Veteran's Day

World War I (1917-1918)
You Know Me Al, Ring Laudner (1916)
Treat 'em Rough, Ring Laudner (1918)

World War II (1942-1945)
Keystone Kids, John Tunis (1943)
Rookie of the Year, John Tunis (1944)
The Kid Comes Back, John Tunis (1946)
Soldier at Bat, Jackson Scholtz (1942)

Korea (1950-1953) The Long Discovery, John Burgan (1950)
Behold, Thy Brother, Murrell Edmunds (1950)
College Slugger, Ed Fitzgerald (1950)
The Sunlit Field, Lucy Kennedy (1950)
Bonus Rookie, Frank O'Rourke (1950)
High, Inside!, R.G. Emery
The Big Out, Arnold Hano (1951)
Yankee Rookie, Ed Fitzgerald (1952)
The Natural, Bernard Malamud (1952)
Never Come Back, Frank O'Rourke (1952)
Nine Good Men, Frank O'Rourke (1952)
The Southpaw, Mark Harris (1953)
The Catcher and the Manager, Frank O'Rourke (1953)
The Hard Way, Jack Weeks (1953)

Viet Nam (1961-1975)
The Orange Air, Roy Doliner (1961)
Squeeze Play, John Balmer (1961)
A Pennant for the Kremlin, Roy Molloy (1964)
Baseball's Darkest Days, Kenneth L. Grantham (1965)
Today's Games, Martin Quigley (1965)
Voices of a Summer Day, Irwin Shaw (1965)
Letters from Lefty, Mickey Herskowitz (1966)
The Bedfellows, Eliot Asinov (1967)
From Brooklyn With Love, Gerald Green (1967)
The Chosen, Chaim Potok (1967)
The Universal Baseball Association, Robert Coover (1968)
The Last Man is Out, Marvin Karlins (1969)
Superbaby, Felix Mendelson (1969)
Runner Mack, Barry Beckham (1972)
Sam's Legacy, Jay Neugeboren (1973)
The Bingo Long Travelling All-Stars and Motor Kings, William Brashler (1973)
A Great Day for a Ball Game, Fielding Dawson (1973)
Babe Ruth Caught in a Snowstorm, John Alexandder Graham (1973)
Wild Pitch, A.B. Guthrie (1973)
A Grand Slam, Ray Puechner (1973)
The Great American Novel, Philip Roth (1973)
The Devil to Play, Leonard Holton (1974)
Flawless Play Restored, Gilbert Sorrentino (1974)
All G.O.D.'s Children, John Craig (1975)
The Sensation, Norman Keifetz (1975)
Mortal Stakes, Robert B. Parker (1975)

Iraq / Afganistan (2003-present)
Screwball, David Ferrell (2003)
Coyote Moon, John A. Miller (2003)
The Spring Habit, David Hanson (2004)
Waiting for Teddy Williams, Howard Frank Mosher (2004)
Jumpin' Jimminy, Richard Skole (2004)
King of Diamonds, Don Strachan (2004)
Double Play, Robert D. Parker (2005)
Trolley Dodgers, Jeff Stanger (2005)
Suitcase Sefton and the American Dream, Jay Fedlman (2006)
Heat, Mike Lupica (2006)
Miko Kings, Leanne Howe (2007)
The End of Baseball, Peter Shilling (2008)
Dirty Water, A Red Sox Mystery, Mary-Anne Smith (2008)
The Housekeeper and the Professor, Yoko Ogawa (2009)
Change Up, John Feinstein (2009)
Home, Away, Jeff Gillenkirk (2010)
The Man with Two Arms, Billy Lombardo (2010)
Blockade Billy, Stephen King (2010)
Diamond Ruby, Joseph Wallace (2011)


(Not a complete lineup of novels written during war time, but a pretty good representation. Salutes to both real veterans, fictional veterans and veteran novelists.)

Cataloging project

For most of the past year, or so, I have been putting together a baseball fiction database. I started out simply wanting to have a mechanism to catalog my collection - a listing of titles with authors, when the book was published and whether it was hardcover or soft, and maybe a brief summary of the plot.

Well, over time I've expanded the database to include not only a plot summary, but subject terms. And, I've added related datasets for fictional team names and character names. The biggest part of the project is the characters, of course. Originally, I'd thought only to include the protagonist and the principle supporting characters. But, as things go, I ended up deciding to include every character - no matter how small. So the list now includes names of people who may have only been named once, or in passing. And, I've also decided to add actual people (like Mel Ott or Christy Mathewson) since many novels incorporate actual events, or teams, or people in supporting roles. And some, like Veracruz Blues, for expample, are almost entirely populated by actual people. The addition of historical characters meant I had to add a field to denote the real folks. And, it has meant an added layer of research - to identify those people if they occur. An interesting note - some people, like Babe Ruth, appear in multiple stories, so they will end up being recorded several times in the database.

I've got a lot of work to do. Creating the main catalog of books was simple, but I now spend time each week going back one book at a time to identify the characters and the role they play in the story. This is rather time consuming since it involves, basically, re-reading the story so as not to miss anything. I try to go back over one book each week. And, if I'm reading something new, I carry around a notepad or piece of paper to write names (and teams) down as I go along. So, perhaps in a year, or so, I'll have updated the database so that it will be a comprehensive database of baseball fiction - or at least of those titles I've read.

