He was young, at the peak of his athletic powers — that day, in fact, he had celebrated his 24th birthday. So much lay ahead of Lou Boudreau that night in Cleveland, July 17, 1941: a batting title, an MVP season, a job managing the Indians to the most recent of their two World Series championships, in 1948.
On this night, though, he was grateful for his youth. For his reflexes.
“The pebble almost got me,” Boudreau said over the telephone.
This was July 2001, and Boudreau’s voice was weak. Less than a month later he would be dead at 84, saluted as one of the great gentlemen who ever played the sport.