I have given major props to the L.A. Daily News‘ Tom Hoffarth for his thoughtful month-long series of baseball book reviews. Today’s the last day, so here’s his “whole freakin’ list” which lists and links all 30 titles.
He was also gracious enough — self-promotion alert — to mention The Bookshelf in his wrap-up. Thanks for the plug, Tom.
Few things get me misty eyed, but I couldn’t even get through the opening paragraphs of George Vecsey’s column today, about the compassion of opponents at a women’s college softball game.
As you will read, Sara Tucholsky, a Western Oregon senior with a four-year batting average way south of .200 had a dream come true when she launched a pitch over the fence for the only home run of her college career — and promptly hurt herself on the basepaths. Rules dictate that she would be called out if aided by a teammate and that if she could not continue, the hit would be a two-run single. But Mallory Holtman, the first baseman for the Central Washington team, asked the umpires if it would be okay if she and a teammate carried Tucholsky.
The umpires huddled and said it would be legal, so Holtman and the … shortstop, Liz Wallace, lifted Tucholsky, hands crossed under her, and carried her to second base, and gently lowered her so she could touch the base. Then Holtman and Wallace started to giggle, and so did Tucholsky, through her tears, and the three of them continued this odd procession to third base and home to a standing ovation.
Vecsey notes he learned about the story from other sources, so I’m linking to the ESPN article.
In the words of that great philosopher Tony Kornheiser, “how great is that?”
Oh “great”; here we go again.
Although the author doesn’t employ “greatest” or “best” in his title, The Last Great Pennant Race does have connotations that there haven’t been any since.
I’m guessing thousands, if not millions, of fans would beg to differ.
From a GKG press release:
It wouldn’t be spring without baseball. Nor would it be spring without the annual “Art of Baseball” exhibition at the George Krevsky Gallery.
Now in its 11th year, the exhibit opens with a reception on Thursday, May 1st, and will be on view through Saturday, June 7th.
This year’s theme – Building a Team – refers not just to the coach’s task of choosing a roster to play the game, but also to the curator’s task of bringing together talented artists from all over the country who depict the game that obsesses fans of all ages. For five weeks the gallery’s walls will be densely hung with over 40 artworks by more than 25 artists; men and women who interpret Abner Doubleday’s invention through an artist’s eye.
“You can observe a lot by watching,” Yogi Berra said. You can also learn a lot about our national pastime by looking at the remarkable range of artworks that will be on view — from hyperrealism to folk art, from commentary on current issues confronting the game to unapologetic doses of pure nostalgia. “Building a Team” will be a visual delight for the baseball lover, the art lover, and the many people who love them both.
For more information and additional images from the exhibition, please visit our website at www.georgekrevskygallery.com.
The Wall Street Journal also ran this review by Pete Hausler of the new bio on the Yog by Carlo Devito.
In sifting through [more than 4,000 sources], Mr. DeVito makes what seems initially like a strange choice: He includes many stories, anecdotes, and quotes that are now widely considered to be apocryphal (his word). Mr. DeVito, in good faith, states this fact whenever he’s sure that the story is not entirely true. It feels like an odd strategy for a biography, but the more these incidents appear in “Yogi,” the more it makes sense to include them.
Because, as Mr. DeVito makes abundantly clear, there are and always have been two Yogi Berras: 1) the public celebrity — a goofy, good-natured, strange-looking (sportswriters at the time used far-worse adjectives), malaprop-spewing simpleton from the Italian slums of St. Louis and 2) the real person behind the public persona, a far more complex and intelligent character.
![[Yogi Berra]](http://s.wsj.net/public/resources/images/OB-BI953_yogi_b_20080428180210.jpg)
The review is supplemented with an excerpt from the book.
It’s still early in the season, but the pitchers seem way ahead of the hitters. Some sluggers are faring pretty poorly (Carlos Delgado, Prince Fielder, Frank Thomas, among others). Run production is down, as are home 
runs. Seeing any correlation between this and the Mitchell Report?
Speaking of steroids, Barry Bonds is still “on holiday,” as noted by this piece in The Wall Street Journal. Not that Bonds is George Bailey by any stretch, but as much as you might not want to admit it, his life touched many others. An interactive feature of the article shows what his departure has meant to various people at Pac Bell, including the guy who rents the kayaks for McCovey Cove; the Giants’ media relations and “stadium logistics” guys; the sales vendor (whose sales of rubber chickens used to taunt opposing pitchers is down 20 percent), and the home run seeker and other fans.
Pirates vs. Yankees, October 13, 1960, by Jim Reisler (Carroll & Graf)
I thought I had addressed this book when it came out, but evidently I was think about Reisler’s previous book, A Great Day in Cooperstown: The Miraculous and Unlikely Beginning of the Baseball Hall of Fame.
To me, “Best” is on a par with “Greatest” and one should be careful in its use. Sure, the seventh game of the ‘60 series was one for the books, dramatic and exceedingly happy for a town that had not enjoyed such success in many decades. And I’m sure there are many who witnessed the come-from-behind victory and did decree it as the “best game ever,” a conceit that has been popping up more and more of late.
To be honest, I read this one when it first came out and do not remember details, other than looking at it with suspicion based on Reisler’s previous work. My problem is in the craftsmanship more than the title.
As he did in A Great Day, Reisler makes several egregious factual errors. In A Great Day, the largest commission was attributing a quote to a player purported to be at the opening of the Hall who had been deceased long before the event.
Several reviews I’ve read on this book forgive Reisler and his editors the typos and over-sentimentality, but my philosophy is that if these are errors we’ve caught, what have we missed? What are we taking on faith versus what is not true (see the dead man’s quote above)? Perhaps I’m being overly harsh? I must be, since it was deemed worthy of consideration as a finalist for Spitball Magazine’s Casey Award, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Other reviews for The Best Game Ever:
Two baseball related items in the May 2 issue of The Week: The Book List has mini-capsule reviews of four titles including But Didn’t We Have Fun?, The Greatest Game; We Would Have Played for Nothing; and The Code. In “The last word” section, “The truth about baseball’s roots” is excerpted from Kevin Baker’s “At the Ballpark” essay which appears in the new anthology Anatomy of Baseball.
In my "day job," I'm the features and sports editor for a weekly New Jersey newspaper. I'm also the editor of the Bibliography Committee Newsletter for the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR).
I did a piece on the award-winning cartoonist and he was nice enough to "immortalize" me.
What I'm reading now:
Heidegger and a Hippo Walk Through Those Pearly Gates: Using Philosophy (and Jokes!) to Explore Life, Death, the Afterlife, and Everything in Between
What I just read:
Paul McCarthey: A Life:, by Peter Ames Carlin
Grade: B. Pleasant enough; no sensational material. McCartney could be a right bastard at times, but aren't we all?
What's next:
L'Époque Glorieuse des Expos, by Alain Usereau
My article on the later biographies of Babe Ruth appears in
My article on the Mets' 1969 post-season appears in
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