Keep you posted.

The Clown

Eliot Asinof's classic Man on Spikes (McGraw-Hill: 1955) is the minor league odyssey of outfielder Mike Kutner; his quest to get to the majors thwarted at every turn, despite his admirable play. His story is told by a series of different voices: by the people he meets and interacts with along the way. One of those people is Charlie Caulfield, a clown in flannels and stirrups. His life intersects with Kutners' while the two are playing outfield for the Houston Steers, a AA team in the fictional Chicago Lions farm system of the 1940s.

Caulfield started playing professional ball on a lark. As a college graduate he could have gone into business with a friend, but decided to play around for a few years with a local Class B team. His hitting was good enough to get him noticed by the AA Steers and, with a draft deferment - this was 1941 and Caulfield had a punctured eardrum - he had good timing. But he quickly discovered that being the "funny man" would help him stay with the team far longer than his skills.

Once, when hitting a ball back to the pitcher, he was so frustrated that instead of even trying to run to first base, he headed toward third base, instead. The pitcher and third basemen were so confused that they got Caulfield in a rundown between third and home until Caulfield finally sat down and laughed out loud. As Asinof put it: "he gave up even trying to be a real ball player; he was getting paid to be a freak."

Caulfield plays the fool to the story's leading character's professionalism. Charlie lives life for the moment and is seemingly rewarded for it. And, despite all his efforts, Kutner struggles to realize his goals. Caulfield points out that lightening up will help Mike's situation. That "people will like you more. It helps to be liked..." Friendship and being amicable are more valuable than sweating and working hard, and will help advance a person farther.

With the serious-minded, and naturally-skilled Kutner next to him in center field, though, Caulfield eventually finds himself reevaluating what he's become. In a telling moment in the locker room, Caulfield feels his insides churning, wanting not to have to go out and "perform" once again, but to fake an illness and take the night off. He sits on the bench next to Kutner feeling tired and old. His thoughts lead him to be absent-minded in his play, to the point of misplaying a fly ball and having Kutner admonish him for not "being in the game." In the 9th inning, however, Caulfield pulls himself together and redeems himself, through his own unique style, by scoring the winning run. His action and humor actually bring a smile to Mike Kutner's face, restoring Charlie's belief in himself.

Caulfield's outlook on life (not to mention his luck) prove to be prophetic. While sitting out a season serving his country in the Aleutian islands during the 1944 season, Kutner learns that his former teammate is playing centerfield for the St. Louis Cardinals. Listening to the radio broadcast of the World Series, Kutner hears how his former teammate misplays a flyball but adjusts to make a diving catch that saves the game.

Charlie Caulfield's role in Mike Kutner's story is limited to primarily his one featured chapter. But in addition to his appearance in the World Series, we are treated to a short aside that informs us that Caulfield eventually ends up as the third-string outfielder for the Lions. As this coincides to the end of Mike Kutner's career, we have to assume that it is also toward the end of Caulfield's, as well, since the two are roughly the same age.

Charlie Caulfield is one of the stronger supporting characters in Man on Spikes. His is a story that could stand on its own -- the story of the clown who made it to the Show.

Joltin' Joe

I recently completed reading 56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports (Sports Illustrated: 2011). The story, by Kostya Kennedy, is not a novel, but Kennedy's treatment of Joe DiMaggio's feat reads a lot like fiction. More than just a simple retelling of one of baseball's greatest endeavours, Kennedy interjects the story with the mood and feel of the times.

Baseball, during the summer of 1941, took place while the world outside of America was at war. And the threat of America's involvement grew with each day. Kennedy's narration of the streak is interjected with headlines of the day, both internationally and nationally, so that his narration of each game during the streak is put in context. And, along with what is going on in Europe or Asia, are sprinklings of what the average fan thought about Joe and what was happening in the ballpark. Particularly interesting are Kennedy's tales of a gang of kids in the Bronx and the relationship between Joe and his first wife, Dorothy Arnold.

Now, I've read a few comments that Kennedy plays a little loose with some of the facts, or that his editors were not as sharp as they should have been (English monarchs are crowned at Westminster Abbey, not Westminster Hall), but these small things are easily overlooked when considering the bits about Wee Willie Keeler, about Joe's style of hitting (flat-footed with little stride), or insights from Pete Rose about his attempt at the record. It's these little sidenotes that ground the reader in reality - pulling you back into the present from that world of 70 years ago. 56 is an entertaining read, and Kennedy's style of writing makes it seem as if you are reading a fictionalized account - one that brings out the suspense and the sights and sounds of that summer in New York. In Kennedy's story, the streak is more than DiMaggio's endeavour, but how it touched so many people at the time.

A perfect equation

Sometimes a baseball novel is not really about baseball, or it may not be so apparent. In the case of The Housekeeper and the Professor (Picador: 2009), none of the characters in Yoko Ogawa's story are baseball players or owners or associated with a team. Baseball, in fact, is a minor aspect to the plot, but does play an important role during the course of the story. Ogawa has crafted an absolutely wonderful story based on a very intriguing premise.

Due to an automobile accident, the Professor in Ogawa's novel, can only remember the last 80 minutes of his immediate past. The remainder of his memory is from his life prior to his accident. The professor was once a renown mathematics instructor whose life is reduced to spending his time solving contest puzzles in journals and magazines. He pins small notes to his clothes to remind him of who he is and of the people he might come in contact during his day.

