High Heat: The Secret History of the Fastball and the Improbable Search for the Fastest Pitcher of All Time

by Tim Wendel
DaCapo Press (2010)
$25.00 (hardcover); 288 pages

From the day in 1859 when Jim Creighton of the Niagara Club displayed his rising speed pitch against the Star Club of Brooklyn—and perhaps even prior to that—observers of baseball have debated who is “the fastest pitcher of all time.”

Across the years the controversy has rung out on baseball diamonds, in clubhouses, bars, barbershops, banquet halls, and SABR meetings. It has filled the pages of newspapers, magazines, and sports journals. William Curran, John Thorn and John Holway, Rob Neyer, Bill James, Martin Quigley, Jack Newcombe, and Roger Kahn have written entire books on pitching and pitchers. Tim Wendel is the latest author to offer a book-length celebration of fastballers.

Wendel concedes up front that the task of identifying the fastest pitcher of all time is both impossible and improbable. He is correct, of course. His aspiration is impossible because for most of the history of the game there has been no consensus among players, managers, scouts, agents, or fans as to who deserves the honor. Nor, most of that time, has there existed an instrument capable of measuring accurately the speed of a thrown ball.

The search is also improbable because it is highly unlikely that a single standard can be reached on how to measure the pitch that is quickest to the plate. Is such an achievement to be predicated on the speed of a pitch as it leaves the pitcher’s hand or as it crosses the plate? Is it to be based on several pitches calibrated by a speed gun? Numerous pitches throughout a game? Consistent speed in the strike zone? Measured speed over a several-year period? Should the quickest pitch be judged by batters’ perception? Do pitchers exist whose deliveries appear to be the quickest to the plate even though their measured speed is appreciably below 100 mph?

Under chapter headings constituting the various aspects of the pitcher’s motion (“Windup,” “Pivot,” “The Stride,” “Arm Acceleration,” “Release,” and “Follow Through”), Wendel explores the components associated with the ability to throw a baseball swiftly: a hurler’s physical and emotional makeup, his mechanics, his circumstances, the impact upon readers of writers and commentators describing the act, and pure luck.

Timing, too, is important. Those fortunate enough to watch Amos Rusie in 1890–91, Rube Waddell in 1903–04, Joe Wood in 1912, Walter Johnson in 1913–14, Lefty Grove in 1930–31, Sandy Koufax in 1963–66, or Bob Gibson in 1968 saw greater speed from those pitchers than if they’d witnessed them at other periods in their careers.

Before getting deep into his research for High Heat, Wendel understood that his conclusions would be equivocal, and that few readers—no matter who he chose as the fastest ever—would wholeheartedly embrace his choices. So rather than embarking on a systematic and comprehensive effort to identify a ranked list of the game’s hardest throwers, Wendel opted for a personal and clearly idiosyncratic journey in search of opinions, anecdotes, press accounts, recollections, and other sources of lore about hard-throwing hurlers.

High Heat takes its readers on a serpentine journey to Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame, to Jim Creighton’s grave site in Green-Wood Cemetery, New York, to the new Durham Bulls Athletic Park in Durham, North Carolina, to Billy Wagner’s home in the hills of Virginia, and to the American Sports Medicine Academy in Birmingham, Alabama.

Along the way, beyond comparisons of hard throwers, Wendel and friend Phil Pote treat readers to observations on topics such as the surprising number of fastballers spawned by small towns, the height of the pitching mound and its impact on pitching speed, the movie Bull Durham, the peculiarities of speed guns (the JUGS is the ‘fast’ gun, the RAGUN the ‘slow’ gun), the cadence of Joan Didion’s prose, and even Wendel’s own ability—lack of, actually—to throw heat.

Not surprisingly, Wendel and his readers discover the faulty recollections, myths, hyperbole, miscalculations, and outright lies that constitute much of baseball’s collective memory. High Heat shows that the line between myth and reality in baseball, although very fuzzy, is part of its charm. The result is an entertaining, informative, and provocative read.

