What is a hero? To a 12 year-old baseball freak, it’s a major league knuckleball pitcher writing a funny, insightful book that infuriated baseball’s potentates and fuddy-duddies in 1970.
I’m talking about Jim Bouton and his ground-breaking book, Ball Four, a journal of his 1969 season with the one-year wonder Seattle Pilots and Houston Astros. Along with his account of that season, Bouton served plentiful helpings of his glory days with the Yankees, where he was a 20-game winner, won two World Series games and an all-star. He told tales of baseball card heroes like Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford boozing it up, chasing broads, and engaging in Peeping Tom escapades known as “Shooting Beaver”.
For some reason, this didn’t go over well with the lordly Yankees, their fans, players, and the mainstream media.
It got Bouton banned from the Yankees “Old Timer’s Day” reunions for nearly 30 years. At the heart of this discontent was that Bouton had broken baseball’s code of Omerta: what you see, say, and hear in the clubhouse, stays in the clubhouse. Anyone telling tales out of this school was going to pay a heavy price, and Bouton was labeled “baseball’s Benedict Arnold” and “a social leper”. It no doubt helped lead to the demise of the first stage of his career as a player (he retired in 1970, then made the majors again for an incredible comeback with the Braves in 1978).
I don’t just like this book: it’s my baseball bible and have long considered Bouton a hero for showing players as flawed, funny humans. Jim was threatened with lawsuits and a turn on the rack for essentially telling the truth of what it was like to be a big-league ballplayer. His book is about what it means to be human, with all of life’s peaks and valleys. The New York Times said “Ball Four is a people book, not just a baseball book”.
He released a number of updates over the years, with the last edition, “The Final Pitch”, out in 2001. In this final chapter of the series, he tells of the tragic death of his daughter, Laurie, in a 1997 automobile accident. Bouton wrote in depth about his family in all versions of the Ball Four books, and devoted readers got to know all of the Bouton children in detail. Laurie sounded like a delightful sprite, a beautiful spirit who was the apple of her father’s eye. As a father myself, I found myself blubbering in tears reading this painful account. Those tears flowed again reading about Bouton’s son, Michael, writing a piece in the New York Times, asking the Yankees to let bygones be, well, bygones. Michael noted his sister’s passing and felt it was time for his father join other Yankee heroes of the past for Old-Timers day at Yankee Stadium on Father’s Day, 1998. Michael’s wish was granted, as Bouton stood on the field in his Yankee uniform, doffing his cap to the crowd, while family and friends hung a banner proclaiming, “we love you, Laurie”.
As the 40 anniversary of Ball Four approached, I suggested to the Baseball Reliquary’s Terry Cannon that he consider mounting a celebration of the book. Terry liked the idea and we spent about a year putting the event together. A key piece of the puzzle was having Jim Bouton attend live and in person. We also invited Ball Four teammates Greg Goossen and Tommy Davis, and nearly had Gary Bell in the bag until he declined late in the day.
The night before the event, we were to have dinner with Jim. Bouton had been elected to the Reliquary’s Shrine of the Eternals in 2001, so Terry was on familiar ground with him. I’ve worked in the entertainment business for 30 years, and I rarely get jelly-legged meeting so-called stars, celebrities, and hot shots. But this was different. Bouton was a hero of mine since childhood, and I immediately began to panic. I recalled a friend who said he’d never want to meet one of his heroes in person, fearing he’d discover that person was a big jerk. Not only was I worried about that, I worried I might say the wrong thing and end up sounding like a big dope in front of one of my favorite heroes.
Such concerns were dashed quickly. The dinner with Jim was delightful, and we all talked easily. The good will of the Reliquary was in play, and Jim was personable, friendly, engaging, and funny. Just like the guy who wrote that book.
During a break in the 40th anniversary event, I interviewed Jim for the film and told him how my brothers and I read Ball Four with our eyes agog that summer of 1970. His interview and the “Ball Four Turns Forty” event are featured in the film. If you weren’t there, the event was a smash and completely off-the-hook. It ran for something like 5 hours to a packed house at Burbank Library’s auditorium. People brought armloads of dog-eared copies of Bouton’s books for him to sign. There was the world premiere of the terrific Seattle Pilots documentary, a panel on the cultural impact of the book featuring filmmaker Ron Shelton (Bull Durham), author Jean Hastings Ardell, and David Kipen, former director of literature for the NEA. The day was capped by a mini-reunion of Seattle Pilot teammates Bouton, Goossen, and Davis. The love and joy they had for each other was not diminished by time or geography, and the stories flowed like wine. At the end of the day, a local sports reporter told me, “you’ve (the Reliquary) just made a generation of baseball fans very happy”.
Maybe so, but I was beyond geeked that day and was thrilled to see so many others who held the book in the same regard. A personal highlight was Jim showing me how to throw a knuckleball (see photo above). Jim and his wife, Paula, seemed to enjoy themselves, and he later said it was a day he’d never forget.
Almost two years later, the afterglow of that eventful day remains. A ball Jim autographed for me resides in a place of honor in my office: next to a 1964 red and white Corvette model and one of the flying blue monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. A fine trio tied to the vivid memories of kid who grew up in the 1960s.
Not Exactly Cooperstown 