Joe DiMaggio: The Reluctant Hero

The ‘Yankee Clipper’ - Joe DiMaggio

Joe DiMaggio was amongst the greatest ballplayers I ever saw.

I often saw him at Yankee Stadium, the most difficult centre-field in the major leagues- the only field inhabited by granite monuments on the field.

I can picture him now, gliding gracefully, seemingly on his way before the bat and ball had connected, weaving through those pillars.

I never saw him slide or dive to make a catch; he was always there, making Willie Mays’ catches before Mays was born or there were TV cameras to immortalise them.

At the bat he was motionless, standing straight up. You could put a dime on the end of the bat and it wouldn’t drop until he swung. His front foot barely moved when he started his short-level swing.

In 6,821 times at bat, he struck out 369 times and hit 361 home runs- an unbelievable ratio in today’s game.

No baseball star of the past 100 years attracted more attention and popularity- and wanted it less than Joe DiMaggio.

After just two years in the major leagues, in 1938 he outraged the nation by holding out for what was then an unimaginable salary of $48,000.

Three years later, he enthralled us all while hitting safely in 56 straight games.

He brought us to our feet when he came back from injuries to lead the New York Yankees to pennants in 1949, 1950 and 1951, and he titillated us when he married the incredible Marilyn Monroe in 1954.

The man was a legend!

Joe DiMaggio’s Introduction to Baseball

Ironically, this flawless baserunner, perfect outfielder and consummate professional had to be dragged to the playground as a kid.

Unlike many others who played in San Francisco playgrounds to earn their spot in major leagues, DiMaggio was indifferent to the game.

Baseball was just a way for DiMaggio to avoid helping his father clean the fishing boats.

“When he was 15-16 years old, we played semipro ball for the Rossi Olive Oils and the Sunset Merchants, and Joe was the whole team,” said Dario Lodigiani, Joe’s junior high teammate who became a journeyman infielder with the Philadelphia Athletics and Chicago White Sox.

“But he didn’t bust himself to get to the field. In fact, if we didn’t go get him for a game, he wouldn’t even show up.”

DiMaggio excelled at football and basketball too. However, he wasn’t interested enough to stay in school to play, and he quit in the tenth grade.

He didn’t want anything to do with fishing like his father, and he got a job squeezing oranges at a juice stand, before working in a box factory.

His brother Vince was an outfielder with the San Francisco Seals of the Pacific Coast League. Joe tagged along with him one day in the fall of 1932. The Seals needed a shortstop for the last three games of the season. Vince pushed Joe into the lineup.

He hit a triple in his first at-bat and he was invited to a tryout camp. The Seals were not impressed with his infield prowess, but they could tell he was a natural hitter.

They signed him for $225 a month, and DiMaggio decided that playing ball was easier (and more rewarding) than the box factory.

The Height of DiMaggio’s Career

At 18, DiMaggio earned his first dose of attention by hitting in 61 straight games for the Seals in 1933. He was already a wind-up player who automatically did his job to perfection and without flair.

Many writers have called him “deadpan.” The only emotion he would ever show on a diamond was in Game 6 of the 1947 World Series.

When Brooklyn outfielder Al Gionfriddo (who had broken the wrong way, then reversed himself) robbed him of a game-tying home run with a leaping catch. DiMaggio scuffed up a puff of dirt with his foot as he neared second base.

With any other player, this would have gone unnoticed, but the scene remains a classic as a rare instance of the Yankee Clipper’s lapse in composure.

With the Seals, DiMaggio missed half of the 1934 season when a knee popped out of place as he was stepping out of a car. That scared off most big league scouts, but the Yankees gambled by paying $25,000 and five players for him.

Joe came back to hit 398 in 1935 and headed to New York as a shy, uneasy 21-year-old high school dropout. Veteran pitcher Lefty Gomez, another Bay Area native, took the rookie in tow.

