Rest in peace.
Bob now knows what we only surmise in hope and faith.
Rest in Peace Bob.
You are home now.
"On Opening Day in the 1940 season, Feller pitched a no-hitter against the Chicago White Sox, with the help of a diving play on the final out by second baseman, Ray Mack. This is the only no-hitter to be thrown on Opening Day in major league history."
Cool.
Bob, thanks for your service. Rest in peace.
He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion or VFW
Telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.
And ‘tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew where of he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer,
For ol’ Bob has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer
For a Soldier died today.
He won’t be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won’t note his passing,
‘Tho a Soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Some jerk who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?
The politician’s stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.
While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
And perhaps a pension, small.
It’s so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times
That our Bobs and Jims and Johnnys,
Went to battle, but we know,
It is not the politicians
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom
That our country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand?
Or would you want a Soldier—
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight until the end.
He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier’s part
Is to clean up all the troubles
That the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor
While he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage
At the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say:
“OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING,
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.”
I was in line getting my copy of his book autographed, and the guy in front of me is asking Bob Feller to recount some story in the autograph he’s asking for. Bob Feller tells the guy, “I already wrote the book once”, then he signed his name.
RIP Rapid Robert!
Loved the interview where he was asked how many more wins he’d have gotten if he hadn’t served. He responded that we’d gotten a pretty big win (WWII) when he served. Great perspective.
May he rest in peace.
He was one of the great ones: not only the best right-handed pitcher between Pete Alexander and Tom Seaver, but also a patriot and a gentleman. Had he not voluntered for the Navy the day after Pearl Harbor and missed close to five full seasons, he would have won over 350 games.
I had the opportunity to meet Bob Feller once about 20 years ago, though briefly. I had showed up at a baseball card show to get his autograph on a photo of him warming up before a game.
To my surprise, he was able to tell me the date and location of the photo, as well as much of the line-up for both teams and weather conditions that affected play that day. He went on for about 5 minutes speaking about this. Pretty cool.
RIP.
Tell that to all the modern prima donnas who have to baby their arms until they are in their twenties.
He came to town in the early 80’s and I got a baseball signed by him. He was old school midwest: plain spoken and straight as a post.
Game Called. Across the field of play
the dusk has come, the hour is late.
The fight is done and lost or won,
the player files out through the gate.
The tumult dies, the cheer is hushed,
the stands are bare, the park is still.
But through the night there shines the light,
home beyond the silent hill.
Game Called. Where in the golden light
the bugle rolled the reveille.
The shadows creep where night falls deep,
and taps has called the end of play.
The game is done, the score is in,
the final cheer and jeer have passed.
But in the night, beyond the fight,
the player finds his rest at last.
Game Called. Upon the field of life
the darkness gathers far and wide,
the dream is done, the score is spun
that stands forever in the guide.
Nor victory, nor yet defeat
is chalked against the players name.
But down the roll, the final scroll,
shows only how he played the game.
-Grantland Rice
See Also:
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/2643352/posts
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/2643339/posts
Bob got called up to the Show.
RIP. Feller was one of the greats.