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Baseball Wit and Wisdom: Folklore of a National Pastime
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January 27, 2011
My first important baseball memory was Bill Mazerowski’s game-winning home run in the 1960 World Series. Since Baseball Wit and Wisdom: Folklore of a National Pastime was published in 1962, it should be clear that most of the stories and anecdotes occurred not only before my time but before I was even aware of baseball. But one of the great strengths of baseball is the fact that, as a statistics-friendly sport, one can always compare the statistics of the greats with the performances of the current players—even if it is comparing apples to oranges because of rules changes, new stadiums, and “the juice.” So, even though I started following baseball at almost the same time this book was being compiled, I’ve been interested in the history of baseball since Day 1 of my fandom.
As a result, it’s fascinating to read about the discovery of Rogers Hornsby and Lou Gehrig, as well as read about the drinking exploits of Paul Waner and Babe Ruth. Reading this book really humanizes the game. Much of the book is a compilation of sports stories and reminiscences from people who played the game or early sportswriters. One of the by-lines in the book was Melvin Durslag, a Los Angeles reporter that I remember reading up until about the time I was in college. The book is about 90% of what I was expecting, but the other 10% was disappointing either because I just didn’t know the characters or couldn’t identify with the era. But there were parts I liked a lot and I want to share some of them. If you don’t like these anecdotes, you probably won’t like the book as a whole.
Babe Ruth had been drinking the night before and he wasn’t really on top of his game against the Washington Senators during a day game. Walter Johnson was pitching and threw three straight called strikes by him. Ruth turned to the umpire and asked if he’d actually seen any of the three pitches. When the umpire conceded that he really hadn’t, the Babe said, “Neither did I, but that last one sounded kind of high.” (p. 120)
And, while I never saw Lefty O’Doul play, I loved the story about his encounter with identity theft. It seems a fellow identified himself as Lefty in a local drinking establishment and paid the bar tab with a bounced check. Lefty came to the bar in person to prove to the bartender that he wasn’t the guy, but he was generous enough that he settled the beer anyway. Now, although a great hitter, Lefty wasn’t one of the better fielders in baseball. So, he told the guy to hit a pop fly (“fungo”) to anyone who claimed to be Lefty from that day forward. If he was to catch it, the major leaguer told the bartender, it would be certain that he was a phony. (p. 167)
I never saw Casey Stengel play, either, but I did see him manage both the Yankees and the Mets during the ‘60s. I can just imagine the time he walked into a barber shop for a shave after his team had lost a double-header. He asked for a shave and said, “Don’t cut my throat. I may want to do that later myself.” (p. 203).
My biggest disappointment with the book was that there weren’t any columns by the late Jim Murray, for years the poet laureate of the Los Angeles Times sports page. But there was some good writing in there, particularly the colorful similes. I don’t think I would have enjoyed watching the pitcher who “couldn’t throw a meat ball past a fat boy” or the infielder who handled “grounders like his legs were wickets in a croquet game.”
All in all, it’s an excellent resource that will be staying in my library for a while.
As a result, it’s fascinating to read about the discovery of Rogers Hornsby and Lou Gehrig, as well as read about the drinking exploits of Paul Waner and Babe Ruth. Reading this book really humanizes the game. Much of the book is a compilation of sports stories and reminiscences from people who played the game or early sportswriters. One of the by-lines in the book was Melvin Durslag, a Los Angeles reporter that I remember reading up until about the time I was in college. The book is about 90% of what I was expecting, but the other 10% was disappointing either because I just didn’t know the characters or couldn’t identify with the era. But there were parts I liked a lot and I want to share some of them. If you don’t like these anecdotes, you probably won’t like the book as a whole.
Babe Ruth had been drinking the night before and he wasn’t really on top of his game against the Washington Senators during a day game. Walter Johnson was pitching and threw three straight called strikes by him. Ruth turned to the umpire and asked if he’d actually seen any of the three pitches. When the umpire conceded that he really hadn’t, the Babe said, “Neither did I, but that last one sounded kind of high.” (p. 120)
And, while I never saw Lefty O’Doul play, I loved the story about his encounter with identity theft. It seems a fellow identified himself as Lefty in a local drinking establishment and paid the bar tab with a bounced check. Lefty came to the bar in person to prove to the bartender that he wasn’t the guy, but he was generous enough that he settled the beer anyway. Now, although a great hitter, Lefty wasn’t one of the better fielders in baseball. So, he told the guy to hit a pop fly (“fungo”) to anyone who claimed to be Lefty from that day forward. If he was to catch it, the major leaguer told the bartender, it would be certain that he was a phony. (p. 167)
I never saw Casey Stengel play, either, but I did see him manage both the Yankees and the Mets during the ‘60s. I can just imagine the time he walked into a barber shop for a shave after his team had lost a double-header. He asked for a shave and said, “Don’t cut my throat. I may want to do that later myself.” (p. 203).
My biggest disappointment with the book was that there weren’t any columns by the late Jim Murray, for years the poet laureate of the Los Angeles Times sports page. But there was some good writing in there, particularly the colorful similes. I don’t think I would have enjoyed watching the pitcher who “couldn’t throw a meat ball past a fat boy” or the infielder who handled “grounders like his legs were wickets in a croquet game.”
All in all, it’s an excellent resource that will be staying in my library for a while.
Displaying 1 of 1 review