays high XX,XXX dollars or devolves into me showing up at the same plant or factory for 2 years. Because that's the sheer limit of my patience - 2 years. I get restless very easy. And I can't afford to jump ship (probabilistically) anymore.

Orientation. Independence. I want that too. We are told erroneously we all have our bosses. Well, aside from God, I tend to feel I have to answer to no one. That means I deem society's rules just a mish-mash of current propensities to favor whatever is the most vocally expressed and the most convenient for a politician to vote on to keep the masses mildly contented, at best. And most superiors found at work are generally hypocritical and loyal only to themselves - if Ayn Rand had remotely a clue. (Not that I agree much at all with her dogmas.)

But, I think I can follow the minimal, 'big rules': don't kill, don't steal, covet a neighbor's wife, and don't bear false witness. Do unto others as you'd like them to do unto you. Honor a father and a mother. Well, 50% ain't that bad on that particular one. The other rules of 'humanity' are getting really tired and unfortunate in their concept and usages. And depending on where you are - and yes, culturally, the rules are starkly different if you have the slightest concept of the globalized world - the rules and values are pretty fungible. To succeed in one cultural arena likely means you are doing some wrong in another part of the world. Keep that straight for a while, and you'll find yourself doing what others want more than you want. (As the movie Road Trip taught us about cheating.)

At Valpo, they implored us to explore values-based leadership. Well a few of my values are: loyalty, honesty (bluntness), invested, and determination. Once you show I can depend on you, I am loyal to you, almost to a fault. Quite a few people in my life haven't understood this about me to their loss. (As they became undependable for support; or sadly, I gave them too much loyalty before they were dependable on too many occasions - such are the erroneous judgments that abound my life.)

I am damnably blunt - I don't think beating around the bush, or using PC language helps us understand the way the world works or addresses the crises very well at all. Invested in doing better, or time on something to get it better (not perfection), and locked on a path, a direction, of some redeemable nature. Determination - if persistence and perseverance can't win, well, nothing can aside from divine intervention can. So be determined to accomplish a good goal. Maybe God will too.

Stage 3 Decide.

 I look at it in this calculated way. We sleep or rest 1/3 of our life away.

As of now, if I live to 70 - 28 more years - I got about 18 plus years of wake time left to do something I think will survive me. 20 years, if I don't sleep in too much. If 80 years of age, that puts me at 25 plus years. So, should I do more than half of it working for some monolithic company, knowing, as I know, once I die, my efforts with them will be basically a blur, a forgotten, an unnoticed cog? (Maybe a retirement dinner - ha!)

Leaving me with less than 10 years of time to accomplish much else? (Mom, and both her parents, passed away at 59-64 years of age. So, I am being quite generous - OODA genetics and heritage, folks!)

I realize I could start a family. Well, she hasn't presented herself to me. I've looked, and I've waited too. Time's a wasting on that idea. I'd like to have a couple of kids. Teach baseball. Would even be a stay-at-home dad, if she desires to be the "career person," my ego will not be crushed. (This doesn't mean I am lazy...) I suppose she'd have to love me first. Applications are taken here.

Stage 4 Action. 

See, I do have many more thoughts, in book form. I'd rather do that instead - if for nothing else - to somehow leave a record on things I noticed: history, people, the journey, love and the mysterious sadness of it all too. Sadly too, the book market ain't gonna pay the bills. So, I asked myself: "what is the minimal amount of money I need to do what I want, but still survive?" Or: "What can I do that I can work 3-4-5 months and get enough out of, then spend 6 months writing and researching?" Or: "Should I get a PhD in Business? (4 years of school on a stipend with the dissertation to complete? Can I even get accepted? This delays the decision of what to really do too.)

I'd like feedback - from my outside environment, my peers, the external events that could lead to other choices.

   

Sporting News Radio: Won't be listening anymore

Usually, on weekends, I listen to late night broadcasts of Sporting News Radio and for quite a while it was a good show. This weekend though, the thoughts were tied to the racial divide in Sports. The idea that African-American males are somehow more involved in off-the-field incidents. Titans CB Adam 'Pacman' Jones, Falcons QB Michael Vick, Tank Johnson and even Giants OF Barry Bonds, were the usual suspects, along with Nuggets PG Allen Iverson.

