Brooks on Books: Baseball doubleheader again

I enjoyed two recent baseball books featuring excellent concepts: "The Baseball Codes" by Jason Turbow with Michael Duca is an excellent look at the myriad unwritten rules in the sport, and I recommend it with reservation. Kostya Kennedy's "56: Joe DiMaggio and the Last Magic Number in Sports" is a gripping biography of both Joe D. himself and the Yankee Clipper's legendary 56-game hitting streak in 1941, but I have some concerns with it.

"Codes" covers stuff like when it is considered "appropriate" to charge the mound, when it is acceptable for other players to join in the fracas, and many other points of etiquette and custom not dealing with fighting as well. There is a lot of material about cheating in all its forms and even significant discussion about when it's "OK" to essentially stop trying too hard, or in other words, how small a lead can be before you have to stop doing things like stealing bases.

Turbow and Duca don't pass judgment but pass along what their research tells them. They use numerous examples to illustrate these codes of conduct and supplement them with extensive interviews and lots of quotes, many on the record. Looking at the big picture, two things out: Players themselves, even teammates, often can't even come to a consensus on what the unwritten rules really are; and partly because of that first factor, baseball players frequently come off as petty when they criticize others for perceived slights or offenses against the game.

It's an excellent book with a great flow, one that offers solid structure and clarity while letting the players' voices stand out. This is an excellent read, and maybe it's because I expected little, but it's one of the most entertaining sports volumes I've read lately.

I'm not sure that all the anecdotes in "Codes" are authentic, but at least they come from research and/or interviews, and the authors provide extensive notes on their work and quote people within the text. Kennedy takes a more troubling approach in "56."

On one hand, his ambition is admirable, as he paints vivid portraits of New York in 1941, with rich details and numerous quotes of both everyday citizens and the athletes and prominent figures in the narrative. But when I dug into it, I wondered how he was getting such detail. Clearly he interviewed people like Mario Cuomo and Gay Talese for their reminisces about what DiMaggio and the Streak meant to them and their contemporaries. But Joe D. and teammate and close friend Lefty Gomez (a key figure in the story) are dead, and one wonders where Kennedy gets all their direct quotes and thoughts. Is he drawing from others' reportage, using secondary sources, or recreating conversations based on what he thinks happened? I don't know, because Kennedy doesn't tell us. I kept expecting him to address this at some point, preferably up front but at least in a section in the back, but unless I missed it, there is no explanation in the book. Dayn Perry's Reggie Jackson bio at least featured a message from the author relating his thought process as to why and how he included dialogue he imagined.

So I had doubts in the back of my mind while reading "56." Another area Kennedy's ambition may overwhelm his book is the writing style, which seems to be aiming for something more literary than your standard sports history, but sometimes results in some awkward prose. I should know. The reader who borrowed the book from the library before me included some "helpful" underlinings and notes in the margins to highlight some of it.

OK, so I have issues with the book. But "56" remains a compelling read. The concept is a great one: Take us through that 1941 season, particularly the streak, and along the way tell the often-intimate story of the great ballplayer, mixing in details about life as a baseball fan in the era through the stories of various fans. There are glimpses of the media coverage and the effect of the streak on the rest of the Yanks and the rest of the major leagues. Kennedy also writes about other notable streaks, particularly Pete Rose's 44-gamer in 1978. There is a less-effective section on statistical analysis as it pertains to hitting streaks, but the author wisely sticks it at the end.

If you can put aside quibbles with some passages and the larger concern of sourcing--and I could enough to get into it--"56" is an exciting story. Kennedy judiciously chooses which games and moments to highlight and which one to cover more briefly, but overall he provides a detailed account of the 56 games.

There are interesting moments as the streak builds and DiMaggio approaches previous records. Pressure mounts not just on Joltin' Joe but on his teammates, who face issues like whether to play for the win in a tight game or play to prolong the game or inning so Joe can get another at-bat and chance to extend the streak. There is also pressure on the official scorers and even opposing pitchers and managers--Is it OK to take the bat out of his hands if he's 0 for 3 and walk him (this is the kind of thing covered in "The Baseball Codes")? Is it more honorable to go after him and pitch to him, even if it contradicts accepted strategy?

Kennedy describes these pressures well and creates a narrative that remains suspenseful even though you know from the title of the book, at the very least, what happens. I wish he were a little more upfront about his approach--or better yet, didn't use that approach because the story didn't require it--and maybe a bit more restrained with his writing, but I do like "56."