19 Oct 2009, by Eric
In Robert Graves’ fictional memoir of the bumbling Roman emperor’s assent to power, I Claudius, the title character finds himself in a library with two of his era’s most prominent historians. Just a teenager at the time, Claudius gets into an awkward situation. The two rival historians, Pollio and Livy, press young Claudius to declare which of them is superior. Who’s the best historian in Rome? Claudius answers diplomatically: He says that if you value presentation and language, Livy is the greatest. But if you value interpretation of fact, Pollio is superior.
Game Six, Mark Frost’s history of the penultimate game of 1975’s World Series between the Boston Red Sox and Cincinnati Reds, seems to find itself squarely in Livy’s camp. The book’s unique and ambitious form – taking us through the game pitch by pitch and interspersing background stories between plays – might well be the best way to write about a single sporting event. Unfortunately, the execution of this form results in a plodding book that feels longer than any extra-inning baseball game.
Frost does not outwardly disregard truth and accuracy for the sake of the story; Game Six is exceptionally detailed and well-researched. It’s just that Frost does not let sourcing or subtleties get in the way of his literary concerns. Attempts to heighten the drama, such as using italics to place readers in the minds of players, go without explanation and become clumsy disruptions. The reader is left wondering whether Frost learned what the player was thinking via interview, or whether he is merely abusing his literary license.
Indeed, the book’s undoing is not Frost’s prose, but the way he flexes his authorial presence. In addition to the use of italics, Frost finds odd and unexpected ways to insert himself and his values into the narrative. One player, mentioned in passing, is accused of living an “unexamined life.” Carl Yastrzemski, meanwhile, steps to bat with “more sheer guts and gritty work ethic than any man who ever played the game.” Guts and gritty work ethic are obviously unquantifiable, yet Frost employs such intangibles to evaluate players as casually as another writer might use On Base Percentage (which Frost does use after a clumsy page-long explanation of the statistic). The hyperbole and the repeated harping on old school baseball values make a tried and true old school baseball book out of what could have otherwise been a fresh entry into the genre.
Game Six is a difficult to review because it seems to reach in so many different directions. Foremost is the action of the game, which carries the narrative momentum forward, and even constantly broken up by various back stories, manages to maintain coherence. Frost writes in enough detail, and with enough perspective, that even taken alone, the game sequences would never be mistaken for a newspaper recap. His description of Carlton Fisk’s famous twelfth-inning home run, allotted an entire chapter, merits a special mention for its lyricism.
Then there are the various back stories. If the action of the game is the book’s engine, then these histories are its cargo. They are what make Game Six valuable, but also at times what make it unbearably weighty. These are histories of commentators and coaches, players and owners, even of the franchises, their cities, and of baseball itself dating back to the 19th century. Their goal is a raising of the stakes. Framed by all these things, the game is meant to take on greater significance. But while none of the stories seem extraneous, their vitality and immediacy are inconsistent; some lend urgency to the action on the field, others are merely anecdotal.
The most notable back story, and the one that occupies the largest part of the book, is that of Cuban born pitcher Luis Tiant, who started the game for Boston. The sections on Tiant are splendidly detailed, humorous, and soulful. It almost seemed as if half-way through the writing of Game Six, Frost realized that the project he should have embarked upon from the start was a Tiant biography. And for all the problems presented by this one, so great is the author’s affection for Tiant that I will go ahead and preemptively recommend El Tiante by Mark Frost, to be released by Hyperion in 2012, despite its likely propensity for sappiness. (Seriously, somebody needs to write a Tiant bio).
The affection Frost has for his subjects, with the exceptions of Boston manager Darrell Johnson, broadcaster Joe Garagiola, and a few bench players, is also part of the book’s downfall. Everybody is a good guy and it’s hard to create a tense story or engage readers when readers are given a reason to root for essentially every character. Even then-Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey, a notable racist, gets away with little more than an offhanded slap on the wrist. But then again, this reader is a Dodger fan, with no particular interest in either the Red Sox or the Reds. Boston fans might have very strong feelings about Johnny Bench, and Reds fans might feel the same way about Fisk.
But therein lays the Game Six’s ultimate flaw. It is exceedingly difficult to make one of the most discussed and replayed moments in baseball history seem brand new, to make old rivalries burn hot. Before picking up the book, a reader knows that Fisk’s home run will crash into the foul pole and that 24 hours after that, the entire city of Boston will be deflated by a Joe Morgan single.
