March 3, 1947: Clearwater, FL:
Bobby Barrell entered the Philadelphia Keystones clubhouse, whistling a cheerful tune. The start of spring training always held significance for him, marking the end of winter and the beginning of a new season brimming with promise. While Opening Day held a slight edge in excitement, the first Monday morning of full-squad activities was a close second.
As was his habit, Bobby arrived early, joining Billy Woytek, another diligent early bird, with a friendly wave and nod. He engaged in a brief conversation with Lloyd Stevens, the team's dependable ace pitcher. Bobby found pitchers to be a peculiar breed, including his brother Tom and nephew Rufus, but Stevens was an exception. They caught up on their winter activities, exchanging stories.
Heading towards his locker, which had been his for fourteen years, Bobby located it without hesitation. It occupied the left side of a corner tandem, while the right one, belonging to the legendary first baseman Rankin Kellogg, remained empty as a tribute to his retirement due to health reasons in the fall of '38. It was hard to fathom that this would be Bobby's tenth season without his mentor. Despite their physical distance, Bobby made an annual trip to visit Kellogg in Tennessee, spending a couple of days together, discussing baseball and catching up. Kellogg led a reclusive life, allowing only a few privileged visits. Listening to the radio or watching televised games, he reveled in the excitement of the Keystones' 1945 championship.
As Bobby turned down the row towards his locker, he froze in astonishment. He stood still, staring intently. Someone occupied Rank's locker. The man, tall and broad-shouldered, was changing into his uniform, revealing a heavily muscled physique. Bobby, no stranger to physical strength himself, found this individual to be even more imposing. Unable to spot anyone nearby, Bobby decided to investigate the situation on his own.
"Hey!" he called out, trying to conceal his annoyance. "What are you doing at that locker?" he inquired.
The man turned around, causing Bobby's amazement to resurface. This had to be Roger Cleaves, his nephew, who possessed an uncanny resemblance to his father, Joe. While Rufus, or Deuce as everyone called him, was also Joe's son, he took after his mother, Edna. In contrast, Roger was undoubtedly Joe Barrell's child.
"Oh..." Bobby stammered, his surprise evident. "Roger, right?"
Roger flashed a lopsided grin and extended his hand. "That's me. I know who you are, uh, Uncle Bobby."
Bobby shook his hand, assuring him, "We're teammates, just call me Bobby or Bob."
"Thanks," Roger replied, slightly confused. "Is there a problem? They assigned me this locker," he said, gesturing towards his belongings hanging inside.
Bobby proceeded to explain that the locker had belonged to Rankin Kellogg and remained untouched for nearly ten years.
"I see..." Roger said, thoughtfully regarding the locker. "Skip didn't inform me about that," he added, referring to manager Jack Everhart.
"You know, he might not even be aware," Bobby pondered. "But Dutch should have told him," he mentioned, with "Dutch" being the former clubhouse attendant.
"Oh, you mean the old clubby? He retired. We have a new guy, he's just a kid," Roger revealed, his perplexity evident when Bobby grinned.
"What's amusing?" Roger inquired.
Bobby chuckled and replied, "Oh, it's just you referring to someone as a kid. How old are you, 22 or 23?"
"Twenty-three," Roger responded, his pride slightly hurt.
"Relax, Roger, I didn't mean anything by it," Bobby assured him. "I also know you served as a Marine during the war and saw a lot of action."
"Yes," Roger responded softly. After a moment, he asked, "Weren't you shot by some crazy..."
Bobby nodded, revealing his forearm with a visible scar, the indentation a vivid reminder. "Not my fondest memory," he confessed.
"Yeah, I can imagine it hurt," Roger sympathized, grabbing the waistband of his shorts and revealing a round scar. "Took one in the rear end on Tinian," he explained. "It went through, but the pain was intense, you know? Got a Purple Heart, but it kept me out of action for just a week."
Bobby let out a rueful laugh, commenting, "Well, I suppose if you're going to get shot..."
Roger laughed, replying, "Yeah, that's true. Getting one in the keister hurts, but it doesn't cause any lasting damage."
Curious about Roger's presence in the big league camp, Bobby inquired, "Weren't you in Class B last year?"
"Yeah, made it to Class A as well. I guess I performed well enough for the higher-ups to take a closer look at me," Roger explained.
Bobby nodded in understanding, observing Roger's chiseled physique. "You look like you're carved out of stone," he remarked, acknowledging Roger's muscular chest.
Roger shrugged, confessing, "I developed a habit of exercising during my time in the Marines. It helped alleviate boredom, and I grew to enjoy it." He pointed at Bobby as the latter unbuttoned his shirt. "I assume you're no slouch either," he noted.
Bobby nodded, stating, "Yes, I underwent extensive rehabilitation for my arm and developed an exercise routine. No weights, though... the organization frowns upon it, believing excessive muscle reduces flexibility and hampers your swing." He lowered his voice and added, "Personally, I think that's nonsense. Being strong? It's a tremendous advantage when you connect with a ball. Look at Max Morris... he was a big guy. Some said he was fat, but I played against him, and there was a lot of muscle there."
Roger agreed, saying, "That's good to hear. I've been trying to elevate the ball more," he revealed, recounting Clint Casstevens' advice that he could hit 40 home runs a year if he set his mind to it.
"Cass said that, huh?" Bobby remarked. Roger nodded, and Bobby continued, "Well, he knows what he's talking about. I'd love to see that guy secure a FABL job one day, perhaps even here. But that's beyond my control."
Roger laughed, exclaiming, "Hey! Now you sound like a Marine!"
As Bobby continued chatting with Roger he realized that Rank would probably approve of the new guy who had inherited his old locker. It would remain to be seen whether Roger could also earn a spot in the clubhouse at Broad Street Park. That's what spring training would help determine.
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Rankin Kellogg's Official Hall of Fame Portrait
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