They roomed and ran together, the stoic rookie and the glib-lipped, fun-loving Gomez, whose gags and yarns regaled the boys at Toots Shor’s.

Joe DiMaggio’s Personality

It has been said that DiMaggio must have had a great sense of humour if he hung around with Gomez. However, DiMaggio was basically a loner and he came to the ballpark alone, dressed alone and left alone after the game.

To avoid crowds and fawning fans, he usually ordered room service on the road and he ate alone in his hotel room. In his own quiet way, he made his presence felt among the Yankees.

One day, when a rookie Yogi Berra was walking out to his outfield position, DiMaggio trotted by him and said quietly, “Up here we run.”

Outfielder Gene Woodling said, “In the clubhouse, if Joe didn’t like something, he didn’t have to say anything. He just had to look at you. Didn’t say ten words all season.”

“Joe never got after anybody,” said Tommy Henrich, who played alongside him in right field. “He minded his own business. If he got disgusted it was aimed at himself. I never saw him angry.

A couple times pitchers threw at him . . . If they pitched him six inches inside, he would just turn his shoulder to avoid the pitch. Never even move his feet.”

Even the loss of his favourite bat during the 56-game didn’t faze Joe DiMaggio.

After he matched George Sisler’s 41-game record in the first game of a doubleheader in Washington, between games somebody stole the bat he had used in every game.

DiMaggio calmly picked up a new bat and broke the record- and the stolen bat was later returned.

His most prized possession was the tattered pancake glove he had started out with in San Francisco- and somebody swiped that, too!

During a World Series game in Philadelphia in 1950, DiMaggio ducked into the runway behind the dugout for a quick smoke. When it was time to go up to bat, he handed the cigarette to a Philadelphia cop on security duty.

“Hold this for me. I’ll be right back,” he said. When he returned, the cop refused to give back the butt. He kept it as a souvenir until it disintegrated. The cop was actually Frank Rizzo, who became mayor of Philadelphia.

Joe DiMaggio in Later Life

DiMaggio left baseball after the 1951 season, but his popularity seemed to keep growing. He matured and lost some of his shyness.

As he aged, his silvering hair gave him a dignified image and he became a television spokesperson for a bank and for Mr. Coffee.

When his contract expired, he quit drinking the stuff but he remained a shadowy celebrity. DiMaggio had been married once, to an actress named Dorothy Arnold. They had one son, Joe Jr. It lasted a few years and ended as quietly as it had begun.

Then, in 1954 Joe married Marilyn Monroe.

He must have known that he was entering the public eye by marrying this icon, and photographers trailed the couple like bloodhounds. Monroe was surrounded by movie people, deals and publicity.

When they split up after nine months, more than one hundred reporters were camped outside their house. Joe remained a devoted friend until her death.

As he grew older, DiMaggio was more relaxed with people. He was present at Camden Yards in Baltimore on the night of September 6, 1995, when Cal Ripken Jr. broke the Major League consecutive game streak of his onetime Yankee teammate Lou Gehrig.

After the game, in the runway leading to the clubhouses, he stood patiently, graciously signing autographs.

He became more voluble with radio interviewers and willingly talked about baseball with reporters at the many golf tournaments and banquets he attended. However, if anyone mentioned Marilyn Monroe, he froze.

DiMaggio was invited to participate in old-timers’ games, and he would not put on a uniform or take a turn at bat.

He was too proud to allow himself to look awkward or foolish and mar the memory of the picture of perfection he had been in Yankee pinstripes.

Instead, he would put in an appearance, arriving at the ballpark in time to walk out and wave at the crowd, then get back in the car and be driven away.

Final Thoughts on The Great Joe DiMaggio

Unlike Ted Williams, who was born with the desire to be the world’s greatest hitter and enjoyed the camaraderie of ballplayers- especially hitters- until the end, Joe DiMaggio achieved more than he sought.

He lived with a popularity that he never wanted, was never comfortable with, and could not escape.