Babb's way

It's an overcast and cold Saturday. That dank, sneaky kind of cold that slips through any openings in your outerwear. Baseball players are nicknamed the "Boys of Summer," but never mind that. When you play college ball, the season starts in winter.

Such were the conditions on the afternoon of Feb. 22, for the Johns Hopkins baseball team's home opener against the St. John Fisher University Cardinals—blue birds vs. red ones. As a Cardinals coach launches pregame fly balls to his outfielders, the ping of the metal bat competes with music blaring from loudspeakers around nearby Homewood Field, where the men's lacrosse team just lost a nail-biter to North Carolina.

You could say Hopkins' NCAA Division III baseball program, figuratively and literally, lives in the shadow of lacrosse, the university's sole Division I sport (women's and men's) and the athletic program most associated with Hopkins. Of course, Blue Jays baseball supporters feel differently. The sport's 260-seat grandstand might be smaller, but not the enthusiasm of the folks filling it. Even on a gloomy afternoon when knit hats are more practical than ballcaps. "You always get a special kick on opening day no matter how many you go through," said Yankee great Joe DiMaggio. "You look forward to it like a birthday party when you're a kid."

Play ball!

After Hopkins' hard-throwing right-hander Kieren Collins holds the visitors to a scoreless one-hit first inning, the Blue Jays go on offense. Junior outfielder Alex Shane, in the No. 2 hole, launches a long ball that bounds over the right-field fence onto University Parkway. Keenly watching it all is baseball head coach Bob Babb, A&S '77, wearing a batting helmet and fighting the chill in a three-quarter-length jacket. Before sending Jacob Harris, a junior outfielder, into the batter's box, Babb pats him on the back, as if to say: OK, son, keep your eye on the ball and wait for your pitch.

It's a simple gesture, one you can imagine him making to a nervous batter during the first baseball game he ever coached for Hopkins, a 5-4 win over Wilkes University. But here's the thing: That was in 1980. The young men Babb sent to the plate with a pat back then, when Jimmy Carter was in the White House, are probably now silver-haired retirees taking their grandkids to T-ball games.

This is Babb's 46th season as head coach, an incredible feat of dedication and commitment. What's more, the Johns Hopkins baseball team has never had a losing season under his tutelage. Not one. His 13-12 finish in 1989 is the closest Babb has yet come to a sub-500 season, and his overall winning percentage is .729. He's the winningest active head baseball coach in Division III.

But his reign ends. Last year, with his 70th birthday looming and a bum knee slowing him down, Babb announced that he'd retire after this season. (So as not to create a distraction, the search for his replacement won't kick off until after this season's final out.) One thing is certain: This is his last opening day. The beginning of the end. Is there a lump in his throat? "No, I'm not even thinking about all that now," Babb says in a quick pregame chat. "Nothing is any different. I think as the season winds down, that could change. Come ask me on my last game."

Today's baseball program is almost unrecognizable from the one Babb inherited more than four decades ago. His players used to line up before practices to walk across a scruffy diamond picking up stray rocks. There were no dugouts, batting cages, or scoreboard. Fan amenities consisted of a trio of rickety aluminum bleachers. These days, the rocks are long gone. There's not even any dirt, as both infield and outfield are covered in the same synthetic materials the bigger collegiate programs use. The handsome baseball facility, which opened in 2015, is called Babb Field at Stromberg Stadium. Lights were added for night games in 2018.

The outfield walls (something else that didn't exist back in the day) are emblazoned with the team's postseason prowess, listing all the years the program went to NCAA tournaments, won conference titles, or played in regionals, super regionals, and the College World Series (six appearances, including two down-to-the-wire second-place finishes). It's a thicket of accomplishments. And Babb was at the helm for all of them, save the team's 1976 NCAA tournament appearance when Babb played on that bicentennial Blue Jays team—a speedy shortstop then with a penchant for base stealing.

Hard to believe now, but in addition to coaching winning baseball, Babb spent 20 years as an assistant football coach. Bill Stromberg, Engr '82, the retired CEO of investment management giant T. Rowe Price and a member of the university's board of trustees, was a dual-sport standout while at Homewood and played for him on both gridiron and diamond. "Bob is a quiet leader, not a yeller, but he has very high standards for what he wants his players to be both on and off the field," Stromberg says. "His secret sauce is a relentless focus on improving every aspect of what you do and putting the odds in your favor. I learned a lot from him, and that has carried over for me into business."

Stromberg has a permanent reminder of the grubby old field: a chipped tooth from a ball making a wonky infield bounce. It's partly why he was a major donor to the baseball facility upgrades where his and Babb's names are now conjoined. That Stromberg batted his last baseball more than 40 years ago has no bearing on his ongoing enthusiasm for the program. And this, too, is Babb's handiwork. "Hopkins baseball is a family affair, and Bob works hard on this continuity across generations," Stromberg says. "He keeps people coming back year after year to watch games and stay connected with the program, which gives it a real positive aura."