It is possible to render the past, as the Roman historian Livy did, with literary verve. But for a variety of little reasons more than any overarching one, Frost is unable to lift Game Six from the ever-growing pile of generic baseball histories. It stands apart in ambition, – the form, the detail, the specificity are all admirable– but not in execution, as the story is bogged down in traditionalism, sentimentality, and bizarre choices.
15 Oct 2009, by Ted
Ted: So, Eric, what's the most compelling storyline for you going into the next round of the playoffs? The impact of Nick A.? The charisma of Andre E.? The Yankees and their undeniable goodness? It's down to four of the most competent teams in the league now. What jumps out at you?
Eric: No surprise that for me it's Dodger-centric, but not the way it should be. Tonight should be all about Clayton Kershaw's full immersion in the limelight. Unfortunately all that light, and perhaps all the sun over Chavez Ravine is clouded by the weird and sad and kind of juicy news that Dodger owners Frank and Jamie McCourt are splitting up. Could this story have broken at a worse time? Reports are that the split has already created front office fault lines and that the divorce could throw the future of the team's ownership into doubt.
How much does this actually have an impact on the players and coaches? I don't see this storyline as an obstacle per say--Joe Torre knows a thing or two about overcoming kooky ownership situations-- but it does throw a bit of rain on the Dodgers' so-far smooth postseason. You mentioned Adenhart briefly in your question. So I'd like to follow up with this: With such small margins for error, and four balanced clubs remaining, do off-the-field events have a meaningful impact between the lines?
Ted: I think there's a distinction to be made between off-the-field events and team mojo. One can certainly impact the other, as we're seeing with the Angels, and really the determinate is how such an event makes the team feel. If I can cite my own meager baseball career for a minute, there's a big difference between a team that shares a collective goal and a team full of players working basically on their own. What coalesces a team might be the random chance of personality, as we've seen with the 2005 White Sox and the 2004 Red Sox, or an external something-or-other like the Adenhart situation. You can easily punch holes in this lovey dovey assessment, but when it comes down to it, the theme of these conversations has been the craziness of the playoffs, and team chemistry has a remarkable way of making interesting, unexpected things happen.
Either way, it's a necessity, that collective vibe, so I will say yes, external events do matter, as they apply to a team coming together. For the record, no, that divorce thing will have no impact on anything but the children.
That said, another recurring theme is that individual players catch fire. Kershaw is a great example of a young gun who as they say doesn't know any better than to pitch his game. Last year's Hamels, perhaps (and we'll see tonight if that's true). The Phillies ooze confidence and well-roundedness as a team. Kershaw, the young and hungry, will face a team full of postseason experience and confidence (Lidge being the very important exception, though his confidence seems to be budding at the right time).
You know, I just thought of something, which includes the ruinous act of "looking ahead": what about a World Series between the Yanks and Joe Torre?!? How sweet would that be....Thoughts? (though I'd be a little shocked if you were willing to draw back your gaze away from this one game tonight.
Eric: I agree with everything you said right there, so I'll just go ahead ans answer your question. As scared as I am to speculate beyond Clayton Kershaw's first pitch of the first inning tonight, I do think a Yanks-Dodgers series would be sweet. I also think an Angels-Dodgers series would be sweet. From my decidedly western coast and LA-native perspective, by far the two most compelling storylines involve the Dodgers reaching the World Series. That said, the Phils defending their title against the once-again-colossal Yankees would be great, as would seven games between the Phils and the emotionally charged Angels. If you don't have a horse left in this race, I don't think you can lose. You're gonna get a great show.
Now that my gaze has been drawn back, I'm a little overwhelmed by possibilities. I try to keep a steady perspective. The Dodgers will win or they will lose. There is absolutely no way to accurately predict which of those two results will occur, and all speculation is worthless. I just need to be satisfied with the knowledge that they are capable of winning a seven game series against any team. It's hard, but that's what I need to do.
