Baseball is one of my two or three favorite things in the world. So why does this collection by the universally most acclaimed writer on the subject leave me sort of cold? It’s well-written and perceptive, always ready with a clever or unexpected turn of phrase to balance the workmanlike descriptions. But I think for me, the delights of baseball are so visual and auditory that reading about it produces more of a feeling of dissatisfaction than pleasure. I’m also reading Ulysses and I’ve been thinking how the rhythms of the stream of consciousness of the book are sort of similar to what a transcript of a ballgame on the radio would look like — anecdotes, statistics, conversation, and ephemera punctuated by description, “change-up outside, ball two,” “bounced to short — crawford has it — the throw to first…intime! for the out.” And for me nothing you can write about in nice sentences really matches the richness or poetry of that experience, even though it’s unintentional, or the aesthetic beauty of the game itself.
Sorry to indulge in a corny, grandiose metaphor (something baseball seems to draw out of you even as you try to resist) but your Vin Scullys and Jon Millers really are sort of our modern Homeric bards, the only people left in society who have to use nothing but their voice to captivate for a long stretch. And you can have a wonderful experience with The Odyssey on the page but it won’t be the same as hearing it recited around a fire. Reading about paintings or films can give them a renewed glow and vigor, you are able to see things that you couldn’t see before. But individual baseball games, even the best ones, aren’t masterpieces that you can return to again and again. They’re luminous in the moment and then start to succumb to entropy right after the last out. So when you’re writing about social context, individual players, seasonal narratives and all that, even though that stuff is interesting, in a sense you are writing around The Thing Itself.
(No coincidence here that the best pieces by far were the long profile of Bob Gibson and the one following a scout at work in the Kentucky backwoods, as writing about individuals is much easier than writing about teams. I guess that’s why tennis and boxing routinely produce the greatest sports writing. Baseball has this with pitchers and football with quarterbacks, but it’s not quite the same.)