Host Mr. Tim Montemayor propped up Peyton Manning and Tom Brady as guys that don't get into any trouble. Excuse me, but Peyton Manning certainly did not endear himself to Jamie Whited at the University of Tennessee as the link reflects. (She received a $300,000 settlement from U of T. Then sued Peyton again for defamation- settled again.)

Tom Brady? His ex-girlfriend, Bridget Moynahan, is pregnant alleged his child. Meanwhile, Tom Terrific is now dating another model/actress type Gisele Bundchen, even though he took 'the milk from the cow' and will be 'paying for it.' When your two best shining examples of white American sports athletes doing little wrong are both (past and present) flawed by legal-paternity issues, it reflects the ignorance of the broadcaster.

Over the course of 2 hours, Mr. Montemayor made comments like, "I'm not a racist," several times. In parroting a caller's comment of, "eating the scraps of White America," he continued to sound just the opposite of a racist.

When a caller mentioned Brett Favre's addiction to painkillers, Montemajor jumped all over the caller, because he did not mention his rehabiliation. This was after the caller mentioned the Allen Iverson was found innocent of his charges - and given short thrift by the media.

In one exchange, a well-spoken, knowledgeable caller, reflected how Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams and Ty Cobb, were by many, many accounts going against societal norms in their behaviors, whereas, Henry Aaron and Tiger Woods are by most accurate accounts, ambassadors of their respective games. This caller even reflecting how anti-social personalities exist accross both races. Mr. Montemayor gave him little time and changed his tone to one of boredom and apathy at the caller's comments, and cut him short.

As soon as someone agreed with 'Monty' that these black athletes are products of their environment and make poor choices, then he was happy to talk, berate and analyze using his vast knowledge base. His background from the North side of Chicago, near Wrigley Field, and his brother's police experience, certainly makes him an expert on the plight of African-Americans.

Montemayor spouted off on opportunity existing equally for everyone now. And that some racial profiling exists, but it is not a problem of great concern. (It's unconstitutional, that's all.)

Most of his program reflected a bigoted, biased and uneducated viewpoint on the racial barrier as it still exists. Just because African-Americans can now play baseball, football and basketball at the professional levels, does not mean its all ok and the world is now equal. (In 1946, a black man could not play MLB baseball. College basketball did not embrace an all-black team until 1966.)

To date, there has not been an African-American President or a female president. We've had only 1 Catholic President, and he was assassinated. Never had a Majority Leader of US House or Senator of African-American descendancy. And only in 2006 elections, did we finally have a female, Nancy Pelosi, named as the Speaker of the House. How many Supreme Court Justices have been of African American descent? Two. Clarence Thomas and Thurgood Marshall. At this point, neither as the Chief Justice.

Mr. Montemayor's diatribe about the desparity in behavior (and presumed equality) based on race rings false. The behavior that rings true is how much of this nation is still fighting a war based on the color of their skin and not the reflections in their heart. We imprison African-Americans at approximately 4 1/2 times the rate of White Americans. 1 in 3 African American males have been imprisoned in their lifetimes. Is it because they commit crimes at 4.5 times the rate of whites? No!

They do get 4.5 times the attention in their neighborhoods by police and much, much less support by the community in making it a better place to live. People have heard of white flight because it exists.

In sports or life, why does it matter what color a person is. It doesn't. Why do we bring it up? Because it creates division and gives us a way to categorize a person to evaluate him or her, to stereotype him or her.

One question I'd like to ask Monty: If tomorrow, you woke up and had to choose, and you have to choose, between being of Asian, Mexican, Indian or African-American heritage, which would you choose? (He's White.)

The reason why I would ask is this: if race does not determine anything, it should not matter. But it does and it does make it much more difficult to succeed. I'm not saying it's impossible because a whole host of people have succeeded in overcoming this difficulty. BUT how many more would have reached success if biased and prejudice had not interfered and destroyed their confidence or taken away their unalienable rights?

I won't be listening to the Full Monty or SNR anymore. Because the Full Monty is full of shite.

Profiles in Baseball: Babe Ruth and Satchel Paige

Two men that shaped their respective leagues around their play, and provided huge drawing power based on their personas were Satchel Paige and Babe Ruth. Nothing this author can write in a blog can do justice to their legacies and legend, but the following is an attempt at a brief biography of both men.

