In 1989 this was certainly a Five Star book. It’s obviously dated now in regards to players, team dynamics, and so forth to the degree that it probably ranks a three at best for those that keep up with the sport. And, I suppose, it garners a zero for those who don’t. As I’m chronically behind the times (I got verbally accosted just the other night for admitting that I’ve never seen Blade Runner, as “ALL architect’s love Blade Runner!” apparently…) I see no reason to evaluate this based on contemporary relevance. For my part, James’s essays cover a span of time that saw me transition from a MLB city kid sorting through thousands of baseball cards to an aloof, uninterested teen living in a rural outpost that Baseball forgot (or one that forgot baseball existed as the case may be). So this was something of a long overdue exercise in catching up to 1990.
That being said, there’s much that still must be poignant to the profession as it exists today. His account of arbitration structure and intent, the impossible situation with Minor League baseball organizations and their host cities/towns - the 1990’s surge in fun and cutesy new stadiums notwithstanding – and, generally, the value and limitations of statistics in telling a/the story. As something of a (mostly) statistic-free synopsis to his once annual Baseball Abstract, this is a “Best Of” encyclopedia that probably wasn’t read cover-to-cover much even back in the day. But, as I seem to have acquired a viral strain of procrastination in relation to some other stuff I should be reading, I decided to stick with it after an introductory reading about how the Houston Astros are an “acquired taste” like Russian Film, Jazz, modern sculpture, and fat women.
The pieces oscillate between hilarious (Enos Cabell and the “Dreadful Women” occupying a 1985 World Series bleacher seat who had a voice like a “clarinet with a broken reed, set to the volume of an air horn”) to the relatively dull or obscure (Joe Orsulak?). His previous annual Abstracts were apparently jam-packed with his statistical “sabermetrics” investigating – beyond presumably general statistical developments – curiosities such as whether a player who attended at least one year of junior college will statistically hit more doubles in August on artificial turf against aging left-handers than those who were drafted right out of High School. Obviously I made that one up but not by much. In lieu of traditional footnotes, his concluding chapter covers some of the greatest hits of his (and others’) MythBusters-like pursuits of putting dusty old manager truisms to the statistical test. It’s brief, interesting, and thankfully devoid of all the numbers.
The other parts are well written, clever-yet-serious, and often entertaining. This clearly isn’t for everyone; I suppose one would have to not hate baseball to enjoy this. But really, I’m no serious baseball fanatic. I’m an out-of-town-Astros-fan type of fan. This means I get around to logging into any given game online during the second inning and then give up around the fourth when It’s clear that the team itself has given up. Definitely an acquired taste. The author has worked for my local baseball organization for years and was likely a significant contributor to the team’s 2004 and 2007 World Series championships...or so I read the other day in book about election reform. That’s the type of baseball aficionado I am. If a two-decade dated Bill James can engage the attention of a casual half-asser such as myself, then this must be a good read.