{"id":12694,"date":"2011-03-13T18:22:24","date_gmt":"2011-03-14T01:22:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.seamheads.com\/?p=12694"},"modified":"2011-03-13T18:22:24","modified_gmt":"2011-03-14T01:22:24","slug":"six-decades-of-baseball","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/2011\/03\/13\/six-decades-of-baseball\/","title":{"rendered":"Six Decades of Baseball"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>\"IMG_4017\"<\/a><\/p>\n

__________<\/p>\n

Six decades is a long time.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a lot of baseball memories.<\/p>\n

Bill Lewers issues an important caveat at the beginning of his 378-page narrative:\u00c2\u00a0 he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an ordinary fan. \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 For much of his life, he has watched baseball from the upper deck where he often sits alone (or so it seems), collecting memories that were recently recorded in a formal way, intended primarily as a gift to his two sons.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 His memoir is a scrapbook of personal treasures, snapshots, and vignettes that Lewers hopes will resonate with a larger audience of baseball fans.<\/p>\n

The author\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s persona is both the strength and weakness of his story.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 In a sense, he is Everyman.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 The voice of the common man or woman deserves to be heard, especially when it comes to baseball; but in this frenetically changing era of ebooks and blogs and tweets, the question becomes who will spend time listening<\/em> to an ordinary person\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s baseball reminiscenses?\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Unless, of course, they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re presented in a truly special way.<\/p>\n

Six Decades of Baseball:\u00c2\u00a0 A Personal Narrative<\/em> is one man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s labor of love. \u00c2\u00a0Personal photographs accompany a long sequence of methodically organized memories.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Many of these snapshots seem to have faded over time, yet in the fading they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve acquired a certain richness, an almost mystical sense, as if these significant moments are literally vanishing even as we study them, their soft blacks and whites fading to fainter hues of photocopied gray and ultimately perhaps to nothingness, were it not for one man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s earnest and diligent efforts to preserve the images he holds dear.<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Snapshot,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d in fact, is the key word. \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0The brief chapters in Lewers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s memoir run just two to three pages in length, offering quick flashes of the game\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s truths as one fan considers them:\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Images.\u00c2\u00a0 That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what this book is about.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Images.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Not the images that are produced with a camera . . . but rather those images that are recorded in our minds.\u00c2\u00a0 We do not consciously strive to memorize them.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 And so a narrative begins.<\/p>\n

Endearing as baseball imagery is to my own heart, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not certain that a book can be about<\/em> images, or that brief, picture-like summaries best serve this author\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s purpose. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s artistically challenging to build a compelling narrative from a collection of self-contained vignettes.\u00c2\u00a0 Chronology and subject alone are seldom enough to hold a reader’s interest.<\/p>\n

Lewers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s memoir begins poignantly and offers great promise.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 He invites us to share with him the happy sensation that many young boys and girls experience upon tasting baseball for the first time, quickly followed by a yearning for more.\u00c2\u00a0 Many good baseball stories begin with\u00c2\u00a0 the obvious but important questions implicitly voiced:\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Why this particular team?\u00c2\u00a0 When and how did everything begin? \u00c2\u00a0 Why baseball?<\/p>\n

Like countless other fans, Lewers loved studying line and box scores as a child.\u00c2\u00a0 He enjoyed many a game after the fact, line by line, often not knowing the outcome of the previous night’s match-up (except on those mornings when his mother spoke hastily about a specific loss or victory, thus spoiling the pleasure and verisimilitude of her son’s experience). \u00c2\u00a0\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I would find the box score of the Red Sox game.\u00c2\u00a0 Then without looking at the final score, I would quickly cover the line score with my finger.\u00c2\u00a0 Then by gradually moving my finger from left to right, I would follow the progress of the game in an inning-by-inning manner.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 The young boy experienced the game\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s suspense and wonder imaginatively while contemplating a couple inches of newsprint.<\/p>\n

