[For this year’s Super Bowl week series, I wanted to write about some of our great works of sports literature. Leading up to a special Guest Post from an FSU English Studies alum & budding sports journalist!]
On the baseball
book that serves as a professional inspiration for this AmericanStudier.
I first read
Daniel Okrent’s Nine
Innings: The Anatomy of a Baseball Game (1985) as a kid, and the
book—in which Okrent uses a single June 1982 game between the Milwaukee Brewers
and the Baltimore Orioles to tell literally hundreds of different baseball
stories—has stuck with me ever since. Partly that’s because I love baseball,
and in particular the way in which the game’s slower pace allows for an
awareness of all the stories and histories and statistics (among other things)
that are in play in every moment; I don’t know of any work that captures that side
to the sport as well as Okrent’s book, and so I’d say it’s a must-read for any
baseball fan. But it’s also because Okrent’s book serves as a model for what
I’d call two central goals of all public scholarship and writing, and certainly
of mine (here and elsewhere).
For one thing,
Okrent knows that the best histories, however much they connect to huge
communal and social and cultural issues, are made most compelling when they’re
also and centrally connected to individual stories. That’s one main reason why
I focused on individual lives and personal narratives in my
second book; why my
third included at length the stories of Yung
Wing and his Chinese
Educational Mission students; and why even as my subsequent books have
focused more on overarching ideas and histories, I’ve tried to ground each in
such stories. Each time Okrent pauses in the game’s action to narrate another
individual story and identity (I particularly remember the one about
Baltimore’s Lenn
Sakata, but they’re all compelling), I suppose it might seem digressive or
like delayed gratification; but to me, those individual stories not only
complement the unfolding communal drama but greatly enhance it, making clear
all of the lives and histories on which each and every such moment depend.
And for another
thing, Okrent creates that sense of drama. Granted, a baseball game, like any
sporting event with a winner and loser, is inherently dramatic (although some
might disagree about baseball!). But I think there’s still a broader lesson for
public scholars, particularly after a few decades in which the idea of writing
as narrative or story has tended to be supplanted by theoretical and academic
modes that entirely resist those goals. What Okrent demonstrates, on the other
hand, is that writers can be nuanced and analytical and yet still create
narratives and stories, and deeply dramatic and compelling ones at that.
American history is full of such stories (Yung Wing’s and the CEM students’
being two of my personal favorites, which is why I’ll be returning to them again
in my next book; but of course they are two of many), waiting to be re-told
and communicated to American audiences. They’re not simple, and our work with
them shouldn’t be. But if they’re worth telling ,they’re worth telling to as
broad and deep an audience as possible—and Okrent gives us great guidance in
how to do so.
Guest Post this
weekend,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other sports literature or writing you’d highlight?
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