EDDIE WELLS: I was very fortunate. I played for some doggone good managers. My first day at spring training in 1929 Miller Huggins told me my job was set and just go about my business. Man, that was like music to my ears. That took a lot of the pressure off, not having to worry too much about holding a job on the pitching staff.

The season opened and I just sat on the bench. Then one day Hug saddled up to me on the bench and out of the clear blue sky said, "Ed, you're gonna pitch tomorrow." Well, we were playing the White Sox at the stadium and I pitched against Ted Lyons. Anyway, I beat him 1-0 in an hour and twenty-eight minutes.

Well, we had a mediocre ball club. I won thirteen, lost nine. Then near the end of the season Hug became ill while we were playing Cleveland a doubleheader. The doctor told him to go to a hospital, and a week later little Hug died of blood poisoning. That was sad, it sure was. Ol' Hug, everybody liked him.

Bob Shawkey was my manager in 1930. He was a mighty fine fellow. We got along fine. I won twelve ball games that year and lost three. But somehow the Yankees didn't click. Philadelphia had the ball club then, and they were plenty tough. Connie Mack gave all the clubs a fit that year. Same thing in '31, when Joe McCarthy was our manager.

That Joe McCarthy, he was a real gentleman. He treated me fair. This is how fair Joe McCarthy was. In the latter part of '32, I wasn't pitching. We had a lead of twelve, fifteen games and we had a bunch of young fellas pitchin' -- Lefty Gomez, Atley Donald. Lord, I didn't have a chance. One day the coach, Art Fletcher, come up to me and said, "Ed, Joe told me to tell you, you don't have to worry about not getting a share of the World Series money."

We really hit the jackpot that World Series. We played the Cubs. Beat 'em four straight. The Yankees had sold Mark Koenig, our shortstop, to the Cubs the latter part of the season. Koenig was a fine fellow, but we thought the Cubs had shorted him in the World Series shares. We rode them something terrible about that. When we hit Chicago and went to the Edgewater Beach Hotel, we really got a blast from the street fans. Babe was mainly their target.

» Ruth's "called shot" is part of baseball mythology. Observers are divided over what they really saw, but the best evidence suggests that Ruth merely gestured with his hand to indicate that he still had one swing left. Given the era and Root's ornery reputation, had Ruth really tried to show up the Chicago pitcher, the next pitch would have been directed straight at his head.

Anyway, come the third game and Charlie Root is pitchin' for Chicago. All the Cub players were out on the bench railing, really riding Babe. Root pitched a strike and Babe stepped out of the batter's box and held up one finger. Root pitched another strike and Babe held up two fingers for two strikes. Then Babe motioned with his arm to the center-field bleachers, that he was going to hit the next pitch there for a home run, see.

Well, the Cubs really gave Babe the hah-hah. Root pitched the ball and -- dad-gone! -- Babe got hold of it and hit it into the center-field bleachers! That's right. I saw it. Well, the Yankee bench went wild, and when Babe rounded third base he tipped his cap to the Cubs' bench. Man, it was like a turtle had just pulled its head back into its shell, that's how quiet that Chicago bench got. In the locker room, Babe just broke down and cried. That's how happy he was.

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