The narrator is the latest in a long line of housekeepers the Professor's sister-in-law has hired to cook and clean up after him. She is a young mother of a 10-year old boy who the Professor names "Root" because the boy's hair cut reminds him of the square root symbol. Both the housekeeper and her son form bonds with the Professor that makes the story touching and memorable. The professor teaches each of his charges about the uniqueness of mathematics, while the housekeeper finds, in the professor, a parent-figure. Her son finds commonality with his mother's employer in baseball. Both he and the professor are fans of the Hanshin Tigers. But while the boy relentlessly follows the current-day Tigers, the professor roots for the Hanshin squad led by All-star pitcher Yujata Enatsu, who left the Tigers in 1975 - interestingly, the same year of the professor's accident.

The Housekeeper and the Professor, as I mentioned, is a heart-warming tale of human companionship and the lengths people will go to maintain connection with other people. Each morning, the housekeeper must re-introduce herself and the professor brings her into his life using his small notes and questions centered around prime numbers. The combination of mathematics and baseball make for an interesting plot device - one that works very well. And the bonds between each of the central characters seemingly grows stronger, despite the fact the professor cannot remember the woman or her son after the end of each day.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It is certainly a highlight of this year's reading lineup. As and aside, the novel was adapted to film in 2006 (The Professor's Beloved Equation: Koizumi) that was apparently done very close to the original story. It would be worth trying to locate a copy of this beautifully done story.

What if?

For those of you who enjoy reading alternative fiction (and baseball!) The End of Baseball (Ivan R. Dee: 2008) is a rare treat. Author Peter Schilling imagines what might have happened had a long-rumored attempt by Veeck to integrate baseball did, in fact, occur. As the rumor goes, during the 1940s, Veeck planned to purchase the Phillies and stock it with Negro League stars but then-commissioner Kennisaw Mountain Landis vetoed the purchase. In the alternate-reality created by Schilling, Veeck purchases the flailing Philadelphia A's from Connie Mack and replaces the roster of white players with African-American ballplayers such as Satchel Paige, Buck Leonard, and Josh Gibson. Landis is thwarted through the intervention of politicians and the press. But Veeck and his team must overcome racism and both overt and furtive attempts by the Commissioner to force the A's to fail.

There is an obvious similarity between The End of Baseball and the earlier novel, New York Yanquis, by Bill Granger. In each case, an owner sets out to create a "dream team" to shake up the Game. And there are similar reactions by fans and rivals, alike. But while Yanquis is light and humorous, The End of Baseball is a more serious and realistic portrayal of both the game and players facing bias.

The novel takes place in 1944 when most of America was still, for the most part, segregated. Despite fighting a war on two fronts, the military still kept the races apart; many hotels and restaurants - even those in the seemingly more-open North restricted access to Blacks; and, of course, baseball was still a white-man's game. It is with this backdrop that Schilling sets out to "re-write" history.

For the most part, Mr. Schilling does a credible job of establishing the atmosphere of bigotry. There are those things that you expect - the antipathy by white players and fans of other teams, as well as from the Commissioner. But where Schilling fails is with the third party on the diamond: the umpires. While the black players put up with beanballs, being spiked, even intentionally walked to keep from breaking records set by whites, nowhere are the umpires illustrated as having any prejudice. I would imagine that in reality, umpires in that society would have openly called balls strikes or vice versa, as well as call close plays outs, or home runs foul if they strayed too close to the pole. Umpires in Schilling's story are actually more benign, and even invisible, factors.

Schilling's  overriding premise is that if Veeck's team was successful, all racism would melt away. And that a team stocked with all-star talent would win over all types of fans - even those in rival stadiums. I'm not so sure this would be the case. You are left wondering: would Philadelphia fans really pack the stands if the team was racing for a pennant, albeit one during a year where each of the teams had had their best talent stripped away by the war effort?

The story also includes a plot line where J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI determine to prove that the black players are actually associated with the communist party, but this story is never fully developed and eventually fades away to be more or less a non-issue, as if Schilling somehow forgot about it.

These shortcomings aside, the book is still entertaining. The setting is well-established and Schilling goes to great length to describe train rides as well as the sights, sounds, and smells of those old ball parks. He also does a very credible job of creating believable characters - albeit based on real people; he's done his homework in getting the characters of, not only Bill Veeck, but Satchel Paige, Josh Gibson, and Campanella, to act and "sound" believable. You end up rooting for them to succeed and hoping that the great experiment will somehow change baseball, and American society.

Last on the bench, and last in the American League, but first as a summer read

Baseball fiction typically involves the protagonist actually playing the game or doing something to advance his, or her, team on the field. In Sut McCaslin, A Baseball Romance (Writers Club Press, 2000), author Steve Spoerl's focus is not so much on the action on the field as on what goes on in the dugout, or in a bar after a game. The title character is a career pinch hitter and occasional late inning spot player. Sut McCaslin rides the pine for the 1950s Washington Senators. Sitting in on a post-game poker game, or at a bar stool, or on the bench between innings, McCaslin and his teammates' attention is primarily focused on the latest happenings of the McCarthy Hearings on Un-American Activities.