But with that out of the way, let's turn it over to the AL for a moment. Most folks I talk to seem to have handed this series to the Yankees already. It's not hard to do, especially considering the fact that as a friend recently pointed out, their 8th best hitter is Johnny Damon. But the 3-man rotation does make them seem vulnerable -- going to it seems almost like an admission of guilt when it comes to pitching depth. Plus the Angels can really freaking hit too. Kendry Morales is probably the most underrated player left in the postseason. I think they've got a hell of a shot at winning the AL, especially if they take a game in the Bronx.
Am I completely misguided?
Ted: It's not that your wrong. You've just caught the Angels spirit:
Mel Clark: I've got nothing left.
George Knox: Yeah, you do. You've got one strike left.
[turns to dugout, Roger walks out flapping his arms like angel's wings]
George Knox: You've got an angel with you right now... just got here, and he's going to help.
Mel Clark: The kid sees an angel?
George Knox: Yeah, he must. That's the signal.
[gradually all players and crowd, even those in the office, stand and flap their arms]
George Knox: [moved by seeing the crowd] It could happen.
Mel Clark, George Knox: Okay.
George Knox: [laughs] Go get 'em for the championship!
imdb
14 Oct 2009, by Eric
Just a quick programming note. I have an essay up on Wandy Rodriguez over at Walkoff Walk as part of their "This Guy Is Playing Golf Right Now" series.
And fear not Astros fans, this was given the Ted Walker seal of approval:
This Guy Is Playing Golf Right Now: Wandy Rodriguez
13 Oct 2009, by Eric
[caption id="attachment_1075" align="alignright" width="348" caption="Brendan Ryan and The Rogue"]
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Editor's Note: We will be accepting answers through Tuesday October 20th. That's a one-week window from publication for those of you who wish to be included in the best-of post. (But really, the act of answering is a reward in itself.)
It's that time of year again. Postseason baseball, and little kids dressed up like Spiderman. In honor of the season, we bring you our second ever Pitchers & Poets Quiz. This time with the duel themes of Halloween and The Playoffs. Our previous quiz was hugely popular (by our meager-as-fun-size Snickers bars standards), and we hope that you enjoy this one too. Answer the questions you care to answer in the form of your choice: essays, sonnets, rambles, and insults are all welcome. Just be sure to place them squarely in the comment section:
1. The 2009 Playoff Yankees: same old overpriced trick, or sparkling new, glorybound treat?
2. The postseason always seems to be prone to fluke performances and freak accidents. Closers blow saves. Left fielders drop routine line drives. Journeymen pitch like ancient heroes. Is this just statistical randomness at play, or do supernatural, paranormal forces bewitch the arms of hurlers and jinx the mitts of Gold Glovers?
3. Scariest Halloween nickname: Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrabosky, Vlad "the Impaler" Guerrero, or Jack "the Ripper" Clark?
4. If you could put your own postseason curse on a team, which team would it be? What would the backstory be? Get creative.
5. Which overused historical postseason baseball highlight have you seen so often that you want to dump a bucket of blood a la Carrie on its head? Which underused moment in history should be prom king?
6. More effective Cardinals postseason disguise: Brendan Ryan as The Rogue or Albert Pujols as a banjo hitter?
7. Hypothetical situation: a new rule requires admitted and convicted PED users to wear a scarlet letter of shame on their uniform during the playoffs. Do you support or oppose this rule? Why or why not?
7b. If not, what behavior would merit the scarlet letter treatment?
8. Name the horror movie villain who best corresponds to the postseason's remaining closers: Mariano Rivera, Jonathon Broxton, Brad Lidge, and Brian Fuentes.
Answer away! Like last time, we'll compile our favorite responses in a massive best-of post.
09 Oct 2009, by Ted
Postseason play is heating up big-time. In the baseball season's transition from endings to beginnings, a number of people around the game have looked back a ways in this past week:
- Artist Thom Ross is on a mission of unforgetting. In this case, he's toting his mural of the famous Willie Mays catch to the scene of its enactment: he and friends placed the installation on the exact spot that the catch was made. SI.com
- Recently undiscovered home video footage of Babe Ruth at the bat confirms that he took his sweet time about it. New York Times
- Fangraph's Dave Cameron ensures surly Cards fans that Thursday's loss wasn't all Matt Holliday's fault. Fangraphs
- Paul DePodesta reminds us of the trials and the tears of a career in baseball's front office. It Might Be Dangerous
- Stuart Shea offers a poem to the soon-to-move-on. Bardball
