This was a great book. I'm surprised it took me so long to find it.
This recounts the author's experience of being at the first game of the 1954 World Series between the NY Giants and the Cleveland Indians, in which Willie Mays made his legendary catch. The Indians lost the game in extra innings, and went on to be swept in the series, after having racked up 111 wins in the regular season. This crushing blow came only days before my own birth in Cleveland, and set the tone for decades of frustration for Cleveland fans like myself. In 1997, my hopes tentatively resurrected, Cleveland again blew the World Series, this time in extra innings of game 7. Oh well.
This is a short book, but one to savor. The author sits in the bleachers, which I have never done. Part of that experience, then anyway, was banter among the denizens of the bleachers. This was amusing, and added to the account.
Things that he lingered over were sometimes things still of interest now, such as the pace of the game. He complained sometimes about the time involved between pitches. Apparently there was a 20-second rule that the umps were supposed to enforce, but rarely did. He looked back (p. 149) on the good old days when games were more like an hour and thirty or forty minutes. We now look back at the good old days of the 1970's, when the average time was 2 and a half hours. In 2014 the average time of a game had crept above 3 hours. And some new rules instituted this year decreased the average time by 8 MINUTES! Maybe fans should just think of it is as getting more for their money over the decades.
Other things he lingered over are of less concern now. In the chapter where he recounts Mays' amazing catch (Chapter 10) he spends time describing (pp. 116-124) where he looked during the hit/catch/throw back to the infield. He watched the ball, he watched Mays running toward the ball, he watched the 2 runners (on first and second) and how they reacted to the hit, he watched the throw, he watched where the infielders placed themselves for the throw. Of course all this was happening at the same time, so he couldn't see it all. But, as a good watcher of baseball, he didn't want to simply watch the ball, as there was so much else of interest to see at the same time. In a way, this is still a dilemma for a fan watching a game in person. But instant reply, both at the stadium, and much more so on TV, has made this dilemma almost irrelevant. Far from watching everything at once, you can miss the play altogether and still see it, from all angles, ad nauseum. This is of course particularly true on TV, where interesting plays can be replayed 4 or 5 times, from different angles, before we move on. It's a technological advance we can enjoy and regret. The author dislikes the fact that people brought transistor radios to the game with them, as though they needed someone to tell them what they were seeing. He even imagines a day when people might bring portable TV's with them to the game--a day that has in fact arrived (60 years later). And he dislikes the fact that televising games at home decreases the chance that people will come out to the game themselves. All of which is now true, but also probably for the good.
He also voices concerns about teams moving (Boston Braves had gone to Milwaukee by then, the St. Louis Browns had just become the Baltimore Orioles), and about players being traded from team to team (which happens MUCH more now, not to mention free agency). Back then there was much more of a sense that a team was constituted by a set of players that one grew to know and, presumably, love. Now a team is much more a name and a location, with a very fluid association with players that temporarily make it up. The 2015 World Series that just concluded, Mets vs. Royals, was notable for the fact that the Mets had the longest tenured player in MLB, David Wright--at 11 years. And this is notable now not for the longevity so much as the rarity.
The author seemed sure in advance that the Giants would win that series. It could be just what a (Giants) fan would say. But he claimed that the Indians got their many wins by bottom-feeding: beating up on the bad teams in the league, while only breaking even with the good teams. I hadn't known that. But, in the course of the telling of this game, he gained a considerable respect for the Indians even so.
Another interesting thing was how much he talked about superstition. He would take certain things as good or bad signs. E.g., if a player does well in batting practice--you could take that to mean he will do well in the game, but you might also take it to mean he has shot his wad before the game and now will do less well. The author is rather self-conscious about this in his telling of it. But it resonates even now, I think fans (well, I) do this same kind of thinking in the course of games.
Suffice it to say I loved this book, for what it recalled, as well as for the perspective it gave on the present.