Second baseman Seth Macy holds court during poker games or late night bar hops. Macy is an admirer of Wisconsin senator Joe McCarthy - enough so, that he gets the team invited to a party in McCarthy's honor while the team is in St. Louis. It is in St. Louis that McCaslin's life takes a dramatic swing when he enters into an affair with an African-American woman.

Sut's career mirrors those of a great many baseball players - both past and present. Once star players on their respective high school or college teams, they sign with major league clubs only to languish in obscurity. It is only the rare few that make it to the majors, let alone become star players. In Sut's case, his regular playing days are long over and he is only playing out his last season, or two, hoping for the rare opportunity to still prove his worth.

With the backdrop of the hearings before the McCarthy Hearings providing an almost surreal atmostphere - one that produces a level of anticipation that something related to the team, or one its players, will suddently be revealed - the Senators wallow at the bottom of the standings and an aging Detroit pitcher is trying to eke out just enough wins to surpass Cy Young's record for career wins.

A relatively short novel, it is a rather melancholy and dark (perhaps due to scenes set in smoky bars or shaded dugouts), but it's also rather humorous and light at times. The daily grind of a team habitually in last place and hoping that perhaps they will string together a few wins, to make things interesting, is portrayed admirably by Spoerl.

Sut McCaslin is an interesting book and hard to put down. Reading it is like sitting in the stands during the heat during a Washington, DC or St. Louis summer: too hot to really stay and watch the game on the field, but strangely too hot to move somewhere cooler. In the end, despite the haze and humidity, all of a sudden the game is over, and you're suddenly ready to head home; later you find you actually miss being in the stands. That's Sut McCaslin: one of those books you'd gladly go back and re-read a few more times just to try and figure out what really happened.

Who's on first?

John Baal, Rupert Mundys (The Great American Novel)
Aki, Bear Creek Grade school Ridgers (Bat 6)
Hal Bennett, Lions (Chance)
John Bunyan, Washington Senators (Sut McCaslin, A Baseball Romance)
Ray Burris, Cincinnati Reds (Home, Away)
Jumbo Hank Clerval, Highbridge Hellbenders (Brittle Innings)
Pat Corelli, New York Lions (The Last Great Season)
Donald "Hog" Durham, Arkansas Reds (The Dixie Association)
Jody Faust, St. Louis Browns (Fielder's Choice)
Luis "Gumbo" Garcia, Splendid Dominican Tourists (Brittle Innings)
Pete Jenkins, Krebs Miners (Miko Kings)
George Lloyd, Wichita Wraith (Babe Ruth Caught in a Snowstorm)
High McDowell, Centerville Owls (Season of the Owls)
Lucius Mummy, Miko Kings (Miko Kings)
Herb Score, Santa Rosa Stompers (Home, Away)
Norm Sudikoff, Highbridge Hellbenders (Brittle Innings)
Vitamin Vitarello, Washington Memorials (The Spring Habit)
E.T.A. Whitiker, (team unamed) (The Greatest Slump of All Time)
Wink, Barlow Road Grade School Pioneers (Bat 6)
Donus Youngs, All Stars, (The Bingo Long Travelling All-Stars & Motor Kings)

Miko Kings play games of bases

At times, reading Miko Kings (Aunt Lute Books: 2007) is like standing amidst the wind-blown, dried grass that rises out the red dirt, while looking through an old leather-covered picture album. An album populated with sepia-toned pictures of people in cowboy hats, checkered shirts, or calico. LeAnne Howe's novel of baseball and inequity rolls out of the Oklahoma praire like a tumbleweed on a hot wind. The story bounces along, back and forth between past and future. But that's exactly what makes Miko Kings a great story; if it was written conventionally, it would not be nearly so good.

Told primarily from the point of view of Lena Coulter, a reporter who has returned to Oklahoma from assignment in Jordan, the novel primarily tells the story of a team of Choctaw playing in the Oklahoma Indian Territory just prior to statehood. While the core story is about the team and a momentous game to be played against a rival team made up of U.S. cavalrymen, Howe's novel is also about the lives of three people: Hope Little Leader, the team's pitcher, Justina Maurepas, a civil activist, and Ezol Day, the young girl who witnessed the events of that turn-of-the-century game and who brings the story to Lena's pen.

Lena learns about the baseball game and the various characters through Ezol's journal, and through "visits" by Ezol's spirit to her present-day home in Ada. (It wouldn't be a story about Native Americans without a spirit guide). We learn of Hope Little Leader's youth spent in a boarding school for blacks and Indians in Virginia. It is there he met Justina, who was a young teacher. The rebellious duo go their seperate ways. Hope returns to Oklahoma, where he finds direction (baseball) and a cause (the threat of his people losing their land) and a method to fight it - baseball. Justina ends up in New Orleans where she discovers her fight in unjustice in the brothels of that city.

Underlying all unjustice, of course, is wealth, whether it's money gathered from using other people, or the value of land. And into the mix of Miko Kings is racial bias, between blacks and whites and red and whites. Fortunately, for the novel, Howe nests the racial aspect inside differences in social class - between the haves and the have-nots of rural Oklahoma, and the streets of New Orleans. Something stronger would definitely taken away from the story. Instead, we are given a rich tale of societal differences that develop very nicely, with rather sympathetic characters.

