High School English — Baseball Bench Coach

Last Sunday afternoon was glorious. I literally had nothing to do. My Labrador Retriever and I decided to take a long walk in our neighborhood park. Along the path we ran into a gentleman who reminded me so much of my high school English teacher, my favorite teacher of all time. You know the one; everyone has one. He taught me to love literature, and more importantly, how to write (at least as a reader I hope you think that’s true). We remain in touch today, and often he suggests topics for this blog.

My pup and I arrived home, and we both landed on the family room couch exhausted from our outing. I turned on the television and then remembered. The Cubs weren’t playing, their first Sunday off since 1932. I decided to read a book while following a couple games on the MLB app in the background. After a bit, I ventured upstairs to a bookshelf full of selections kept over time. I know this will surprise you, but a big part of my collection involves baseball. Then it hit me why I had been thinking about my former teacher. Maybe I should write a column about baseball books. Let’s give it a shot.

In second or third grade I began to read “big print” books from the school library. Mostly they were biographies of famous people – Washington, Lincoln, Edison, etc. The one I remember really enjoying was that of Babe Ruth. To this day I love reading tales of the Babe hitting home runs, entertaining fans, and even munching hot dogs during games. In fifth or sixth grade I was introduced to a baseball book of more consequence, Bob Gibson’s “From Ghetto to Glory”. At the time of my reading, I’m not sure that I had even met a black in person or even knew what a ghetto was. I was entranced by his story. Most notably, there was a passage on how to throw a curveball. I happened to fall in love with that pitch, my “out pitch”, and a couple shoulder surgeries later I still would have thrown a curveball as a kid.

Junior High was a time of exploration. I was like most thirteen year-old boys, trying to get the courage to talk to girls and playing sports. I heard about a controversial book, “Ball Four”, written by a pitcher named Jim Bouton. I don’t recall exactly how I obtained my copy, but I remember sitting in my bedroom devouring every word. The book was at the time a scandalous behind the scenes look at major league baseball. I loved it, until my Dad found out that I was reading it! He took it to his workplace until I was “ready for it”. I guess I never was, because I never saw it again. I bought another copy years later, the “20th anniversary edition” (on my shelf today).

Another surprise – there are lots of Pete Rose books on my shelf. “The Pete Rose Story”, “My Prison Without Bars”, “Charlie Hustle”, “Play Hungry”, the list goes on. I bought every one of them. Pete is my baseball hero, a hometown boy raised on the west side of Cincinnati, just like me. Other than our mutual love of baseball, the personal comparison ends there. With every book I read I kept hoping that he would apologize to baseball, to Cincinnati, and maybe even to me. He never did. He never has. He never will. But like most Reds fans, somehow I forgive him. His jersey #14 is on another one of my shelves at home.

There are many impactful baseball books on my shelf as well. If you haven’t read David Halberstam’s “The Teammates”, I highly recommend that you pick up a copy. It’s a quick read, and an endearing tale of four Red Sox players in the 1940s, Ted Williams, Bobby Doerr, Dom DiMaggio, and Johnny Pesky. Baseball gave them a bond that lasted through their lifetimes together. The former teammates remained friends for over 60 years. You can’t help but cry as Halberstam shares the story of Doerr, DiMaggio, and Pesky saying goodbye to Ted Williams before his death. Baseball means lifetime friends; I can attest to that.

I found a couple other baseball heroes on my bookshelf. “Hank Greenberg: The Hero of Heroes”, written by John Rosengren, is a true classic. Greenberg was one of the great hitters the game has seen, a slugging first baseman for the Tigers during the 1930s and 1940s. He was also the country’s most prominent Jew at the time, living in a world of hate. When the nation entered World War II, Greenberg became the first major leaguer to join the armed forces. It cost him 4 years of his baseball career, but he didn’t seem to mind. The book is full of stories of how the Jewish community of Detroit welcomed him. And in 1947, when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier, Hank was the first MLB player to welcome Jackie to the big leagues.

If you live in my household, you recognize Roberto Clemente as a baseball hero as well, and rightfully so. Of the numerous books written about Clemente’s life, the best by far is David Maranis’ “Clemente: The Passion and Grace of Baseball’s Last Hero”. Maranis walks you through the early days of Clemente’s life in Puerto Rico, his incredible on field success as a Pirate, his devotion to the Pittsburgh community, and his dedication to his fellow Puerto Ricans. A true humanitarian, Clemente lost his life in a plane crash on New Year’s Eve in 1972 while attempting to deliver food and medical supplies to Nicaragua after an earthquake.

This summer I’ve enjoyed watching my older grandson develop into a baseball player. I’m sure that he has a lot of baseball heroes right now – MLB players on the face of his baseball cards; his managers and coaches; a special umpire that took the time to instruct, not just call, a recent game; a couple helpful instructors; older brothers of teammates; and maybe even me sometimes. There will be so many stories of baseball heroes in his life. And I also hope that he has a high school English teacher like mine.

Until next Monday,

your Baseball Bench Coach