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Benchclearing: Baseball's Greatest Fights and Riots
A colorful study of violence in major league baseball examines the number lof the benchclearing slug fests, including manager's fights, fan confrontations, clubhouse feuds, beanball wars, and other brawls over the past three decades. Original.
298 pages, Paperback
First published March 4, 2008
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
April 13, 2008
I'm one chapter in and I already want to take Vrusho's thesaurus away and hit him with it. But I forge on!
I managed 47 pages before I skipped to the index to read up on anyone whose name I recognized, and I was aggravated to discover a cheap shot at Jason Varitek (one of the nicest and hardest working guys in baseball, thank you very much), which mostly boiled down to "they call him 'Tek', what a dumb nickname" - because no baseball player has ever been given a dumb nickname before. Honestly.
I was forced to start a list of words/references that I never expected to see in a book about baseball fights:
erstaz
homunculus
vociferously
elephantine
privy
rhubarb
H. P. Lovecraft
prelibation
clarion call
cubicle-speak
Three Musketeers
danse macabre
exeunt
And that was just a selection. From pages 18-31.
I'm a firm believer in smart sports writing (all hail Roger Angell), but there's a difference between an actual, functional vocabulary, and "guys, I read! and I know how to right-click to find synonyms! serious author, here, honest!"
But, perhaps most disturbing, is the overall impression that Spike Vrusho doesn't particularly like most of the people he's writing about. The introduction was especially perplexing, as it broke down to "god, I hate Moneyball and computers, and have you seen the current crop of sportswriters? Maybe the players should beat them up."
So much anger, Vrusho!
I will give points for the best part of the book - the pictures! +10 for including the painfully described AP photo of Nolan Ryan beating up some rookie punk, and +5 each for showing Kyle Farnsworth and A. J. Pierzynski taking it in the face. Minus 10 each for not including any of the legendary Pete Rose or the oft-referenced (and remember, I only read 47 pages) "Mad Dog" Madlock. +5 for resisting the urge to include Pedro Martinez shoving Don Zimmer.
-10,000 or so for some of the lousiest writing I've ever sat through. Who knew purple prose and baseball brawls were a match made in literary hell?
I know I've said it before, but this time I mean it - I've spent more time writing this review than I bothered to spend reading the book. Ugh.
I managed 47 pages before I skipped to the index to read up on anyone whose name I recognized, and I was aggravated to discover a cheap shot at Jason Varitek (one of the nicest and hardest working guys in baseball, thank you very much), which mostly boiled down to "they call him 'Tek', what a dumb nickname" - because no baseball player has ever been given a dumb nickname before. Honestly.
I was forced to start a list of words/references that I never expected to see in a book about baseball fights:
erstaz
homunculus
vociferously
elephantine
privy
rhubarb
H. P. Lovecraft
prelibation
clarion call
cubicle-speak
Three Musketeers
danse macabre
exeunt
And that was just a selection. From pages 18-31.
I'm a firm believer in smart sports writing (all hail Roger Angell), but there's a difference between an actual, functional vocabulary, and "guys, I read! and I know how to right-click to find synonyms! serious author, here, honest!"
But, perhaps most disturbing, is the overall impression that Spike Vrusho doesn't particularly like most of the people he's writing about. The introduction was especially perplexing, as it broke down to "god, I hate Moneyball and computers, and have you seen the current crop of sportswriters? Maybe the players should beat them up."
So much anger, Vrusho!
I will give points for the best part of the book - the pictures! +10 for including the painfully described AP photo of Nolan Ryan beating up some rookie punk, and +5 each for showing Kyle Farnsworth and A. J. Pierzynski taking it in the face. Minus 10 each for not including any of the legendary Pete Rose or the oft-referenced (and remember, I only read 47 pages) "Mad Dog" Madlock. +5 for resisting the urge to include Pedro Martinez shoving Don Zimmer.
-10,000 or so for some of the lousiest writing I've ever sat through. Who knew purple prose and baseball brawls were a match made in literary hell?
I know I've said it before, but this time I mean it - I've spent more time writing this review than I bothered to spend reading the book. Ugh.