The story abounds with subplots - Hope Little Leader's plan to help his people retain their integrity, if not their land; Justina's brushes with violent protests; and Ezol's maturation process through orphanages and step-homes. But the subplots - like the dust that blows around the characters on the Oklahoma prairie - come together at the end in surprise fashion and tie everything together for Lena, who is trying to recover from her own traumas.

The story of the Miko Kings' game with the soldiers has its roots in historical fact. During the winter of 1869, the 7th Cavalry - based at Fort Sill and under the command of General George Armstrong Custer - played baseball against a team of Kansas volunteers comprised of Native Americans. And during the late 1880s, Apache tribesmen, interned at Fort Sill, played baseball while soldiers watched.

While the story is centered around a particular baseball game, baseball is not the focus of the story and there is no need to weigh down the novel with countless scenes of baseball action. There is just enough to liven the story and move it forward. There is, however, plenty of discussion about the players, brief vignettes of different games, and insights into how Native Americans developed a stick and ball game (althought the discription shades more toward lacrosse than baseball).

Howe's novel is enjoyable, as well as educational and eye-opening at times. It is well crafted and a satisfying read.

In remembrance

Best known for his Pulitzer Prize-winning The Killer Angels (David McKay:1974), Michael Shaara also wrote For the Love of the Game (Carroll & Graf:1991), that was published postumously by his son. The story was eventually made into a movie starring Kevin Costner.

For the Love of the Game tells the story of aging pitcher Billy Chapel, who sets out onto the mound for one last time after learning that his team is to be sold and he is unlikely to be retained. In a series of flashbacks told while Chapel is pitching against the Yankees, we learn about Chapel's life and loves and pains. The game - which he loves - turns out to be his greatest, though it changes him and his future life.

Shaara taught literature at Florida State and was the auther of five novels and a number of short stories, primarily science fiction. Shaara had a knack for developing his characters at the emotional and empathetic level. While The Killer Angels was awarded the top prize for fiction, it did not gain widespread commercial success until after the film "Gettysburg" (Ron Maxwell: 1993) was released, five years after the author's death.

Shaara's baseball novel, though never reached the level of success of his story about the battle of Gettysburg. It does, however, match up well with similar heartstring-pullers, such as How This All Started (Pete Fromm) and Prospect (Bill Littlefield). It's too bad we didn't get to find out if Shaara had any other tales of the diamond in him.

Michael Shaara (b. 6/26/1928, d. 5/5/1988)

The Boss and the Yanquis

Once upon a time there was a baseball owner who took hands-on leadership to the extreme. He was known for over-reacting, removing managers at a whim and expressing his ire over perceived player recalicitrance. I'm, of course, referring to George Steinbrenner. The legendary Yankees owner took over the Yankees shortly after the demise of the Reserve Clause. The Boss used millions made in the shipping industry and permanently shaped the future of baseball free-agency. He dedicated his ownership to building the Yankees into a permanent championship team, centered around star players paid exorbitant salaries.

In New York Yanquis (Arcade Publishing: 1995), author Bill Granger gives us Yankee owner George Bremenhaven, a thinly-veiled recreation of the late Yankee owner. Sharing the stage with Bremenhaven, and the book's protagonist, is veteran relief pitcher Ryan Patrick Shawn, turned manager. The premise for Granger's comedic novel is the Yankee owners desire to reduce his payroll by getting rid of all of his high-priced players and replacing them with a roster of Cuban all-stars who will play the game simply because of their love of the game. The only player he retains is Shawn, who happens to speak Spanish, and is desperate for one last go-around before retiring.

The novel is full of jabs at Stienbrenner, from his all-consuming drive for a pennant to his penny-pinching methods. He houses the Cuban players in one of his run-down hotels and feeding them pizza. To keep Shawn in line, Bremenhaven contrives various schemes that has Shawn fending off accusations of infedelity to his girlfriend and fearing that the IRS is going to lock him up for tax fraud. Shawn is initially a gullible hero, but one that can, and will, stand up to Bremenhaven - often in amusing verbal jabs. Shawn finds himself playing cat-and-mouse games with his boss, which in the end tends to put him on an equal footing with the eccentric owner.

Bremenhaven hates to lose, whether it's against other teams, their owners, or even his own players. Shawn just wants to survive one more season and then see where things take him. The Cubans just want to play ball, but find themselves frustrated and depressed at being so far from home and being treated as second-hand citizens. The story is a comedy that makes light of the Stienbrenner-esk character and his antics, but we are also treated to a host of stereotypical characters, from Shawn's Los Angeles-based agent to his girlfriend, and a host of mysterious government agents. And then, there's the cameo appearances by Fidel Castro, himself, with his long-winded, rambling tirades

Actual baseball action is rare in this novel, but done well when it appears. But the story is actually less about baseball than about hopes and dreams, and the compromises that must be made along the way toward happiness. Yes, we are entertained by the Bremenhaven character (who I would not be surprised if Granger didn't model him after the Steinbrenner of "Jerry Seinfeld" fame), but in the end it is the Ryan Shawn and his Cuban players overcoming all types of obstacles thrown in front of them that is the real story.

New York Yanquis is not a morality play. It's a farse about greed in the American Game. An over-simplication of complex issues like baseball ownership, free agency, and U.S. politics. But I'd recommend it as an entertaining fun read; one that brings back memories of the craziness that surrounded the Yankees and The Boss.


