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When I came across this book at my local Barnes and Noble bookstore, I had the impression that this would be a collection of fairly straightforward articles in the sports journalism genre. Instead, I was delighted to find that the writer, Ira Berkow, tends to express more than the topic at hand. Often, his knowledge of and experience with baseball in general and the New York Mets in particular seeps into his prose, and the result is that he is able to address both specific details as well as larger truths.
In Summers at Shea: Tom Seaver Loses His Overcoat and Other Mets Stories, Berkow has arranged a variety of his articles composed over a career that aligned with nearly the Mets' full run at Shea Stadium. As he establishes in the introduction, this is "not an encyclopedic chronicle of events" (xvi), and this goes a long way toward the success of the book. From one chapter to the next, the reader is whisked from one end of the Mets' history to the other along a theme that is established and developed as the sequence of articles is traversed. Oftentimes, Berkow is not only recounting a given game or moment but also putting forth a thesis whether it is simply implied or quite direct, as in "Moron of the Month," his 1991 piece about the relationship between beer advertising and baseball--and exploring baseball's responsibility for educating its fans. Among my favorite articles, and ones I would recommend flipping to first, are the following: - "Fickle Fans at Shea Give Piazza a Break," offering an interesting glimpse at Mike Piazza circa 1998 before he became a Metropolitan legend; - "Willie Mays at Twilight," an article from 1973 that humanized Mays for me in a way that his statistics have not; - "Warren Spahn and Casey, Before and After," wherein a story is woven based on the interactions of these two baseball greats ("Casey" being, of course, Casey Stengel); - "Farewell, Sweet Pitcher," a 1987 feature on the occasion of Tom Seaver's retirement, and "Seaver Derails the Big Train," a 1975 article, each of which served to enlighten me a bit further as to Seaver's legend in Mets history; - "Mickey Mantle and Keith Hernandez, Two No. 7s," a 1986 text that delves into the finer points of balancing hero worship with a special focus on Hernandez's insight; and - "Jackie Robinson and Ed Charles, Among Others," a 1972 article that concisely delves into elements of Robinson's later life and legacy beyond the typical biographical notes with which I imagine most are familiar. I would be remiss if I didn't note my interest in articles focused on David Wright and Mike Pelfrey, each very early in their respective careers. Also, "Sweeping Wave of Metmania Hardly Ripples Walden Pond" offered a fun run through a mock interview with American transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau in which each question is "answered" by Thoreau through quotations from his writings. All in all, Berkow's book stands as a testament to the wide range of Mets-related work he produced during his career and offers a journalistic reference well-suited to fans of the Mets, or baseball in general. THE CALL ON THE FIELD: This finely curated collection of articles by Ira Berkow is a solid four TARDISes out of five. In this case, history doesn't change as a result of your experiences, but rather your understanding of baseball history -- if you're anything like me -- will be altered and expanded in ways both subtle and wonderful. (I realize I'm mixing my fandoms here, so suffice it to say that a TARDIS is a time machine from Doctor Who.)
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On "The Manager: Tony La Russa, On Edge"Not long ago, I picked out George F. Will's Men at Work (1990) amidst a sea of baseball-related literature on the shelves of my local Barnes & Noble for, it turns out, quite the same reason that Will wrote the book: I yearned to understand the game in a way to which the observation of modern games and study of statistics could only contribute but never fully satisfy. As he notes in the introduction to the 2010 edition, "As an amateur student of baseball, I wrote this book during the 1988 and 1989 seasons, not to say what I knew about baseball -- which, I soon discovered, was not much -- but rather because no one had written it for me" (xiv). Fortunately for me, there was a book available when I went searching.
In this post, I'll address the first section of the book, "The Manager." (Will neatly divides his book into four parts, as is the game: manager, pitcher, batter, and fielder.) Although I did not appreciate this quality in myself initially, I was forced to admit that I perceived managers in a way I've criticized in others before: I felt I understood how managing worked because I'd watched it happening so many times. This, of course, is a limiting perception, as if one could understand acting on Broadway because I'd seen "x" number of performances. As a Mets fan, I'd watched -- and continue to watch -- many games managed by Terry Collins, alternately praising and criticizing his decisions. However, reading Will's study of Tony La Russa, then-manager of the Oakland Athletics, reminded me that viewing the game as a fan provides only one level of understanding. Much of the first half of Will's chapter is a dizzying mix of contexts, both regarding La Russa and baseball history. However, it is a delightful dizziness that serves, I think, to spur the interested student of baseball onward. In reviewing this chapter in anticipation of my post, I found that I could follow it much more clearly, and so it is perhaps a book that not only bears but also encourages multiple readings. Despite his suggestion that this book came about as a result of a learning process, Will manages consistently to have a suggestion for the reader and to provide ample evidence for his assertions. He also interweaves a number of purposes; in addition to the manager, the reader is apt to learn about La Russa as a person, the backstage goings-on of the Athletics, trends in baseball since early in the century, and much more. The second half of "The Manager" concerns itself with matters of statistical analysis as well as guiding principles and philosophies that reveal how La Russa relied on intelligence, common sense, and the human element in order to manage his teams. Will takes a deep dive into the nuances of La Russa's approach, and he deftly sidesteps at times to address matters such as the debate about designated hitters (should there be one?). Largely, he draws on conversations with the Athletics' manager to explore topics such as retaliation (as in whether and how to strike back after a batter on one's team has been hit), stealing techniques (when and how to steal in various situations), etc. All in all, Will manages to focus his narrative on one manager while simultaneously accounting for the bigger picture of management in the game of baseball. This model should serve to sustain and vary the reading experience throughout all four sections. THE CALL ON THE FIELD: This first part of Men at Work is a solid triple. Not one of those triples that happens because someone in the outfield screwed up -- an authentic, well-deserved three-bagger. I look forward to the second chapter ("The Pitcher") and will report back soon. I just began reading Philip Roth's The Great American Novel. Whether I will consider it the "great American novel" remains to be seen, though somehow I doubt that any text titled as such will actually succeed in earning the distinction. It would be like a friend asking you: have you heard the "greatest band in the world"? I would answer: why yes, I've heard recordings and seen live performances by the Beach Boys, Barenaked Ladies, etc. (given my mood on that day). However, this friend was referring to the band with the name The Greatest Band in the World. I don't imagine I would be running out to pick up an album by this group (or, to show my age less, running in to my computer/smartphone to download their tracks.
You can earn the distinction or make it your name, but I wouldn't expect the two to overlap. However, I have greatly enjoyed and appreciated the Roth novels I've read in the past, so I am going to give this one a try. Having only read the first few pages, it is already clear that he has conducted serious research into baseball during the preparation for this novel and that he is experimenting with the narrative voice, which has initially thrown me a bit but promises to be rewarding if I persevere. As I read, I'm wondering:
That's all for now: very much introductory. I'll report again once I'm further into the novel. |
Off the Shelf explores the intersection of baseball and literature, both fiction and nonfiction. Here, book discussions address implications of past writing on current baseball and/or society, while book reviews evaluate and editorialize.
WftF.com is a blog by a baseball fan -- and a Mets fan specifically -- who is learning his way into the wide world of baseball history, current events, debates, literature, and personal connections to the above.
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