September 19, 2017
Growing up, my dad had season tickets to the Knicks. This was when they were champions and had players more akin to cartoon characters, with names like Clyde and Earl the Pearl. They owned Madison Square Garden. I was at a classic early 1970s game, where the Knicks came back from 30-odd point loss in the fourth quarter to win. It was one of the few times I looked up from the program, where I filled the margins with my doodles.
Milk Duds and boredom are my sports memories. But my friend Spike Vrusho doesn’t share my ennui. He is a fanatic, whose first book, after years of the top-shelf fanzine Murtaugh, is called BENCHCLEARING: BASEBALL’S GREATEST FIGHTS AND RIOTS. Spike is a great writer, who makes even sports worthwhile, and the fighting doesn’t hurt.
My dad also had season tickets to the Mets. At the time, they were the Washington Generals to the Knicks’ Harlem Globetrotters (see, I can make a sports analogy). The games were interminable. They were also in the outer boroughs, not my beloved Manhattan, but sold Milk Duds and my program was thick with marginalia.
One day in 1973, the Mets played the Reds. We had good seats. I was sandwiched between my father and my grandfather, who watched the game with one ear plugged to his transistor radio. After innings of tedium, the whole stadium erupted, everyone screaming and on their feet. It was highly unusual behavior for a fanbase that mostly stewed in their own fat, occasionally opening their hot-dog-and-beer stuffed mouths to yell something about bums.
Thank God for my grandfather’s radio. He was able to provide the color commentary explaining what was being barred from my immature eyes by the bloated bodies in extremis. The Mets’ reedy shortstop, Bud Harrelson, was getting a beatdown from the bull-like Reds’ Pete Rose. Sports could be interesting, I decided at that moment, before going back to my drawings and never again returning to the field of dreams.
That is until now, transported by the galloping gourmet of wordplay, Spike Vrusho, who manages to bring everything from Greek mythology to the Ramones in the mix as he sets the time and place of each battle he details. The baseball names and acts are like science fiction to me, unbelievable and finally blurred together into a muddy wash. But his section on the Harrelson-Rose combat was tethered to my reality, and rang true and beautiful like some kind of true and beautiful play in baseball I’m too ignorant to cite and finish this analogy (see, I really don’t know sports).
Postscript: I met Bud Harrelson a few years after his encounter with Pete Rose at the opening of some store in Westchester County, NY. I’ve a Polaroid of the two of us, me with my 1970s Pete Rose hairdo and Harrelson with a crooked smile. I didn’t pretend to swing at him, because I didn’t want to see my hero flinch.
Milk Duds and boredom are my sports memories. But my friend Spike Vrusho doesn’t share my ennui. He is a fanatic, whose first book, after years of the top-shelf fanzine Murtaugh, is called BENCHCLEARING: BASEBALL’S GREATEST FIGHTS AND RIOTS. Spike is a great writer, who makes even sports worthwhile, and the fighting doesn’t hurt.
My dad also had season tickets to the Mets. At the time, they were the Washington Generals to the Knicks’ Harlem Globetrotters (see, I can make a sports analogy). The games were interminable. They were also in the outer boroughs, not my beloved Manhattan, but sold Milk Duds and my program was thick with marginalia.
One day in 1973, the Mets played the Reds. We had good seats. I was sandwiched between my father and my grandfather, who watched the game with one ear plugged to his transistor radio. After innings of tedium, the whole stadium erupted, everyone screaming and on their feet. It was highly unusual behavior for a fanbase that mostly stewed in their own fat, occasionally opening their hot-dog-and-beer stuffed mouths to yell something about bums.
Thank God for my grandfather’s radio. He was able to provide the color commentary explaining what was being barred from my immature eyes by the bloated bodies in extremis. The Mets’ reedy shortstop, Bud Harrelson, was getting a beatdown from the bull-like Reds’ Pete Rose. Sports could be interesting, I decided at that moment, before going back to my drawings and never again returning to the field of dreams.
That is until now, transported by the galloping gourmet of wordplay, Spike Vrusho, who manages to bring everything from Greek mythology to the Ramones in the mix as he sets the time and place of each battle he details. The baseball names and acts are like science fiction to me, unbelievable and finally blurred together into a muddy wash. But his section on the Harrelson-Rose combat was tethered to my reality, and rang true and beautiful like some kind of true and beautiful play in baseball I’m too ignorant to cite and finish this analogy (see, I really don’t know sports).