Steinbrenner: You know George, it struck me today me that a Communist pipeline into the vast reservoir of Cuban baseball talent could be the greatest thing ever to happen to this organization.
George: Sir?
Steinbrenner: You could be invaluable to this franchise. George,there's a southpaw down there nobody's been able to get a look at; something Rodriguez, I don't really know his name. You get yourself down to Havana right away.
George: Yes, sir. Yes sir, do my best.
Steinbrenner: Good, Merry Christmas George. And bring me back some of those cigars in the cedar boxes, you know the ones with the fancy rings? I love those fancy rings. They kind of distract you while you're smoking. The red and yellow are nice. It looks good against the brown of the cigar. The Maduro, I like the Maduro wrapper. The darker the better, that's what I say. Of course, the Claro's good too. That's more of a pale brown, almost like a milky coffee. (George exits) I find the ring size very confusing. They have it in centimeters which I don't really understand that well...

(Seinfeld, Season 6, Episode 10, December 15, 1994)

Love in the time of Red Sox

I watched Fever Pitch (Farrelly Brothers: 2005) the other night. The film is based on the autobiographical collection of short stories written by Nick Hornby (Gollancz: 1992) with the same title. Actually, the movie is a remake of the 1997 film starring Colin Firth that featured a man obsessed with the Arsenal Foot Ball club, to the point that it effected his romantic relationship.

The Farrelly brothers, converting the storyline to the U.S., cast Jimmy Fallon as a math teacher who falls in love with a financial executive. In the Farrelly's version, the character of Ben Wrightman is a rabid Boston Red Sox fan; he inherited season tickets behind the Sox dugout, holds an annual draft to determine which of his friends will attend games with him, his apartment is a shrine to Red Sox history, and he hasn't missed a game in ten years. The love interest, Lindsey Meeks, played by Drew Barrymore, is a work-aholic and baseball novice. But she's attracted by Ben's youthfulness and humor and decides to overlook his obsession, because she, herself, is obsessed with her work.

The conflict revolves around baseball and its affect on Ben and Lindsey's burgeoning relationship during the course of the 2004 season. The storyline has the relationship flowing along with the ups and downs of the Sox quest for the post-season. In the early months, the relationship rises with the hopes of a new year; Ben takes Lindsey to games and she learns about the game and the undying loyalty of Sox fans. Ben is a hit with Lindsey's friends (and particularly their husbands who envy his season tickets) and gains points with her parents by getting them a tee time at the local country club. As the summer wears on, however, the relationship cools as Ben's obsession increases and Lindsey's job beckons as she tries to gain a partnership in her firm.

As with the Red Sox quest for their first World Series pennant since 1918, Ben and Lindsey's relationship ultimately hinges on overcoming a large obstacle. For the Sox, it's the 0-3 hole they find themselves in the ALCS. For Ben and Lindsey, it is breaking the baseball bond that Ben has held on to since he was a child.

Overall, I think the movie is fun to watch: a good date flick. But, in the end, you have to wonder if the two protagonists actually have a long-term future where it's not clear whether each has compromised enough to make it last. I've never read Hornby's book. I'd be interested in seeing if the original story matches better with English football, or whether the Farrelly brothers managed to best the story with their re-telling.

The 2011 season officially opens this afternoon. I got a jump on the reading season by starting The New York Yanquis, by Bill Granger (Arcade Publishing: 1995).

Man child in the outfield

In The Greatest Slump of All Time (Harper & Row: 1984), David Carkeet presents a small ensemble cast of ten (nine players and their manager); the limited number to present a story about a baseball team. Roaming left field is Buford Ellenbogen, described by the author as "big, blond Buford". He's certainly the largest player on the team (one teammate admits he'd rather be hit by a train than have Ellenbogen run over him). Prior to becoming a professional baseball player his claim to fame was eating six consecutive entrees at his hometown Denny's. But Buford is a gentle giant; according to the team's center fielder, Eddie Johnson, Buford has "that gentle touch."

Buford is not the brightest bulb on the team, but he is full of good humor and "once or twice comes up with [a joke], himself." The team's manager believes that if he told Buford to "turn around backward in the batter's box and hang his ass over the plate, he'd do it." He is the type of person who wants to please; he tends to defer to the will of others, particularly his wife, who decided the two should get married and when, and that they should have children. He is genuinely surprised as things work out as they do, as if he had no preconceived idea as to what might or might not happen. Buford is seemingly pleased with his life. In fact, he is often seen sitting back feeling completely content to be a ballplayer.

Despite his good humor, and seemingly innocent outlook, Buford suffers from parental anxiety. He worries about the type of husband he will be, what kind of father he will become, and over how to protect his children. He decides at one point that his daughters will never be allowed in a baseball stadium where they might (both) be struck by the same line drive. Basketball games are out too (Buford images a seven foot center landing on his child and breaking her pelvis); going to football games could be bad, as well, as winter is full of snow storms and icy roads. (Indoor track? he wonders - no, the roof might cave in). Buford learns by trial and error. He overcomes his parental anxiety by practicing parenthood on a teammate's child (with mixed results), but in the end it is fatherhood that propels him to stardom. During the World Series, he hits a winning grand slam and throws out the potential winning run at the plate in extra innings all the while thinking of how he spent the previous night changing diapers.

