I used to believe I had already gone through the greatest sports books already, but a summer read has changed my mind.
"Eight Men Out," by Eliot Asinof, is quite unlike most great sports books and movies, which tend to be inspirational. This is nothing of the sort — it’s a cynic’s delight, the kind of book that reinforces your sense that the world is screwed up, no one has pure motives and problems are not so much solved as dealt with by finding convenient scapegoats.
The book is about the betting scandal that tore up baseball in 1919. Several White Sox players received money to deliberately lose the World Series to the Cincinnati Reds. The Sox were heavily favored and lost.
But this isn’t your garden variety scandal. The players come off as innocents who were upset that they were underpaid by Albert Comiskey — they earned about half what the Reds players made though they were much better.
The players didn’t know what they were doing and ended up getting cheated — they got only a little bit of the money they were promised by gamblers/con men.
The book makes it clear that many people — reporters, the White Sox manager, team owner Albert Comiskey and others — suspected the that the Chicago loss wasn’t on the up and up. Baseball was corrupt and gambling by players had happened before. Cynicism prevailed — everyone just ignored the obvious signs that the players had thrown the game.
Baseball would’ve just ignored what happened. But the players were charged with crimes. Though acquitted, baseball made sure none of them ever played again. They were all run out of the league.
One player, Buck Weaver, was tarred with the same brush as the other players though he never took a dime and played well in the Series.
None of the gamblers ever paid for their part. Baseball found its scapegoats, the players, and moved on.
Some of those players were among baseball’s best ever, especially Shoeless Joe Jackson, who had a career batting average well into the .300s. He was guilty of being naive and, well, stupid. He was illiterate and trusted people too much.
The players were wrong to do what they did, but mostly they were stupid. They were mostly a bunch of hicks who thought they deserved better and were in over their heads. Many equally complicit people never suffered the consequences.
Here’s one of the most memorable things: Ring Lardner, the great sportswriter, became so cynical about baseball that he never wrote about it again.
As good as that book was, however, it’s still only my third-favorite baseball book. Ahead of it are David Halberstam’s "Summer of ‘49" and "October 1964," about the World Series between the Yankees and Cardinals. "Ball Four" is good, probably fourth in the baseball list, but I read it many, many years ago and my memory of it is hazy..
Halberstam was the best journalist of his generation — perhaps of any generation. Most of his books turned out to be the best on that subject. "Breaks of the Game," on Bill Walton and the 1979-80 season of the Portland Trail Blazers, was the best basketball book ever. Halberstam was researching a book on pro football when he died in a car crash — he was in the Bay Area interviewing Y.A. Tittle.
What other books are in my list? One other comes to mind — Ken Dryden’s "The Game." it’s rare for a former athlete to write such a great book unassisted, and it benefited from his independent spirit (he was both a great goaltender and a bit of a renegade who sat out a year instead of play for the Montreal Canadiens for what he considered an unfair contract).
Keywords: " "Breaks of the Game, " "October 1964, " "Summer of '49, " "The Game", " Eliot Asinof, "Ball Four, "Eight Men Out, 1919 World Series, Chicago White Sox, Cincinnati Reds, David Halberstam
