Unlike many of my contemporaries, I did not grow up reading Bill James. I wasn’t familiar with James’ Baseball Abstracts until my cousin gave me his collection in 2002, but in many ways, Bill James is the Internet–the outsider, the guy writing in his basement, intellectually curious, irreverent, superior, caustic and funny. The guy who doesn’t have to actually face the athletes, who really doesn’t have any interest in talking to them.
There have been other writers who played a big part in influencing the current generation of baseball writers–from Tom Boswell and Peter Gammons to James’ protogee Rob Neyer and Bill Simmons.
But for me, the early role model was Roger Angell because he was a writer and a fan. Here is Angell discussing his first baseball assignment for the New Yorker in the spring of 1962 (from a wonderful interview conducted by Jared Haynes “They Look Easy, But They’re Hard,” originally published in Writing on the Edge in 1993):
I was in my forties–I was forty-one–and I knew enough to know that I didn’t know a great deal about baseball, even though I was a true-blue fan. I’d followed baseball all my life. But I was wary of talking to players; I felt nervous about that.
…And also, although it was not a conscious plan, I wrote about myself, because I was a fan. It set a pattern for me. I am a fan, I refer to myself as a fan, and I report about my feelings as a fan, and nobody else, to my knowledge, does that. It’s not great thing, but those old restrictions on reporting seemed to say that you can’t put yourself in the piece and you can’t betray emotion. It’s funny, because most of the beat writers are just as much fans as the rest of us, or more so. If you sat up there and didn’t care about baseball in some personal way, it would be a deadly assingment, I think, year after year.
Angell is an editor first and a writer second. So who influenced his approach to writing about baseball?
A great model for me was Red Smith, who was a model for almost every sportswriter. The great thing about Red Smith was that he sounded like himself. His attitude about sports was always clear. He felt himself enormously lucky to be there in the pressbox. He was not in favor of glorifying the players too much–Godding up the players, in Stanley Woodward’s phrase. But was Red Smith in every line. You knew what he had read and what his influences were.
I don’t try to be a literate sportswriter; I try to be myself. It’s as simple as that. Everybody’s got to find what their voice is. You’ve got to end up sounding like yourself if you’re going to write in a way that’s going to reward you when you’re done. If you end up sounding like somebody else, you’re not going to be any good. You won’t get anywhere. Readers are smart. They will pick up whether the tone is genuine or not. Tone is the ultimate thing writers have to think about. You could write on a given subject–a ball game or a national crisis or a family crisis–in twenty or thirty different ways. You only have to pick what you want people to make of this.
Words to live by. Angell has often said that writing and baseball may look easy but they are both extremely hard. I try to never forget this because neither gets easier with practice. I can’t get away from the reality with writing because I do it regularly, but it’s more tempting to lose track of how hard it is to play the game.
I’ll always be grateful to Angell for making this clear. And for setting a wonderful example of the writer as fan.
I have really lost myself in Angell lately - The Summer Game, Season Ticket, Late Innings, etc. I dig his intimate and detailed gazes into a season of baseball; there was an extended piece on The Quis I really loved.
The Quis one is good. I think I like the first one, The Summer Game the best. I don't enjoy his stuff as much as I once did. I used to be far more forgiving of how...dense they were, because the enthusiasm and passion was always there. But they don't speak to me as much now.
There's a little bit of the "old-time-sunflower-seed-spittin'-grizzled-scout-baseball-is-about-guts" feel to the writing, but I kind of enjoy that in small doses. Angell seems to forgive a lot of the player's faults in his writing, too. There was a bit on Keith Hernandez and cocaine, and it seemed like he didn't even care. Perhaps I just enjoy the format more than anything else.
Well.... TorreGate seems to have fizzled to a cold ember and we are again bereft of Yankee news. What we need is a good office pool.
... Will Brett Cabrera be our CFer? Or is Cashman waiting to strike?
... With his incentives in place, I expect Fire and Brimstone (on the field) from Mr. Pettitte.
... We have spent HUGE dollars on CC and Tex. Have we bought the past, or their future?
... I'm sure PO can catch and reach the pitcher... but can he get the ball to 2nd base? Just how low does his CS% go before we need to find another C?
... Will ARod autograph his 56th HR and give it to Torre?
... Will our new sleeked down, muscled up Cano kick some serious ass in 2009?
... Will Jack have another day in 2010?
And has Torre ruined his future as a Yankee icon? Will this blow over and will he get his day... or is Joe 'Dead to us'?
I don't know if this has been seen or discussed, but it is an excerp from the book. I hate to admit it, but I found it very moving, and very much how I interpretted the situation last year.
Alex, very sneaky labelling this "Grandmaster" after the great hip-hop debate earlier..
 I think Joe blew it with this book..that stuff about Damon shocks me more than the tired A-rod stuff..always thought the team loved him...
Pavano..i had never heard the story about his mom..what a complete and total Richard Nixon that guy is...