Tim Kurkjian is a fellow native Marylander, but I have mixed feelings about this book. I learned a lot from reading his book but I found some errors. There were also some facts that I think should have been included in the book; maybe they were but were edited out.
My attention was immediately focused on something I often don’t read, the Forward of a book. In this case, it was written by George Will, an avid baseball fan. He mentioned a book I read about sixty years ago: THE THINKING MAN’S GUIDE TO BASEBALL by Leonard Koppett, and its first and only word in its first paragraph: FEAR. Will goes on to write,
“Sentimentalists may speak of ballplayers as ‘boys of summer’ but in fact they are men, and their work is dangerous. They are, as Tim says, ‘hard men playing a hard game.’
I very much appreciated this comment. For years I have heard commentators and fans speak of baseball as a child’s game played by overpaid men. It has been my contention for years that baseball is an adult game revised so that children could play it. Kurkjian addressed this near the end of the book.
The chapter SOUNDS OF THE GAME, from the mound in this case, hit home and is connected to the word FEAR. After playing Little League baseball for four seasons, I tried out for the teener team. It was the first time that I heard the ball coming toward me. FEAR immediately came back to me; I didn't make the team.
Instead of using nine quotations to illustrate the sound of a pitched ball, I think the chapter would have been enhanced if Kurkjian had used a story that was recorded in a record album celebrating Baseball’s one hundredth anniversary in 1969. The story is told by what we would call “an old timer,” (unidentified) about his first at bat against Washington Senators great Walter Johnson,
“The first time up I thought I was in a beehive. I heard three buzzes and the umpire said ‘You’re out.’ Just like three bees flying by. Buzz Buzz Buzz.”
In telling his readers about his fascination with sacrifice flies, Kurkjian omitted a little item that may never come into play but could make or break a record thought to be unbreakable. That record is Joe DiMaggio's 56 game hitting streak, set in 1941. Kurkjian would find this box score line intriguing: 0-3-0-1; no at bats, three runs, no hits, one RBI. I exaggerated the numbers a bit, and one could interpret these numbers in at least three ways. In the context of a hitting streak, a streak would continue if every plate appearance resulted in a base on balls and/or a hit by pitch. But we are also looking at sacrifice flies and that would explain the RBI. It would also end the streak.
Kurkjian tells a story about Ken Griffey, Jr. and of his first time in the batting cage at the Kingdome after he had been drafted with the first overall pick by the Seattle Mariners,
“Most 18-year-olds would be nervous hitting in a big-league park in front of big leaguers, but Griffey was so talented, he was hitting line drives all over the field as he was carrying on a conversation with the media.” What Kurkjian does not mention is that Griffey is the son of Ken Griffey, Sr. who played for the Cincinnati Reds during some of their greatest years. Griffey, Sr. later played for the New York Yankees and the Atlanta Braves during his son’s growing-up years. He was with the Braves when Junior was drafted by the Mariners. I believe it is likely that Junior had a few batting practice sessions, perhaps at Riverfront Stadium but also in Atlanta, that his first time batting at the Kingdome was not his first in a major-league park.
Chapter 11, titled OBITS, was particularly touching. I met Earl Weaver, one of four baseball personalities highlighted, at the 1992 Orioles Fantasy Camp in Sarasota, Florida. A picture of us is prominently displayed in my bedroom.
Another of the four, Tony Gwynn, died much too early, age 54 from cancer. Kurkjian writes of Gwynn’s first hit, a double in 1982 against the Philles. In the same paragraph, he wrote,
“Gwynn didn’t become only the all-time hit leader, he became the best hitter since Ted Williams,…”
Gwynn did not become the all-time hit leader; Pete Rose still holds that honor.
Kurkjian wrote in the next paragraph,
“The day he was inducted into the Hall of Fame with Cal Ripken --- how appropriate is that?---…” Kurkjian does not explain why he thought this appropriate. Perhaps it is because Ripken had announced his retirement nine days before Gwynn; both were presented with the Commissioner’s Historic Achievement Award by Commissioner Bud Selig at the All Star Game; both played their entire careers with just one team; both were elected in their first year of eligibility; both appeared on Wheaties boxes. (a box with Ripken’s picture is in my den.)
Kurkjian does mention the attendance record at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony, but he does not tell us that it tripled the old record.
Don Zimmer and Mike Flanagan were the others profiled in the OBITS chapter. Kurkjian tells us of a story Flanagan told concerning the last Orioles game at Memorial Stadium, October 6, 1991. (Cal Ripken would retire exactly ten years later.) What Kurkjian does not tell us is that with one out in the top of the ninth inning, with the Orioles hopelessly behind, the sellout crowd, of which I was one of over fifty thousand there, chanted for manager Johnny Oates to bring Flanagan out of the bullpen to finish the inning. Oates did and Flanagan was lustily cheered as he walked in from the left field bullpen. He struck out the last two Tigers hitters.
Some sections in the book remind me of Yogi Berra’s response to the firing of long-time Yankees play-by-play voice Mel Allen in 1964: “Too many words.”
Four stars waning