The next morning we went downstairs to have breakfast at the hotel and then went to Yankee Stadium with Schoolboy Rowe and a few of the other guys. The subway let you off near center field, so we had to walk all the way around to the entrance.

In New York, nobody ever needed to remind you where you were; the kids who flocked around you for autographs there had a distinct edge, a streetwise manner that suggested they had lived beyond their years. They had a certain rough charm about them. Half of you wished they were more polite and the other half of you was grateful they weren't because of the entertainment value of it.

On this particular morning there were a number of kids who wanted autographs from us. George was walking all by himself, carrying a little bag with his clothes from home, staying close to the stadium wall.

"Why don't you get his autograph," I said, pointing to Tebbetts. "He's a ballplayer. He's a Detroit Tiger. His name is George Tebbetts. He's a catcher." A bunch of the kids ran over and got his autograph, and he got quite a thrill out of that.

I didn't have the heart to tell Birdie what one of those New York kids said: "He's not a Detroit Tiger. I know all the Tigers and he's not one of them."

"Well," I told that boy, "he's going to be a great catcher in the big leagues some day."

"I'll wait," said the boy, New York to the bone. "Now give me your autograph."

Tebbetts broke into the big leagues with the Tigers late in the 1936 season and retired from the Indians in 1952. He later became a manager, scouted for decades, and was one of the most well-liked men in baseball for years. When Birdie joined the Tigers and we'd go to Boston, his mother would bring a cake into the clubhouse for us as a way of thanking us for taking care of her boy.

I happened to talk to Birdie about two weeks before he died. He thanked me for catching his first game. He told me he was eternally grateful to me for making him feel comfortable enough to say his prayers and for telling those kids that he played for the Tigers. That was the first autograph he ever signed.

If you don't miss Birdie Tebbetts, then I guess that's just because you never had the pleasure of meeting him.

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