Class On and Off the Field

They call Yankee Stadium the House That Ruth Built, but in the late 1930s and the 1940s Joe DiMaggio owned it. He roamed center field with an innate grace, gliding more than dashing, standing in perfect position as the ball dropped into his glove. He was equally smooth swinging a bat and running the bases. Hit the home run and circle the bases; don’t stop and admire. No styling, no attitude. Elegant. Professional.

DiMaggio, who died Monday at age 84, is in the Baseball Hall of Fame, of course. And in Hemingway’s novel “The Old Man and the Sea,” where the fisherman thinks of “the great DiMaggio.” He’s also in Paul Simon’s song “Mrs. Robinson,” in the lyric, “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you. . . . Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away.” Intensely concerned about his image, DiMaggio was relieved when Simon told him the lyric was not an insult.

DiMaggio grew up in San Francisco, the son of Italian immigrants. His father, a fisherman, expected his sons to follow in his footsteps. Remarkably, three DiMaggio brothers played major league baseball, with Dom a stalwart of the Boston Red Sox for more than a decade and Vince a journeyman on several teams.

During the Depression, Joe brought joy to the country. You could hate the Yankees; most people did. But you couldn’t hate the marvelous center fielder wearing the number 5 on his back.

His record of hitting safely in 56 consecutive games has stood for 58 years. He was class personified on the field; he exhibited the same class in retirement. He married Hollywood star Marilyn Monroe, was divorced, spared us the details.

True, he did television ads for Mr. Coffee and a bank and signed his name at autograph shows. But he refused to cooperate with biographers and turned down a multimillion-dollar offer for a tell-all book.

Elegant and aloof, DiMaggio valued his privacy. Teammates say he often preferred to eat alone. Friends said it was because he was shy, concerned about a lack of education.

DiMaggio was fortunate to play in an era when it was easier to protect one’s privacy. Television was just breaking into American homes when he retired in 1951 after helping the Yankees take the World Series once again, one of nine Series wins for Joe, a staggering number.

A famous newsreel shows DiMaggio being robbed of a home run on a fantastic catch in the 1947 World Series against the Brooklyn Dodgers. He kicks the dirt in disgust. That’s it. He doesn’t throw his hat on the ground. He doesn’t break a bat over his knee.

DiMaggio was known for playing to the limit no matter how far ahead the Yankees were in the standings or the game. When someone asked him why, he replied: “There might be someone in the stands today who never saw me play before.”

DiMaggio retired at 36, a fan favorite across the country. He traveled with Monroe when she performed for American troops in Korea. “You never heard such cheering,” she told him.

“Yes, I have,” he said.