Satchel Paige (1906-1982): A man who started his MLB career in his 40’s, Satchel Paige was known for his fastball, illegal hesitation pitch, and coming and going as it suited him. Being a man without country, since he rarely stayed put in one place, Paige was a nice fit on the Cleveland club, led by Bill Veeck Jr., that would win the World Series in 1948. In Satchel’s first three games started in the majors the attendance was a staggering 201,829.[1]

Growing up in Mobile, Alabama, destined to be recognized for his antics, ‘Satchel’ likely earned that moniker via the five-finger discount road that led to five years[1] in Mount Meigs reform school.[2] (Historian Robert Peterson states Paige was nicknamed for carrying the mailbags used by the railroads.) Leroy Paige, like George Herman Ruth did at a Baltimore reformatory, developed into a renowned ballplayer. Both had fathers that were strictly blue-collar: Paige’s was a gardener; Ruth’s ran a bar.

His legend extended well back into 1920’s as a fastball pitcher with little control that got by on overpowering talent. His first seasons were spent deep in the Jim Crow South playing in Mobile, then for the Chattanooga Black Lookouts and Birmingham Black Barons.[3]

As he reached his prime, Satchel’s name would come up in the Negro Leagues (or baseball in general) when asking about who was the best pitcher. His records in the early 1930’s for Pittsburgh Crawfords (32-7 and 31-4), his North Dakota barnstorming tour of 134 wins in 150 contests or his out dueling Schoolboy Rowe and a team of major leaguers reflects just how well he pitched. But beyond the won-loss records, his showmanship and supreme confidence, was both exciting and abrasive.

Paige squabbled with a wide variety of owners over contracts, took stances based on his upbringing and came and went as he desired. Due to his gate attraction, Paige was in constant demand. The Newark Eagles owner Effa Manley obtained a restraining order in 1938 against Paige leaving the country for an opportunity to pitch in Venezuela.[4] Soon after, he went to Mexico instead. He showed up batters by removing his fielders, leaving only him and usually Biz Mackey as his battery mate. (Josh Gibson also caught Satchel.) Those man-to-boy encounters with his ‘bee ball’ or ‘jump ball’ were lopsided in favor of Paige.

He led players in contract jumping – with money (or a car) as the primary motivator. This was only after the low salaries in the Negro Leagues provided the impetus to jump to the Dominican Republic: “if we got the dough that we deserve, we wouldn’t want to run out on anybody.”[5] As usual, money and material things usually made the decision for the HOF pitcher than was later utilized by ever-the-shill owner Charlie O. Finley in the mid 1960’s at a record age of 59 years old. Paige got through those 3 innings with little damage and received a well-deserved pension. Satchel Paige also refused to pitch in towns where he could not lodge or get a meal in a restaurant.[6]

While on his Mexican excursion, a sore arm jeopardized his career where Paige struggled through a couple seasons before coming back to nearly full strength. He added polish – throwing a curve ball, and employing the hesitation pitch – but his Prima Donna act was still intact. He made his way to Kansas City (where he resided at his death in June 1982) and pitched for the Monarchs for much of the 1940’s, when not in the American League.

Robert Leroy Satchel Paige pitched in five decades from 1926 to 1965, likely amassing well over 10,000 innings pitched, more wins than the immortal Cy Young and admiration from competitors and observers alike. Joe DiMaggio, a lifetime .325 hitter, surmised he was the toughest pitcher he ever faced in West Coast exhibitions.[7] Ultimately though, Paige’s free spirit, his fastball and wit made his way and he never looked back.

Satchel Paige’s Famous Words to Live By

1. Avoid fried meats which angry up the blood.
2. If your stomach disputes you, lie down and pacify it with cool thoughts.
3. Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move.
4. Go very light on the vices, such as carrying on in society. The social ramble ain’t restful.
5. Avoid running at all times.
6. Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.[8]

George Herman ‘Babe’ Ruth (1895-1948) was a child of the world, prone to excesses and boastfulness, but dominated the sports world in the 1920’s in a manner hard to compare (or duplicate) in the late 20th - early 21st century sports panorama. Growing up in Baltimore and spending most of his formative years as a ‘incorrigible’ at the St. Mary’s Industrial School for Orphans, Delinquent, Incorrigible and Wayward Boys[1], Ruth learned one lesson there from the priests, and probably one only, how to hit a baseball as far as anyone could envision in those heady days of organized baseball. (Somehow the rest of the ‘lessons’ to be learnt there never took.)

