The Politics of Glory

Phil Rizzuto, who was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on February 27, 1994, by the Veterans' Committee, died today at the age of 89. Rizzuto was the oldest living HoFer, and his candidacy to the Hall was advanced (according to rumor) by Ted Williams, who declared that "the Red Sox would have won all those pennants if [Rizzuto] had played in front of me[i.e., left fielder Williams]"

By coincidence, over the past few days I have re-read Bill James' "The Politics of Glory: How Baseball's Hall of Fame Really Works" (which was apparently re-published in 1995 as "Whatever Happened to the Hall of Fame?: Baseball, Cooperstown, and the Politics of Glory"); both titles are a mouthful, but improve on James' 1989 work, "This Time Let's Not Eat the Bones."

James' work was clearly inspired by the controversy in the early 1990s about whether Rizzuto should, in fact, be a Hall-of-Famer. Rizzuto's candidacy was clearly aided by the election (also by the Veterans' Committee, of Bobby Doerr (James gives Ted Williams some credit towards getting his teammate Doerr into the HoF on page 142), and, more importantly, Pee Wee Reese. (To be fair, Rizzuto lost the better part of three years to WWII, which would have helped his career numbers be closer to the HoF 'median' for shortstops.)

James' book intersperses a history of the institution -- and its status apart from MLB -- with the voting constituencies, and more important, an analysis of the HoFers who clearly are at the margin -- Rizzuto (who was on the outs at the time James initially wrote; Don Drysdale; Bill Mazeroski (out at the time; subsequently elected); Ron Santo (still on the outside, looking in); Joe Torre (out then and now, although probably in now thanks to his managerial career; much closer to being in as a player than currently appreciated); George Davis (now in); Jim Kaat (out -- then and now); and Minnie Minoso (not considered a 'true' Negro Leaguer, but lost a significant amount of his career thanks to the color line).

Like all of James' writing, the book is witty and thought-provoking; however, in a re-reading some 14 years after publication, what is truly amazing is the changes in the how we view the game -- James still refers to 'Triple Crown' statistics even though they have been replaced (subsequently, and as a result, in part, of James' work) with stats such as OBP, OPS, and the like.

There will be more on the Hall of Fame here shortly, but the original is a good read, albeit dated (written before Michael Lewis' Moneyball, and shortly after Ken Burns' Baseball; the paperback undoubtedly resolves some of the typos and other editing errors that distract from a compelling narrative.

The Soul of Baseball

It is a rare book that gets a second read in today's day-and-age. After all, there are so many books, magazines, on-line articles, blogs, and other pieces that have not yet been read. Yet, Joe Posnanski's Soul of Baseball: A Road Trip Through Buck O'Neil's America received that high praise - and right away. Shortly after finishing the book for the first time, I started over, and enjoyed it just as much.

What makes this book great is not the 'discovery' of Buck O'Neil - Ken Burns (and others) had already done so:


Posnanski has the fortune of traveling with O'Neil during the final year of his life. Despite his age (93), O'Neil continues to be a indefatigable speaker and supporter of the Negro League and its players. His travels take him to Houston, Minneapolis, and Nicodemus, KS. He remains upbeat and positive despite the bad breaks that baseball -- and its owners -- gave him. Despite never having the chance to play or manage in the Major Leagues, O'Neil's attitude is perhaps most reminiscent of Lou Gehrig.

But the book reaches a dramatic height in the last section, as Posnanski waits with O'Neil for the Baseball Hall of Fame's special committee -- chaired by former Commissioner Fay Vincent -- to select from a list of 39 former Negro Leaguers who were considered for admission. Sometimes a great piece of writing needs tragedy in the life of his subject.

In the end, O'Neil gives the speech on behalf of those who had died before admission. And he leads the audience in the same song he had sung in countless other venues: "The greatest thing in all my life is loving you."

As a sidenote: Posnanski has a website for the book (including a 'soundtrack' on iTunes), a blog (which includes a memory-invoking list of the sweetest swings that he has ever seen), and he writes regularly for the Kansas City Star. All are recommended.