When the Baltimore Orioles dominated major league ball in the 1960s and '70s, much was made of the Oriole Way, a near-mythical philosophy guiding their play.

So, is there a Babb Way? Read on.

Babb's office in the Newton White Athletic Center looks like a homespun baseball museum. The cinderblock room is chockablock with baseball trophies, awards, signed baseballs, ceremonial bats, and team photos. A prized possession is a homemade wooden bat he was presented with during the team's 1988 goodwill visit to then Soviet Moscow to play ball with the Mendeleyev University of Chemical Technology. "This says baseball," Babb says of the Cyrillic writing on its flanks. But there is more to this Russian lumber. Twist the handle and … voilà, it opens to reveal a small bottle of vodka.

Babb says his earliest baseball memory is playing in a youth league at age 5. This was in his sports-mad hometown of Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, where his dad was a multisport high school coach and Babb grew up playing baseball, football, and basketball. It was the latter that brought him to Hopkins because the school's basketball coach at the time was from Bloomsburg and Babb's hoops skills got noticed.

He initially saw Hopkins as a steppingstone to law school and a life competing in courtrooms. While a knee injury limited his collegiate basketball play, Babb spent four years on the Hopkins baseball team, which made it to the NCAA finals his junior year. After graduating with a bachelor's degree, he taught high school social studies for a couple of years to raise money for law school. Babb also returned to Homewood as a volunteer assistant coach to Danny Cox, then coaching both the baseball and football teams. And something clicked. "After two years, I decided I didn't want to go to law school anymore," Babb says. "I wanted to be a college coach."

He got his chance in 1980 when Cox stepped down and Babb was handed the baseball job. He was barely older than his players, some of whom he'd played alongside when they were first years. "Even then, he had this quiet leadership style about him that was very effective," says Anton Dahbura, Engr '81, '82 (MSE), '84 (PhD), a second baseman on Babb's first team who's now an associate research scientist in the Whiting School's Department of Computer Science. Nicknamed "Tony Baseball," Dahbura once co-owned a minor league team, developed baseball-scheduling software the minor leagues use, and leads the Johns Hopkins University Sports Analytics Research Group that counts the Orioles among its many clients (and Hopkins students among its researchers).

"[Babb's] coaching style is a good mesh for the outstanding student-athletes we get at Hopkins— students who aren't necessarily going to thrive with a coach that's yelling and screaming at them all the time," Dahbura says. "The players respond to reason, not confrontation and putdowns. His personality is perfect in this sense."

Another veteran of those early rocks on the infield years is Brad Rosborough, A&S '80, a retired health care executive from Los Angeles who spent four years as Blue Jay outfielder, playing alongside Babb and later being coached by him. "My high school baseball field was much nicer than what we had at Hopkins," he says. "And we had just a few baseballs for every game, so if there was a foul ball hit, somebody had to go chase it to bring it back."

He admits that it was "a little awkward" at first when Babb moved from player to coach but recalls that Babb's coaching father, John Babb, came down to help. "Bob emphasized teamwork and being aspirational about what goals you could achieve, and those are great life lessons to move forward outside of baseball," Rosborough says. "In the end, we all respected him as a player and coach."

Rosborough was also among the players who raised money for the team by working concessions during Orioles games at old Memorial Stadium. (The drinking age was 18 then, so college students slinging Natty Boh wasn't frowned upon.) After a 2017 visit to Homewood, he became lead donor on the campaign to have the lights installed. "It's incredible to see what [Babb] has built, and that's why I feel strongly about contributing back," he says. "I certainly wouldn't want anybody else having to play the way we had to."

Babb's coaching ability is matched only by his tenacity at fundraising, and not just for major projects like the new field and lights but everyday needs not supported by the university. For instance, while his very first team had only 18 members, today his roster routinely tops 40. Babb needs coaching help, and the pay for his one full-time assistant coach and handful of part-timers comes entirely from donations. "I'm fortunate in that I have so many loyal former players who every year will contribute money so that I am able to pay for the assistant coaches and am able to buy special things that we need such as a portable mound," Babb says. (He worries that his replacement, even if continuing to win on the field, won't be able to tap into his decades of personal relationships to keep the donations flowing.)

Nothing succeeds like success. Early on, Babb's terse message to baseball recruits became "come to Hopkins and win." But filling his roster is not a simple affair. Each year nearly 400 Division III baseball programs scramble to recruit the nation's best high school players. But for Babb, most of these prospects are off-limits. He can't even look at them. There are no scholarships available, and, as he puts it, "Hopkins isn't going to accept a C-minus student."