Babe Ruth was placed in this reformatory at age seven as a hyperactive, big and outgoing boy that soon acquired a great desire to play baseball as likely the only positive diversion from his meager assignment as a youthful garment maker. He also obtained a rude moniker that stuck into the 1920’s –‘Nigger Lips’[2] – as McGraw’s New York Giants would jeer during the ‘23 World Series. Later though, his array of nicknames would only add to the Babe’s foggy legacy: The Colossus of Clout, the King of Crash, the Sultan of Swat, the Monster of Mash, The Bambino and a host of others never heard mentioned quite enough, so they faded away foggily, much like Montville Leigh The Big Bam describes of his childhood years.

As it was, George Herman Ruth learned how to hit towering fly balls from Brother Matthias Boutlier (from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia)[3], a burly man that was as large as an offensive tackle in the modern NFL. Boutlier might be the ‘Father of Home Run’ since his fungoe-style hitting was mimicked by the son that mastered the art of swinging skyward in evading outfielders and depositing balls over the fences. With baseball’s domination of his time, Ruth took Boutlier’s lessons to heart and practice them nearly year round, playing everywhere on the field, before someone important took notice.

In 1914, Jack Dunn, the operator of the powerful and influential Baltimore Orioles franchise of the minor league circuit (with the likes of HOF pitcher Lefty Grove playing in the early 1920’s) would acquire the Babe. Jack Dunn had a short career as ballplayer, playing on smarts to make up for a bad arm due to childhood mishap[4], but Dunn made his real mark as talent scout and a big league feeder system of star players for a price. On Valentine’s Day 1914, Ruth was signed as a pitcher sight unseen by Dunn for $250 per month. But before Dunn could reap any real benefits from his acquisition, Dunn was forced into competition with Federal Leagues’ Baltimore Terrapins, and shopped the Babe to Connie Mack and John McGraw, only to eventually sell him to Boston’s owner Joe Lannin.[5]

Within two years, Babe Ruth was a superstar pitcher, leading the league in ERA (1.75) and shutouts (9) in 1916. The Babe though would soon progressed to power hitting as naturally as ducks take to water or owls take to the nocturnal hunt. But as one passage by Montville Leigh weighs Ruth’s pitching prowess versus another ace of the day:

"Matched against Ruth, the emotional, developing reprobate, [Hall of Famer Walter] Johnson easily was cast as the white hat against the black hat, goodness against perdition. The problem was, perdition had a much better team behind him. The two men faced each other five times during the '16 season:" Ruth won four times, 5-1, 1-0, 1-0, 2-1 and had a no decision, but was ahead 2-0 in ninth before getting into trouble. Ruth's record against Johnson from 1915 to 1917 was 6-1.[6]

Even with Ruth then earning his living on the mound, it was his greater potential that sparked conversations early on in May 1917. As Montville Leigh’s Big Bam reflects, “Ruth took Johnson deep for the first time and earned a tailored suit [a favorite item of soothing] in the process. It also saw his future as a Yankee discussed jokingly amongst the principles: Col. Jake Ruppert and Harry Frazee. This as Ruth saw a change in his usage from star pitcher to mediocre first basemen to a Manny Ramirez/Ted Williams style of outfielder later on that season.”[7]

By 1918, Ruth was as dangerous with a bat as he was proficient with pitch. Ed Barrow took on the onerous task of taming the unconventional Ruth, leading to plenty of fights, tantrums and dramas. As Bill James reflects, “Ruth tested the limits of the rules constantly; this was what made him who he was. He refused to be ordinary; he refused to accept that the rules applied to him; until it was clear that they did. Constantly testing the limits of the rules, as I see him, was Babe Ruth’s defining characteristic...”[8] Barrow soon tested but eventually defined Ruth as an outfielder – due in large part to Provost Marshal General Crowder issuing his “work or fight” order in June 1918 – and the Babe led Boston to its last championship until the 21st century, garnering the first of twelve home run titles to boot.

