October 3, 1951.
As Joshua Prager, the author of THE ECHOING GREEN rightly points out, this is a landmark date for many pre-Baby Boomers. Over the years I have asked my elders who were baseball fans if they remember where they were when Bobby Thomson homered off Ralph Branca on that date. Dodgers fans recall the agony, not only of the moment, but also of the following day when they were mercilessly ribbed throughout their 8+ hours at work.
Prager creates almost unbearable tension as he leads up to the pitch and swing, focusing not only on the pitcher and hitter, but also, it seemed, on every fan at the Polo Grounds, in Brooklyn, and in Harlem. Not only the fans, of course, but those men in the dugouts whose fortunes, at least for that year, would be decided in this final game of the playoff. (In the beginning of the EPILOGUE, Prager wrote,
“When journalist Martin Arnold sought at the start of the new millennium to convey the power of alternative history, of the envisioning might-have-beens, he proposed three hypotheticals. [One was] What if in 1951 Thomson had struck out?” As most longtime baseball fans know, a strikeout would have been only the second out of the inning, bringing rookie Willie Mays to the plate.
Much of the book dealt with the sign-stealing caper initiated by Giants manager Leo Durocher on July 19 that continued, off and on, up to Branca’s fateful pitch. While much would be made of this up to a half-century later, it seems logical to this reader (and reviewer) that Thomson would have been expecting a fastball, indeed all fastballs from Branca. Next to giving up a hit or a home run, the last thing Branca would have wanted to do was break off a curve that, a la Mickey Owen in the 1941 World Series, could have bounced past catcher Rube Walker.
I could go on and on about the baseball written by Prager, but I need to address the author’s writing.
While reading this book I was also reading Roger Ebert’s THE GREAT MOVIES, short reviews of one hundred movies. The first one, presented in alphabetical order, is 2001: A Space Odyssey. Ebert wrote of the Hollywood premier of the picture, greatly anticipated by the stars, (behind and in front of the camera), of the silver screen. One of those stars, Rock Hudson, “stalked down the aisle, audibly complaining, ‘Will someone tell me what the hell this is about?’”
The title of this book reminded me of this scene, for, without the cover picture, one would be hard-pressed to conclude that the book is about what has been named the greatest moment in baseball history.
Speaking of the movies, Prager gave away the answer to one of my favorite trivia questions: What was the date of Sonny Corleone’s murder in THE GODFATHER?
Prager’s writing style seems to date back to the early days of 20th Century sports writers, reminiscent of Ring Lardner, for one. However, what was popular prose then is probably less so now, especially, I dare say, to sports fans, who prefer the straight facts without the flowery language.
In the last five years or so I have read about three hundred books. One of my reading quirks is picking out words unique to the book I’m reading. On average I find about half a dozen new words per book. Prager introduced me to scores of them. It is helpful for the reader to have a dictionary close by.
Another trait Prager started in this, his first book, and has apparently continued in later books, according to reviews of those books is his tendency to jump back and forth between characters. Many chapters focus on the lives of Thomson and Branca during a common period of time. Prager will write of Thomson for a couple of paragraphs and then, without warning, switch to Branca, back to Thomson, to Branca, and so on. This does not make for smooth and fast reading.
Prager is also careless. He consistently referred to the primary baseball newspaper of the era as the Sporting News instead of The Sporting News. (It has had the former moniker since 2002.) He also named perhaps the most famous church in New York City St. Patrick’s cathedral, lower-casing the C. And while most readers may not notice it, he misspelled the last name of one of the broadcasters of the final 1951 National League playoff game. That broadcaster spoke this eloquent sentiment, from page 195:
“Twenty years from now, the fans will be talking about this afternoon’s hero, as yet unknown. If there is a goat, his name will echo down the corridor of time.”
The man who spoke those words was Gordon McLendon, not McClendon.
Prager’s baseball judgment seems a bit shaky at times. One example is on page 171 in which the author writes that Branca’s ERA in 1948 dropped to a respectable 4.39. That may be somewhat acceptable in 2022 but not during Baseball’s Golden Age.
Finally, the title of this book could be Everything You Wanted to Know About the Final At Bat of the 1951 National League Playoff but Were Afraid to Ask. Too much information.
Four stars steeply waning.