Ingraham is reporting that Feller has passed away. I haven't read any confirmation on this elsewhere:
Indians great Bob Feller, 92, passes away
Thursday, December 9, 2010
By JIM INGRAHAM
[email protected]
Now THAT’S a life.
It’s a good thing Bob Feller lived it, because you couldn’t make up a life like his. He was the one and only. The greatest Cleveland Indian of them all.
An incomparable, unconquerable American original, Feller, who came roaring out of the Iowa cornfields nearly a 100 years ago, died quietly yesterday at the age of 92, ending a life spectacularly lived.
We will see baseball greatness again. We will see ultra-patriots again. We will see indefatigable nonagenarians again. But as an entire package, as a preposterously precocious, fire-balling teenager, shameless, selfless, flag-waving veteran and conscience of a generation, indestructible, self-promoting, one-man cottage memorabilia industry, civic treasure, national sports icon and, in his twilight years, an irrepressibly out-spoken molder of, contributor to, and shoot-from-the-hip commentator on The American Scene as a proudly old-school celebrity without portfolio — no. We will not see his like again. Ever.
Today, for the first time since Woodrow Wilson was in the White House, Bob Feller is not among us.
What a grand and glorious run it was.
He seemingly lived forever, did everything, knew everybody, went everywhere. But he was hardly Everyman.
He lived so long that he was a Hall of Famer for more years than he wasn’t a Hall of Famer. Cooperstown welcomed him in 1962, when he was a mere 43 years old. A pup.
At either end of his life he mocked convention. He made his major league debut — this is beyond outrageous — at 17. In his first major league start he set a major league record for strikeouts in a game, and then after that season went back to high school for his senior year. Think about that.
He lived to be 92. How many 92-year-olds do you know?
The year he was born, Alexander Graham Bell was still alive. So were Wyatt Earp and Orville Wright.
When Feller debuted in Van Meter, Iowa, Christy Mathewson was still alive. So were Honus Wagner, Napoleon Lajoie, and Cy Young.
Ty Cobb? Not only was he still alive, he was STILL PLAYING!
As a 17-year-old rookie with the Indians in 1936, Feller needed a place to live. Cy Slapnicka, the scout who signed him, found a room for him in a boarding house in Cleveland. One of Feller’s fellow-boarders in the house had fought in the war — the Civil War.
When Feller told me that story — “He was a nice guy. Kind of quiet, but nice” — my jaw almost hit the floor. That meant I knew a guy who knew a guy who fought in the Civil War. I still can’t believe it.
I still can’t believe I knew Bob Feller. That he knew me. By name. For most of the last 17 years I had the privilege of having Feller sitting in the seat directly behind me in the press box at Progressive Field. We became good friends. I tried not to bug him during games, but it was hard. I mean, come on. It’s Bob Feller. It was like having Leonardo da Vinci sitting behind you.
“Bob, who was harder to pitch to, Williams or DiMaggio? “
“Hey Bob, what was the most pitches you ever threw in a game? “
“Bob, how hard did Satchel Paige throw? “
Rain delays? I didn’t mind them. Not with Bob Feller sitting behind me.
He was an encyclopedia. This happened a lot: he would tell me about a game, an incident, an inning, an event, 50, 60, 70 years ago. He’d recall dates, players, scores, minute details. Later I would look it up and he was invariably right on almost every fact. His memory was stunning, and anything might set him off.
You could be talking about something completely different, and he’d suddenly launch into another anecdote. “That reminds me of a spring training game in Shreveport in 1940. . . ‘’
He was basically a celebrity his entire life. He knew celebrities, in and out of baseball. He knew famous people, personally, and lots of them.
You know Wilson sporting goods? Bob knew Wilson. Ever stayed or eaten at a Howard Johnson’s? Bob knew Howard Johnson.
On Dec. 7, 1941, Bob was driving from his home in Iowa to Cleveland to sign his contract for the 1942 season when he heard about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Forget Cleveland. Without giving it a second thought he immediately drove straight into Chicago and enlisted in the Navy — and he never looked back.
Although he was only 22, he was already in the prime of his career. You could argue that he got great faster than any player in major league history. He was IN the major leagues as a junior in high school. In his first three full seasons in the majors he was 24-9 at age 20, 27-11 at 21, and 25-13 at 22. At age 22 he had already won 107 games. Cy Young, at the same age, had won zero.
Then he went off to war, and served as chief of an anti-aircraft gun crew on the USS Alabama.
He basically missed four full seasons while in the Navy. In his last three major league seasons before the war and in his first three full seasons after the war, Feller averaged 24 wins per year. If there had been no war and if he had averaged 24 wins per year in the four years he missed, you could add 96 more victories to his career total, which would have put him at 362, which would rank seventh on the game’s all-time list.
Bob never dwelled on losing four years in the prime of his career to the war. He rarely even talked about it. In many ways he was more proud of the time he spent in the Navy than he was about the time he spent in the major leagues.
In his mind he was an American first, a ballplayer second.
And what a ballplayer. Over 18 years he pitched in 570 major league games, winning 266 — all of them for the Indians. He arrived like a comet, in 1936, at age 17 — the original chosen one. He never threw a single pitch in the minor leagues. He is arguably the most famous Cleveland professional athlete ever, and certainly the most famous Cleveland Indian ever.
When he was born, on Nov. 3, 1918, his parents named him Robert Andrew William Feller. To us he was Rapid Robert. A phenom as a young player, a phenomenon as an oldtimer.
We most definitely will not see his like again.
You know you’re big when they build a statue to you while you’re still alive. Outside of Progressive Field there is a statue of Feller, which has stood there since the ballpark opened in 1994.
If you’re in the neighborhood, or even if you’re not, today would be a good day to stop by and say hello.
And goodbye.
http://morningjournal.com/articles/2010/12...wmode=fullstory
Beanpot