Babb says many of the academically high-achieving ballplayers he recruits are also considering Ivy League schools and Division I baseball. "I tell them that you can play in the Ivies, but you are not going have the chance to compete for a championship like we do here," Babb says. (Yale's 1948 appearance in the College World Series was the Ivy League's last.) This message landed for junior pitcher Ryan Anderson, who had looked at several elite schools and Division I programs. "The academic excellence here at Hopkins combined with the history of winning baseball is really special," he says. "I think it's a lot more fun to win at the Division III level than to play at the Division I level and just kind of scrape through a season."

While Blue Jay baseball might never be a pipeline to the major leagues, Hopkins has sent two players to The Show: Otis Stockdale pitched for the 1890s Orioles, and Dave Leonhard threw for the O's in the late 1960s and early '70s. But in the Babb era, nearly 20 of his former players have gone on to play professionally for minor or independent league teams. Pitcher Josh Hejka, A&S '19, who notched seven saves for Babb his senior year, is currently tossing in the Phillies' farm system.

But there is more than one way to earn a living wearing a uniform on a ball field. Dan Merzel, Engr '09, has been a professional umpire since 2011 and was promoted to full-time, major league ump last year. He says he came to Hopkins for the academics, and though he played more hockey than baseball in high school, after an encouraging chat with Babb, he became a walk-on outfielder. The team won the Centennial Conference tournament his junior year, and Merzel was named most valuable player. "I had a very positive experience at Hopkins and tried to take advantage of the opportunities Babb provided me," Merzel says.

He has since interacted with dozens of different coaches, including a few hotheads, and appreciates Babb's even-keeled approach. "Coach [Babb] is proud of how he treats people and that goes into how he treats the umpires as well," Merzel adds. "He's a very intelligent arguer. While I've never umpired one of his games, I could imagine when he gets upset, it's almost like arguing with a disappointed father."

A dozen or more Blue Jay baseballers followed Babb into coaching careers, including Dave Beccaria, A&S '96, head baseball coach for Centennial Conference rival Haverford College since 2000. He played infield for Babb and spent a year after graduation working for him as assistant coach. "I felt like I got a great baseball education on top of getting a world-class education in the classroom," Beccaria says. Taking copious notes during games is just one coaching habit he picked up from Babb. "He always demonstrated a mastery of strategic, tactical thinking and preparedness for just about any situation that can come up," Beccaria adds. "He has a feel for high-leverage moments and knowing how to respond at key points in the game."

In the season's early going, a chilly dreariness hung on to Baltimore way too long. But by mid-April, the weather warmed and the team's bats, well, they were already hot as the Jays are once again the dominant team in the 11-member Centennial League and ultimately were ranked the top-seeded team in the nation. The storybook ending to this story would have been Babb's finally winning a World Series (alas, the team made it to the finals but was bested by Kean University). Success is to be expected of any Babb team, but this one more than most. The core of last season's team, which finished 35-11 and went to the NCAA super regionals, is mostly back in uniform. The biggest surprise has been on the bump, where sophomore starting pitcher Drew Grumbles has been lights-out en route to a team-leading 1.75 ERA and eight wins.

Ask today's players what they think of their skipper, and you'll get a host of eager replies: "He's an encyclopedia of baseball knowledge … he connects with players and knows exactly what each guy needs to get going … he's seen it all before and nothing really fazes him … he just has a presence."

They'll also chuckle about Babb's rampant superstitiousness (an assistant coach needs to eat a Reese's Cup before each game, for example) and his penchant for sometimes calling players the wrong names (understandable after 46 years of dealing with young men in numbered uniforms). But he's far from some wizened, unapproachable baseball guru. Babb and his wife, Gilly, frequently host the whole team at their Baltimore home. (Gilly has been a sort of team mom since the early days and is nicknamed "the Commissioner.") "It just makes you closer to the coach and it's very welcoming," says senior pitcher Tyler Sugrim. "It's a great end-of-year kind of a thing, too."

Speaking of which, it was a sunny 74 degrees on Friday, April 25, for the team's final regular season home game. To mark the occasion, Maryland Gov. Wes Moore, A&S '01, wearing a Built by Homewood T-shirt, is on hand to throw out the first pitch. Moore, a wide receiver on the Blue Jays football team during his time at Hopkins, knows Babb from his days as assistant football coach. "Coach Babb is an institution," Moore says, while mingling with fans before the game. The stands are packed as the team busily warms up in the field in their starch-white pants and light blue tops. There's an opening day buzz— minus the chill.

Babb sits alone on a dugout folding chair going over his lineup, circling some names, crossing out others. Which of his players match up best with today's opponents, the Washington College Shoremen? He checks his notes. Makes more decisions.

OK, here we are, Coach, your last regular-season game. What's going through your mind? "It doesn't feel any different than any other day," Babb says. "It's just baseball, and we're out here to play and the routine's always the same."

This time next year, Babb won't be in a dugout. He might be spending time with his grandson or organizing his 200,000 baseball cards. But this is not on his mind now. Even the governor posing for selfies in the stands is no distraction. There's a baseball game to play. Keep calm and carry on.

The Babb Way.