In this small cast of characters, Buford Ellenbogen proves to be bigger than his physical build. Buford's character is not the lovable loser who initially appears in the story, but more the big dumb oaf who lumbers out to the plate and laughs at everyone's bad jokes. He's the overgrown kid, the innocent who in the end you discover is more adult than anyone else.

Brooklyn and baseball

1955. Brooklyn. Dodgers. Dem Bums. Robinson. Giants. Yankees. New York. The Golden Age of baseball. The Cold War. Coney Island. Television... Philip Goldberg's This is Next Year (Ballentine: 1992) paints a rich tapestry before which his protagonist, eleven-year old Roger Stone walks. If you've read The Boys of Summer, by Roger Kahn, the character of Roger Stone is a conglomeration of the stereotypical Brooklynite. He lives and dies with his Dodgers; his passion for "dem Bums" never wanes. Roger narrates the 1955 season when the Dodgers made it to the World Series - lead by Snider, Robinson, Hodges and Reese - and finally beat the dreaded Yankees. This is Next Year is not just a baseball story, but a coming-of-age tale. Roger's story leads us through the streets and back alleys of Brooklyn during the mid-50s: the novel is filled with references to stickball games, egg creams and cherry cokes; everyone smoking cigarettes or having a hot dog at Nathan's, and schoolkids with earphones listening to baseball games during class.

Along with the scenery, we are introduced to Roger's family - his two brothers Hubbell and Hank("Round Man") - like Roger (after Rogers Hornsby) - named after stars of the age: Carl Hubbell, and Hank Greenberg. And there are his friends: Klinger and Iggy, as well as a host of other characters Roger goes to school and plays stickball with, and who generally hang out on the street corner arguing the merits of various ballplayers or the virtues of girls who they are acquainted. Apart from Roger's parents, the other adults - equally as engaging as Roger's school-age friends - are neighbors and shopkeepers from the immediate vicinity, but each have their supporting roles in the overall flow of the story.

And, then there's "The Thing": Roger's conception of fate. Named after the monster of the 1951 film, The Thing is Roger's method of reconciling why his beloved Dodgers continue to flail away at success, as well as his own 6th grade trials and tribulations. When something doesn't work out, it is because The Thing reared its fatalistic head.

At times, Goldberg seems to go a bit overboard with his narrative. If Next Year were a painting, it would be crowded with detail of Brooklyn and the events and culture of the mid-20th century. But perhaps this is the point - we are led through a tale, not by that 11 year-old boy, but by his aging memory. A memory that projects like a feature film: fade to black as the story begins and the entire tale is a movie flash-back projected onto the big screen. Instead of a backdrop larger than life (and mostly out of sight to a youngster), we have the scene set by someone who can look back and see his surroundings.

I remember that after I read this book for the first time - shortly after it was released in 1992 - I thought it was a very good story, full of tiny details; not entirely a baseball novel, but a story of a boy growing up in the shadow of bigger things. I would still recommend This is Next Year, but probably throw in a caveat or two about the overwhelming minutiae that accompanies the story. Overall, though, it is an enjoyable read. Goldberg initially promised that Next Year would be the first of a trilogy - presumably to follow along until the Dodgers left for Los Angeles, or so. But no sequels have ever appeared. Goldberg went on to a career in inspirational books. This is Next Year has been his only novel.

Birthday greetings

Robert Coover, author of one of the most acclaimed baseball novels, The Universal Baseball Association, Inc., J. Henry Waugh, Prop. (Random House: 1968), celebrated his 79th birthday, today. Though to many of us, The Universal Baseball Association is one of the pinnacles of baseball literature, Coover is probably more well known (at least in wider circles) for The Public Burning (Viking: 1977), a satirical novel about the Julius and Ethel Rosenberg case. His only other sports-related work was the novella: Whatever Happened to Gloomy Gus of the Chicago Bears (Simon & Schuster: 1987), which profered an alternated history of Richard Nixon - a man obsessed with football and sex. Coover is a professor of Literary Arts and Writer-in-Residence at Brown.

Characters behind the plate

Audry, Barlow Road Grade School Pioneers (Bat 6)
Chuck Arnold, New York Lions (The Last Great Season)
Waxahachie Beckland, Splendid Dominican Tourists (Brittle Innings)
"Blockade" Billy Blakely, New Jersey Titans (Blockade Billy)
Bubba Broadax, Smackover High School (Fielder's Choice)
Joe Louis Brown, Graceville Oilers (Long Gone)
Joe Buck Cartwell, Arkansas Reds (The Dixie Association)
Tim Connell, Lions (Chance)
Chico Hernandez, Veracruz Blues (Veracruz Blues)
Dean Larson, Washington Memorials (The Spring Habit)
Boon Lions, Oxford Fury (The Dixie Association)
Bingo Long, All-Stars (The Bingo Long Traveling All-Stars & Motor Kings)
Phil Nagle, Boston Blues (Conduct of the Game)
Bruce Pearson, New York Mammoths (The Southpaw)
Hothead Ptah, Rupert Mundys (The Great American Novel)
Petashne, Wichita Wraith (Babe Ruth Caught in a Snowstorm)
"Turkey" Sloan, Highbridge Hellbenders (Brittle Innings)
Earl Smith, Chicago Blades (Conduct of the Game)
Matty Sternweiss, St. Louis Browns (Big League Dreams)
Tootie, Bear Creek Grade School Ridgers (Bat 6)
Hank West, Brooklyn Dodgers (World Series)