The beginnings of a fan\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s affections for a particular team or player, though explicable, aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t always logical or rational.\u00c2\u00a0 Proper nouns captured W. P. Kinsella’s imagination, for example:\u00c2\u00a0 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153The first position player I admired was Grady Hatton, an average third baseman with a .254 lifetime average over a twelve-year major-league career.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I became a fan because I loved his name.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 He also favored Harry “The Cat” Brecheen, mainly because of\u00c2\u00a0 1)\u00c2\u00a0 his name and 2)\u00c2\u00a0 Kinsella\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s own fondness for cats.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 And why didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t he root for the Yankees? \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0Simple.\u00c2\u00a0 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Their uniforms weren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t colorful.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

In his preface to Sean Manning\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Top of the Order<\/em><\/a>, Kinsella remembers that many years ago, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153when my twenty-something daughter traveled with me to a lot of games, she chose her favorite by how well his buns filled out his uniform pants.\u00c2\u00a0 A totally acceptable way of choosing a favorite player, and I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t doubt that there are many fans of both sexes who still do the same.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

For me, it was Edward Emil Kranepool and the magic of November 8th.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Ed and I share the same birthday.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 That was all it took.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Upon discovering that amazing coincidence, I\u00c2\u00a0 had a feeling that I would love baseball for the rest of my life.<\/p>\n

As a young boy growing up on Long Island during the 1950s, Bill Lewers might have had every reason to root for the talented players in Dodger blue, the Yankees in pinstripes, Willie Mays and the Giants, or eventually the underdog one-syllable Mets.\u00c2\u00a0 Whom did he choose, and why?<\/p>\n

\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Actually, in the farthest recesses of my mind, I seem to recall initially being taken by the Phillies just because I liked the sound of their name.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n

Lewers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s father displayed a lukewarm interest in most ball clubs after his beloved Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn, while his mom\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cheerful but annoying opinion – \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh, I like all the teams!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 – left the boy without much in the way of guidance or familial obligation, thereby granting him permission to go his own way and make his own choice.<\/p>\n

His preferred team became the Boston Red Sox, because they happened to be \u00e2\u20ac\u0153the one good team\u00e2\u20ac\u009d that was not<\/em> the Yankees and because they were \u00e2\u20ac\u0153best on paper.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 Thus began a lifelong attachment to Boston, a loyalty that would be challenged, obfuscated, and compromised throughout the years by geography, logistics, and the usual acts of circumstance and fate.<\/p>\n

Lewers offers 138 vignettes in all, summoning up many fond baseball memories from his lifetime while hoping to resurrect others that had faded from consciousness.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a repetitive sameness in the telling, however, because his narrative abounds with sentences that begin alike: \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I remember \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 I remember \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 I also remember \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 I remember \u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 I mostly remember.”<\/p>\n

When memory fails him, the author’s methodology is equally curious: \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I cannot remember … I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m not sure … I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t remember.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 What concerns the reader is not so much the echoing prose of forgotten memories, but the dismissive treatment of\u00c2\u00a0 individuals whom we yearn to see through the eyes of an ordinary fan:\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I cannot say I recall anything concerning Tom Seaver.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Such admissions are probably best left unsaid.<\/p>\n

Perhaps Lewers writes in deference to those who have already paid eloquent tribute to baseball’s Hall of Famers, but his understated approach is baffling at times.\u00c2\u00a0 A lukewarm tribute to a Red Sox hero is particularly stunning: \u00c2\u00a0 “Much has been written about his last at bat home run at Fenway Park.\u00c2\u00a0 While it was certainly a nice way to go out, I do not think I paid it that much mind.”\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 So much for Ted Williams.<\/p>\n

