I had the best of luck throughout my playing career when it came to roommates, and my luck was never better than when I played for the Boston Red Sox in 1939. Mildred and I named our only child James Emory Auker, which should tell you all you need to know about what I thought of my Red Sox roommate, James Emory Foxx.

Jimmie Foxx was one of the nicest men I ever knew. Big-hearted, would give you the shirt off his back. He was also one of the greatest power hitters ever to play the game. The year we roomed together, he batted .360 and led the league with 35 home runs and a .694 slugging percentage. He scored 130 runs and drove in 105.

Those would be remarkable statistics for a man under any circumstances. If only people knew what personal hell his wife put him through that year, they would have been even more impressed.

It was 2:00 a.m. in our shared room when the phone rang. Again. I knew who it was because it was always Mrs. Jimmie Foxx when the phone barked in the middle of the night. That's what she wanted to be called: Mrs. Jimmie Foxx, the famous baseball player's wife.

She never did come to Boston that year. I never did meet her. I only saw a picture of her and she was beautiful, a really stunning woman. And a real pain in the neck, too. A social climber was what she was, and Jimmie didn't care for that at all. It was very important for her to be associated with the upper crust. She was always haranguing him in the middle of the night, getting him so upset that he didn't know what to do.

She fell in love with a mainline banker from Philadelphia. She was trying to get a divorce from Jimmie, and was accusing him of all sorts of things he never did. I roomed with him and I knew where he was and where he wasn't. If he had been up to no good, I would have known about it. But that didn't stop her from taking him for every penny he had.

Adding to his stress, Jimmie had purchased a golf course with a business partner and the damn thing was a real drain on his wallet. They always wanted more money, more money, more money from him. That deal was always eating at him.

That was a tough year for Jim, except at the plate. All his troubles ceased when the only thing standing in his way was a pitcher.

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