May 14th, Tuesday - A Baseball Cinderella Story

Today we focus on a Baseball Hall of Fame-r, who is often eclipsed by his flamboyant teammates. Today’s poem submitted by a listener!

The date is May 14^th, Tuesday, and today I’m coming to you from Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Today is the birthday of Earle B. Combs, Baseball Hall of Fame-r. Earle was centerfielder and leadoff hitter the New York Yankees and was part of the legendary “Murderers’ Row” on the 1927 team.

Combs hadn’t planned on baseball being his career. He went to college to become a teacher for the one-room schoolhouses in rural Kentucky where he was born and raised. He played baseball, basketball, and ran track while completing his education.

Out of college, Combs played on two local baseball teams while teaching. His play caught the eye of the Louisville Colonels. Combs had married his high school sweetheart in 1921, so when the Louisville Colonels offered to pay Combs a salary above his teaching pay, he took it, happy and proud to be able to bring home more as the breadwinner.

However, his first game with the Colonels went terrible. He made multiple errors, allowing the opposition to score two extra runs to win the game. Afterwards, Earle was distraught, thinking his career in baseball was going to be over before it had begun! The manager of the team approached Combs, to let him know that he signed Earle for a reason: he knew what Combs was capable of and he didn’t doubt Earle’s ability. Bucked up by the pep talk, Combs worked harder on his fielding and was a star hitter for the team.

Combs went to the Yankees in ‘24 and stayed with them until the end of his playing career in ‘35. He was a sharp contrast in demeanor to his showboat teammates Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. But his reserved temperament and resolve to always do his best, made him a Yankee fan favorite.

Combs was hired as a full-time coach by the Yankees after his retirement from play. They desperately wanted him to train their newly-signed rookie replacement for center field, Joe DiMaggio. Earle’s earlier education as a teacher served him well during his two decades coaching in the major leagues before retiring to his farm in Kentucky with his wife.

Babe Ruth said of Combs: “[He] was more than a good ballplayer; he was always a first-class gentleman.”

To that end, during his retirement Combs donated his money and time to his alma mater, Eastern Kentucky University, starting scholarships and serving as a Board Member.

Today’s poem was submitted by listener Tom C. of Penfield, NY!

The House with Nobody in It
Joyce Kilmer

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track

I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.

I suppose I’ve passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute

And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;

That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.

I know this house isn’t haunted, and I wish it were, I do;

For it wouldn’t be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,

And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.

It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;

But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid

I’d put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.

I’d buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be

And I’d find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,

Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.

But there’s nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone

For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,

a house that has sheltered life,

That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,

A house that has echoed a baby’s laugh and held up his stumbling feet,

Is the saddest sight, when it’s left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track

I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,

Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,

For I can’t help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

May 14th, Tuesday – A Baseball Cinderella Story

Today we focus on a Baseball Hall of Fame-r, who is often eclipsed by his flamboyant teammates. Today’s poem submitted by a listener!

Today’s poem was submitted by listener Tom C. of Penfield, NY!

Thank you for listening, I’m your host Virginia Combs, wishing you a good morning, a better day, and a lovely evening.