Thoughts of John Updike momentarily distracted me from the book at hand, as I contemplated the literary possibilities open to those who honor the game in words.\u00c2\u00a0 One can pen a lengthy personal narrative densely packed with baseball names and an impressive chronology of information; alternatively, it’s possible to celebrate one splendid afternoon of baseball in a lyrical adieu<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Bill Lewers characterizes himself as a lifelong Red Sox fan, but his narrative considers an eclectic assortment of teams and players.\u00c2\u00a0 Carl Erskine\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s 1956 no-hitter comes alive once again in the careful markings on a young boy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s scorecard.\u00c2\u00a0 Opening Day at Fenway Park in 1966 is re-lived as\u00c2\u00a0 a surprisingly accessible and affordable event.\u00c2\u00a0 Game 2 of the 1969 World Series\u00c2\u00a0 takes on a melancholy tone, because it coincides with the untimely passing of the author’s father.\u00c2\u00a0 Covering a broad sweep of personal and baseball history, Lewers democratically recognizes many unsung heroes and ventures some refreshingly candid opinions.\u00c2\u00a0 He gives a favorable review of Grady Little\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s managerial style, for example, while\u00c2\u00a0 criticizing today’s broadcasters more harshly, faulting them for having too many conversations with each other rather than speaking directly to fans.<\/p>\n

At key points in the memoir, one wishes for more passion and intensity.\u00c2\u00a0 There’s often a ho-hum quality in the author’s tone – “It was a fun day” – as he shares his happy memories.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 There’s not much in the way of humor, emotion – “This kind of excited the imagination” – fun and mischief among friends, or conversation between father and sons.\u00c2\u00a0 The basics of logistics and geography drive the narrative forward.<\/p>\n

Lewers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s accumulated memories are nonetheless impressive for their documentary-like authenticity and sincerity.\u00c2\u00a0 It’s probably no accident that a baseball fan raised in the ’50s and ’60s would voice his observations in a that’s-the-way-it-was style reminiscent of Walter Cronkite<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Bill Lewers has built a book out of images that continue to hold value for himself and for others.\u00c2\u00a0 There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a keen desire in every baseball fan to share anecdotes and memories.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I was there.\u00c2\u00a0 I was at that game.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Johnny Damon talked to us.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Luis Tiant walked right past us.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I saw Derek Lowe\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s no-hitter.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 I got his autograph.<\/em><\/p>\n

When we say \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I was there\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 or \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I saw that game,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s our way of saying we’re important, isn’t it? We make our mark just by being at the ballpark during a memorable event.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 What we see in baseball gives our life meaning and value.<\/p>\n

The game derives its essence from what\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s remembered and preserved.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 It has to be spoken or written down, whether in personal ways for our own children or in stories artfully crafted for a broader readership.\u00c2\u00a0 To forget moments in baseball is to let go of what once made us feel alive; to forget is to relinquish our youth and give in to mortality.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Many therefore labor in words simply to remember.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 Some of us reach an age at which we truly fear\u00c2\u00a0 that our best experiences will vanish, and so will we, if we do not write them down.<\/p>\n

The cover of Lewers\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s book is one of its loveliest features.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 It will likely appeal to any Red Sox fan who feels a deep and abiding love for a scoreboard, and it will engage the attention of anyone who has known the joys of sharing America’s game with children.<\/p>\n

In the book’s most important image, a boy’s hand appears to touch the Fenway wall as if to make a spectacular catch; he’s simultaneously stretching toward the title of his father\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s book, reaching for the word \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Personal.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Six Decades of Baseball<\/em> is indeed a personal account.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 A growing boy points to what matters.<\/p>\n

Bill Lewers, Six Decades of Baseball:\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 A Personal Narrative. <\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Xlibris Corporation, 2009.<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

__________ Six decades is a long time.\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a lot of baseball memories. Bill Lewers issues an important caveat at the beginning of his 378-page narrative:\u00c2\u00a0 he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an ordinary fan. \u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 For much of his life, he has watched baseball from the upper deck where he often sits alone (or so it seems), collecting memories […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":765,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9],"tags":[13513,13515,1568,8627,630,4388,10331,13514],"class_list":["post-12694","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general","tag-bill-lewers","tag-ed-kranepool","tag-fenway-park","tag-john-updike","tag-ted-williams","tag-tom-seaver","tag-w-p-kinsella","tag-walter-cronkite"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12694","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/765"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12694"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12694\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12694"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12694"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/seamheads.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12694"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}