Postscript: I met Bud Harrelson a few years after his encounter with Pete Rose at the opening of some store in Westchester County, NY. I’ve a Polaroid of the two of us, me with my 1970s Pete Rose hairdo and Harrelson with a crooked smile. I didn’t pretend to swing at him, because I didn’t want to see my hero flinch.
June 18, 2009
Baseball brawls (or, as some refer to them, basebrawls) are seldom very violent, often look foolish, but also engender lots of debate and discussion. This volume focuses on, as the subtitle refers to it, "Baseball's Greatest Fights and Riots."
The heart of the book is the description of some famous brawls (and brawlers) over time. Think things get spicy now? Pages 6-8 outline Ty Cobb's greatest hits--or brawls. Cobb was a nasty customer, and these vignettes give a sense of his persona.
And then there was the conflict between pitcher Juan Marichal and catcher John Roseboro in 1965. The Giants and Dodgers had a heated rivalry--going back to their days in New York. Here, things got out of control and Marichal, at bat, began using his bat on Roseboro, the catcher. Ugly incident. . . .
After page 186, there are several photos of some of the battles that have taken place in baseball. They give a flavor of what the action can look like.
Chapter 19--a whole chapter on Billy Martin! Amazing reading of the spirit of a person out of control at times.
So, what of this volume? Hardly a deep, philosophical piece. But if you want a sense of the hard edged side of baseball leading up to brawls, this is a useful introduction.
The heart of the book is the description of some famous brawls (and brawlers) over time. Think things get spicy now? Pages 6-8 outline Ty Cobb's greatest hits--or brawls. Cobb was a nasty customer, and these vignettes give a sense of his persona.
And then there was the conflict between pitcher Juan Marichal and catcher John Roseboro in 1965. The Giants and Dodgers had a heated rivalry--going back to their days in New York. Here, things got out of control and Marichal, at bat, began using his bat on Roseboro, the catcher. Ugly incident. . . .
After page 186, there are several photos of some of the battles that have taken place in baseball. They give a flavor of what the action can look like.
Chapter 19--a whole chapter on Billy Martin! Amazing reading of the spirit of a person out of control at times.
So, what of this volume? Hardly a deep, philosophical piece. But if you want a sense of the hard edged side of baseball leading up to brawls, this is a useful introduction.
July 15, 2008
Some of this was pretty funny. A large collection of nororious brawls, fistfights, players vs. fan confrontations...that sort of thing. Lots of famous fights--Ryan vs. Ventura, Rose vs. Harrelson, Rosebro vs. Marachel--and famous brawlers like Mad Dog Bill Madlock, Ty Cobb, Billy Marting. The '70s sure seemed like the heyday for some crazy baseball fights based on the amount included in this book.
Not many fights these days as baseball has legislated against pitching inside for the most part--to me, that's a shame, as throwing inside or "dusting" off the plate is a part of baseball strategy that dates back to the 1890s. A pitcher must own that plate! The players and umpires today are supersensitive and slant things toward the hitters--protective padding for hitters, tiny strike zones, warnings for pitchers who throw inside. I'm prefer the old school baseball but that's just me.
Not many fights these days as baseball has legislated against pitching inside for the most part--to me, that's a shame, as throwing inside or "dusting" off the plate is a part of baseball strategy that dates back to the 1890s. A pitcher must own that plate! The players and umpires today are supersensitive and slant things toward the hitters--protective padding for hitters, tiny strike zones, warnings for pitchers who throw inside. I'm prefer the old school baseball but that's just me.
June 3, 2008
I think Chelsea should actually read this whole book and not be hung up on Varitek...what, not one name was recognized for 47 pages? Were you born yesterday?
December 1, 2008
One of the best baseball histories ever! Thoroughly researched and comprehensive. Absolutly hysterical and a great Summer read.
July 8, 2022
POINTS FOR CREATIVITY BUT AT SOME POINT IT WAS JUST WORDS WASHING OVER MY EYEBALLS
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews