Babe Ruth’s Secret Therapist
By Michael Kaufman
Mike Pelfrey, ace-by-default pitcher for the New York Mets, deserves to be congratulated for his candor in discussing his relationship with the late sports psychologist Harvey Dorfman. According to reports in the New York sports pages, Pelfrey was devastated when he learned of Dorfman’s passing on Feb. 28. No longer would he hear Dorfman’s words of inspiration on those dark mornings the day after a rough start. If Pelfrey’s early-season outings are any indication, Mets fans can expect many of those this season.
As noted by baseball writer Steve Popper in Tuesday’s editions, “Pelfrey was anointed as the Mets’ No. 1 starter this winter with Johan Santana sidelined for at least the first half of the season and if the pressure might have gotten to the nervous right-hander he then went out on opening day and struggled badly. He followed that up with another bad performance in Philadelphia. Monday he was improved, if still far from where he wants to be and where the Mets need him to be.”
Pelfrey says that when he spoke with Dorfman, “I laid it all out. It wasn’t just baseball. I talked to Harvey about my wife, about being a father, about past girlfriends….I talked to him about everything in life. Obviously that relationship is gone.” He says he hopes to establish a similar relationship with the new therapist recommended by his agent Scott Boras.
Pelfrey’s openness is a far cry from the secrecy that surrounded Babe Ruth’s therapy sessions with Hans Krumholz, a psychoanalyst who spoke of the Yankee slugger as “George R.” in a letter to Sigmund Freud seeking advice. A copy of the letter was forwarded to Zest of Orange by Ralph Krumholz of Warwick, a great grandson of the little-known therapist.
“I never knew much about my great grandfather other than that he had been a psychoanalyst and that our family has kept an envelope addressed to him by Freud…and that it has a letter in it,” Ralph explained. “I looked at it once a long time ago and I was disappointed: Freud had simply returned a letter my great grandfather had written to him with a brief note at the top saying, ‘I’m sorry but your name doesn’t ring a bell.’
“I didn’t bother to read further and only recently took the time to read what my great grandfather wrote to Freud. I was stunned when I realized that he had once been Babe Ruth’s secret therapist.”
“Dear Dr. Freud,” began the letter from Hans Krumholz. “You may remember me because I was your patient when I was a little boy. Back then I had a phobia about horses. Today I have a lucrative psychotherapy practice of my own in a suburb not far from Vienna. I am writing to ask your advice regarding a patient referred to me by an acquaintance, the team doctor of a professional sports club in America. The doctor is concerned about the patient’s habitual abuse of alcohol (which he says the patient thinks enhances his performance). The patient, George R, is apparently one of the best practitioners in the sport of baseball, about which I knew very little prior to this case.
“I am now familiar enough with the game to appreciate that it is fraught with homoerotic implications. The teams take turns at bat using large wooden phallic symbols to attempt to hit a ball thrown by an opposing player. The hitter stands at “home” and this is also the place where points (or “runs” as they are called) are scored. There are a number of ways in which the bat wielders can help their team score runs. The most dramatic is the hitting of a “home run” and it is in this aspect of the game that George R. excels.
“A large and I daresay overweight man compared to the image one might expect of a great athlete, George uses the thickest and heaviest bat of all the players on his team. Unlike many other batters he grips the bat firmly at the base of the shaft rather than “choke up” on it to get more but less powerful or significant hits. In this manner he hits many home runs, which makes him a huge favorite among the game’s aficionados.
“Yet despite his great success, George R. has an extremely weak and fragile ego. In one of our first sessions he confided that he has small feet for a man of his size and that as a result he thinks he looks ‘funny’ when he runs or trots around the bases after hitting a home run and other players make fun of him. I would hazard to guess he has similar fears regarding the size of his widdler. This seems an area worthy of further exploration in therapy.
“Also worthy of exploration is the symbolism of “home” in his chosen sport. George R. was sent away from his own home at age 7 after becoming “too much of a handful” for his busy parents. Young as he was, he was often found wandering the dockyards, drinking, chewing tobacco, and taunting the local constabulary. His beleaguered parents sent him to St. Mary’s Industrial School for Boys, a Catholic orphanage and reformatory that became his home for the next 12 years.
“While at the orphanage, young George particularly looked up to a monk named Brother Mathias, who he says became a father figure to him. Mathias and several other monks introduced him to baseball. By the time he was 19, his baseball skills had caught the attention of Jack Dunn, owner of a minor league team. Because George was still too young to sign a professional contract without an adult guardian, Dunn became his legal guardian. This led teammates to jokingly call him “Dunn’s new babe.” The joke stuck, and George quickly earned the nickname ‘Babe.’ At least that is George’s explanation. I have a feeling there may be more here than meets the eye.
“George mentioned that he is sometimes so comfortable standing at home and awaiting a pitch that he can actually visualize where he will hit the ball for a home run. I suggested that it would be a good boost to his ego if he pointed to the spot before the pitch so everyone in attendance could see for themselves. I was delighted when he followed my advice….but he told me later that he will never do it again. When I asked why he grumbled, ‘because the pitchers would use my head for target practice.’ I wonder what he meant by that.
“He also rejected my suggestion to remain at home plate for a few moments to watch the flight of any ball he thinks will be a home run. ‘Nobody will ever get away with that in baseball,’ he said flatly. Finally, he grew angry and uttered a vulgar term referring to female anatomy when I suggested that he pump his fists and raise his arms while trotting around the bases after a home run: ‘Bush!’
“I would be most grateful if you can help me understand why George would say such a thing. I would also welcome any suggestions you may have as to the appropriate avenue to pursue next with him. Do you think this would be a good time for us to talk about his widdler?”
Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com
Tags: Michael Kaufman
