April 16, 1940—Not yet 22 years old, Cleveland Indians pitcher Bob Feller gave fans a game for the ages, striking out members of the Chicago White Sox en route to a 1-0 victory—the only no-hitter on Opening Day in baseball history.
The performance, on a cold and windy day at the White Sox’ Comiskey Park, included a bit of wildness from the righthander—five walks—but he got the job done when he had to. More important, it put to rest talk from late in his subpar spring training that Feller would have a terrible year.
(Oh, by the way: There undoubtedly exists a fairly sizable contingent of my readers who wonder what on earth has possessed me the last few days with all the posts on baseball. I could answer that, with the glorious game here again, it’s time to remember the amazing things done and said concerning the sport. But some readers are bound to remain resistant to such logic. To those nay-sayers, I can only repeat the advice frequently provided by the nuns of St. Cecilia of Englewood, N.J., when I was growing up: “Offer it up!”)
“Rapid Robert” is still wonderfully alive at this point, and has been known to sign a baseball or two at the eponymous museum in his hometown of Van Meter, Iowa. A good thing he’s still around to remind baseball fans who are too young to remember that there once existed a fastball pitcher who was fully the equal of Randy Johnson, Nolan Ryan and Sandy Koufax.
None of the preceding three—perhaps nobody, peri0d—was so good so young as Feller. In September 1936, still only a 17-year-old rookie, he struck out 17 batters. The year prior to his opening-day gem, he won 24 games. If his 100-mile-per-hour fastball didn't get you, his nasty curve would.
The performance, on a cold and windy day at the White Sox’ Comiskey Park, included a bit of wildness from the righthander—five walks—but he got the job done when he had to. More important, it put to rest talk from late in his subpar spring training that Feller would have a terrible year.
(Oh, by the way: There undoubtedly exists a fairly sizable contingent of my readers who wonder what on earth has possessed me the last few days with all the posts on baseball. I could answer that, with the glorious game here again, it’s time to remember the amazing things done and said concerning the sport. But some readers are bound to remain resistant to such logic. To those nay-sayers, I can only repeat the advice frequently provided by the nuns of St. Cecilia of Englewood, N.J., when I was growing up: “Offer it up!”)
“Rapid Robert” is still wonderfully alive at this point, and has been known to sign a baseball or two at the eponymous museum in his hometown of Van Meter, Iowa. A good thing he’s still around to remind baseball fans who are too young to remember that there once existed a fastball pitcher who was fully the equal of Randy Johnson, Nolan Ryan and Sandy Koufax.
None of the preceding three—perhaps nobody, peri0d—was so good so young as Feller. In September 1936, still only a 17-year-old rookie, he struck out 17 batters. The year prior to his opening-day gem, he won 24 games. If his 100-mile-per-hour fastball didn't get you, his nasty curve would.
Here are there things to like about Feller (aside from his Hall of Fame achievements on the diamond, of course):
* His baseball apprenticeship, which sounds like something out of a book or film. Feller’s lesser-known nickname—“The Heater From Van Meter”—refers to the community 10 miles west of Des Moines, Iowa, where he grew up. There, his father would play catch with him between their red barn (still standing, as part of the museum today) and their house. The scene is reminiscent of The Natural or Field of Dreams (and, indeed, when asked by an interview which of the moments in his life he would want to relive, the pitcher cited these father-son moments).
* His baseball apprenticeship, which sounds like something out of a book or film. Feller’s lesser-known nickname—“The Heater From Van Meter”—refers to the community 10 miles west of Des Moines, Iowa, where he grew up. There, his father would play catch with him between their red barn (still standing, as part of the museum today) and their house. The scene is reminiscent of The Natural or Field of Dreams (and, indeed, when asked by an interview which of the moments in his life he would want to relive, the pitcher cited these father-son moments).
* His war service. “Strikeouts are boring,” veteran catcher Crash Davis advises raw rookie hurler Crash Davis in Bull Durham. “Besides, they’re fascist.” Feller might beg to differ on both counts—and as someone who spent World War II fighting real totalitarianism, he has every right to do so. His 266 career wins would have been considerably greater if he hadn’t lost three full seasons and most of a fourth to WWII, which he spent on the U.S.S. Alabama. The first major-league ballplayer to enlist after Pearl Harbor, he ended up with five campaign ribbons and being decorated with eight battle stars. Yet he has modestly insisted he’s not a hero—the real ones, he explains, never came back.
* He loathes cheaters. Feller has gone on record as saying that if Pete Rose is elected to the Hall of Fame, he’ll never show up for another Cooperstown ceremony. He’s only slightly less harsh on steroid users, noting: “Those players who have been convicted of using steroids or are caught using them are not going to get the numbers to be elected to the Hall of Fame when they become eligible for that great honor. And I am with them on that."
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