As Ruth’s ability to smack the long ball grew, his desires to get compensation followed in concert. From his 3-year, $10,000 per year contract signed in 1918, Ruth reconsidered for $20,000 after his superior 1919 season in which he smacked 29 home runs, scored 103 times, drove in 114 runs and slugged a then modest .657, all leading the American League by wide margins. Ruth alone hit 12% of the leagues’ home runs. He scored 18.26% of Boston Runs and won 9 games with a ‘mediocre’ 2.97 ERA off the mound in his last significant pitching season.

His theatrical owner, Harry Frazee, refused to pay Ruth and demeaned the man’s recent exploits, citing his petulant and decadent behaviors as barriers to his future production, resulting in (likely) the most infamous trade ever made in baseball history. Three days into the Roarin’ Twenties, the Babe went to the New York Yankees for $425,000 (in total cash transferred, since $300,000 was a loan), and his hitting prowess would result in the biggest affect in baseball scoring until President Clinton took office 72 seasons later.

The cost of the Babe’s trade [in 2005 dollars] is roughly $1,357,500 (without the loan), a bargain to say the least. As Leigh Montville compares the Babe’s salary: "A conversion system from the American Institute of Economics Research translates the Babe's [contract in 1922 of] $52,000 into $564,737.43 in 2005 dollars. Only two members of the 2005 New York Yankees, outfielder Bubba Crosby at $322,950 and second baseman Andy Phillips at $317,000, made less than $564,737.43…[For the Babe] to make the same amount in 1922 dollars as Alex Rodriguez, Ruth would have had to sign for $2,246,913.58. Baseball simply didn't pay that kind of money."[1] Frazee’s $1,357,500 [in 2005 dollars] for the loss of 659 home runs, works out to just less than $2,060 per dinger. Even in the 1920’s, this amount was easily made up at the gate for a $.50 ticket, a typical seat price. Frazee soon sold numerous other players between 1921-1923, including HOF pitcher Waite Hoyt, SP Joe Bush and SP Herb Pennock, only to build his rival to unparalleled success.

Yankee Stadium became the "House that Ruth Built" as his home run prowess, championships brought to the New York (after leaving Boston) and his image grew to be baseball's iconoclast. He found adulation, but not love. He longed to manage, but never did in the majors. Babe Ruth's immortality grows from the stories of his bombastic, devil-may-care nature, but his numbers (714) and (3) are remembered forever.

Even Barry Bonds, who just passed the Babe referred to passage of the Babe as "his home run record." Barry must be mistaken since Henry Aaron has long since held the NL (and MLB) record - the only ones Barry can break. Ruth's HR record in the American League is still secure until Alex Rodriguez grows five years older.

Both these men defied convention; grew up in low circumstances; and, fought the powers-that-be in baseball on numerous occasions. Likely, the two would have squared off with each other in much the same way, with the result a matter of a fan's dream and fancy. But respect was something both would command of each other in such a fantastic meeting.

Footnotes:

[1] Peterson Robert. Only the Ball Was White. London: Prentice-Hall International, Inc.; 1970. 140.[1] Peterson Robert. Only the Ball Was White. London: Prentice-Hall International, Inc.; 1970. 140.[2] http://www.nlbemuseum.com/history/players.html - Biography of Robert Leroy ‘Satchel’ Paige. Last Accessed: February 10,2007.[3] http://www.nlbemuseum.com/history/players.html - Biography of Robert Leroy ‘Satchel’ Paige. Last Accessed: February 10,2007.[4] Lanctot N. Negro League Baseball: The Rise and Ruin of a Black Institution. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press; 2004. 74.[5] Lanctot N. Negro League Baseball: The Rise and Ruin of a Black Institution. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press; 2004. 73.[6] Only The ball Was White - pg. 10[7] http://www.nlbemuseum.com/history/players.html - Biography of Robert Leroy ‘Satchel’ Paige. Last Accessed: February 10,2007.[8] O’Neil B, Wulf S, Conrads D, Burns K. I Was Right on Time. New York: Simon & Schuster Inc.; 1996. 220.
[1] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 17.
[2] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 21.
[3] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 24.
[4] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 34.
[5] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 39-40.
[6] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 56-57.
[7] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 2006. 69.
[8] James Bill. The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract: The Classic – Completely Revised. New York: The Free Press; 2001. 998 p.

[1] Montville Leigh. The Big Bam: The Life and Times of Babe Ruth. New York: Doubleday; 200. 147.