A simple choice

In a similar vein as Mark Harris' Henry Wiggen with a touch of Ring Lardner's Jack Keefe, Rick Norman presents Andrew Jackson Fielder. Fielder's Choice (August House: 1991) is a baseball memoir with "Jax" Fielder recalling his life as a small-town Arkansas pitcher and war veteran. Narrating his life to an unnamed Army officer after the war, Jax paints a roller coaster of a story. As a high school pitcher, Fielder invents the "gooseball", a sidearm throw that seemed to rise as it closed on the plate. Fielder's success with the gooseball eventually earns him a spot on the St. Louis Browns. Like Wiggen and Keefe, Fielder is a rather simple soul who innocently moves about in a complicated world.

Fielder's career with the Browns in short. He signs in 1940, spends much of the 1941 season with the minor league Toledo Mudhens, and then is called up in August to try and help the Browns secure a pennant. Unfortunately, Fielder's ultimate claim to fame in baseball is not his pitching (despite his brilliance on the mound), but his error in the final game of the season that would have brought the Brownies the pennant. Of course, this being the fall of 1941, any hope for a lengthy career (and restoring his reputation) are cut short when America is drawn into the War.

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Jax immediately volunteers. He is eventually sent into combat in the spring of 1945 as a gunner on a B-29. In Norman's continuing tale of lucky ups and downs, Fielder is "ejected" over Japan after his plane is attacked. He is captured and sent to a POW camp. At the camp, however, his identity as a Major League pitcher is discovered by a Japanese admiral who has Fielder transferred to his personal care. The admiral's wish is for Jax to teach the admiral's son, Yoshi, to pitch. And Fielder obliges.

While Fielder is a rather simple individual, but his life is full of complications. Because of his trusting personality, though, he doesn't fully realize just how convoluted his life really becomes until much later. Jax blindly accepts the role of pitching coach, but in seemingly innocent conversations with the admiral blurts out possibly damaging intelligence because he feels he's no longer serving in the Army. And his encounters with his sister-in-law, Dixie, gradually cause discord between himself and his brothers. Overall, Fielder's boat of life appears to follow a downward spiral solely due to Jax's innocence. But like Henry Wiggen, in the end he bobs to the surface without any serious damage.

Fielder's Choice is a charming tale of decency and honor amidst darkness and obstacles. The comparisons with The Southpaw and You Know Me Al are unavoidable, but Fielder's Choice is wonderful in its own terms. The character of Jax Fielder is certainly not Jack Keefe - while he is a simpleton, his naivete does not stretch as far as that of Lardner's character. And while the similarities between Fielder and Wiggen are closer, Fielder actually handles his situations in a much more mature manner. His displays of bravery and principle, I think, are much deeper than found in Henry Wiggen. This is a highly enjoyable story and one to be added to any collection.

Ron Chapman: why not the next Joe DiMaggio?

Rookie superstars are always compared to stars of previous generations. Carl Yastrzemski was to be the next Ted Williams - and that was understandable as he followed so closely with Williams' departure. Similarly, when Bobby Bonds was introduced as the newest Giants outfielder, he was touted as the next Willie Mays.

Ron Chapman is the rookie phenom of the New York Barons in John Hough, Jr.'s The Conduct of the Game (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt: 1986). Chapman actually plays a minor supporting role in the story, acting partly as antagonist to the novel's central character, umpire Lee Malcolm, as well as a representative of racism and bigotry during the book's 1960s setting. Actual prejudice, however, is never really displayed by anyone. Chapman relays his feelings of being biased against through his statements toward Malcolm. He feels that his race is the ultimate reason calls are made against him. When he is compared to Willie Mays by a sportswriter, he fires back - asking why he shouldn't be called the next Joe DiMaggio or Babe Ruth.

Chapman is fond of stating that his struggle through baseball has been akin to "picking cotton." But his record does not bear out the type of obstacles that one would associate with someone having to overcome racial bias. He is a graduate of UCLA, spent one year in both A and AAA ball before being promoted to the Majors. Hough portrays Chapman, though, as the stereotypical African American with a two-hundred year chip on his shoulder. Chapman is driven, and arrogant and seemingly in the hunt for a fight. But there seems to be a degree of conflict within Chapman in regards to racial inequality. In several instances - such as when called out in a close play, or tossed from a game, his response is one of "you can't do that", but when umpire Malcolm tries to settle tensions down by using Chapman's first name, Chapman's retort is one of "you don't know me" (as in "you don't know where I'm from or what I've had to endure").

Overall, because one of the underlying themes of the book revolves around prejudice, Chapman's character is never allowed to fully change in the main character's mind. But we do learn that Chapman has a different side - he helps disadvantaged youths, has been arrested during Civil Rights protests, and even becomes involved with a white woman. In a story centered around Ron Chapman I think we would see his character evolve to be more sympathetic. And that might mean that instead of playing with a scowl of distrust, Chapman would wear a smile (and display a love for the game) that would result in him being the next DiMaggio or Mantle or Robinson or, even Willie Mays.