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.