Bob Feller, the legendary Cleveland Indians pitcher from the great teams of the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, passed away yesterday from complications of leukemia. He was 92 years old, and in a city, and franchise, that has been reeling from setbacks, the loss of the ambassador for the Cleveland Indians is a big one.
I’m 27 years old. I never saw Feller pitch. I never met the guy, but I know of him through stories and tales. His confidence. His legendary fastball. How he left baseball to enlist in the military during World War II, sacrificing years of his prime for his country.
You may recall I lost my grandfather earlier this year, and I can’t help but think of him as I think of Feller. Grandpa was a fan of Feller, and felt he did things “the right way.” And maybe it’s only fitting that the man that I know who did things “the right way” be joined by a player and a man who did things the same way for the Cleveland Indians, and the city of Cleveland in general.
Rest in peace, Bob. Thanks for all you did for my team, and my city.
Cleveland, hang in there. Brighter days are ahead.
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