Whether it’s persuasive is a different matter. Wendel reminds his readers that each generation of baseball people have their favorites for the hardest-throwing pitcher, but makes no comprehensive effort to judge the usual suspects. There is no mention of Asa Brainard, Jim Whitney, Guy Hecker, Larry Corcoran, Jouett Meekin, Kid Nichols, Dazzy Vance, Robin Roberts, or Kyle Farnsworth, and only passing mention of the likes of George Zettlein, Tommy Bond, Charlie Sweeney, Rube Waddell, Grover Cleveland Alexander, Sam McDowell, or Jim Maloney.

He admits to giving more space to Amos Rusie, Walter Johnson, Joe Wood, Lefty Grove, Bob Feller, Nolan Ryan, and Sandy Koufax not only because of speed but also because their fastballs attracted the attention of eloquent and persuasive wordsmiths. Joel Zumaya, Stephen Strasburg, Tim Lincecum, Joba Chamberlain, and Aroldis Chapman—the most recent candidates for the honor of throwing harder than anyone else—are discussed, but coverage of them is surprisingly skimpy. David Price and Billy Wagner fare somewhat better.

Based on the assessment of his “experts,” Wendel selects twelve of the game’s hardest throwers in order: Nolan Ryan, Steve Dalkowski, Bob Feller, Walter Johnson, Sandy Koufax, Billy Wagner, Satchel Paige, Joel Zumaya, Amos Rusie, Goose Gossage, Bob Gibson, and J.R. Richard. For all his earlier equivocating, Wendel insists that he is “comfortable” with his selection of Ryan as the fastest pitcher in the history of organized baseball.

In addition to realizing that satisfaction comes from the journey as much as from his ultimate choices, Wendel argues implicitly that it is necessary to fully value the factors that go into succeeding on the big league level even for young men with the God-given ability to throw hard. The list of young men with a capacity to buzz the ball by batters who failed to succeed in the higher echelons of baseball is long and sad.

It’s more than the speed with which an endless parade of young pitchers has thrown the ball that draws Wendel to the subject. He is drawn to the men themselves, their promise, their emotional and psychological battles to deal with their talent and with their separation from mere mortals, and the mental and physical battles in harnessing their amazing athletic gift. He demonstrates how having the ability to throw in the 100 mph range can be both a blessing and a curse, and his skill as an observer and a writer permits readers to vicariously experience that actuality.

For Wendel, no one exemplifies the tribulations confronting hard throwers better than Steve Dalkowski, a left-handed phenom from New Britain, Connecticut who never made it to the majors. Dalkowski’s story is the thread that holds Wendel’s disparate tale together, supplies its momentum, and provides much of its emotional impact. The prototype for “Nuke” LaLoosh in Bull Durham, the tragic Dalkowski, whose career succumbed to wildness on and off the mound, remains for Wendel the epitome of both the promise and reality of baseball.

Wendel, who teaches writing courses at Johns Hopkins University, offers his students an exemplary lesson in how to exercise the writer’s craft. He holds his readers’ attention through graceful and clear prose, informative chapters, thoughtful and entertaining observations, and intelligent judgments, carefully qualified when warranted.

Although his omissions and commissions will lead to arguments, most readers will probably put the book down and want to buy Wendel a drink and continue the debate. Early in his book Wendel says that his quest “promises to be a lot of fun” (p. xii). He delivers on that promise, which is high praise for any author.

by Dave Hoekstra
Can’t Miss Press (2009)
$24.95 (hardcover); 289 pages

Jeremy Justus became a ballpark beer vendor because “I wanted to give something back to the fans … be part of the team.” But although he liked vending, he missed being able to watch the game. So Justus decided to pack it in and continue his travels that have taken him to ballparks in 45 of the lower 48 states. Jeremy’s story is one of 66 short chapters about Midwest League baseball in this fascinating and readable book.

Dave Hoekstra, who has written about travel, music, culture, and sports for the Chicago Sun-Times for a quarter-century, has traveled to all the cities of the Midwest League. In this “field guide,” Hoekstra collects MWL-themed articles he wrote for the paper over the last 15 years and adds a few brand-new essays about the league. Along the way, the author touches on topics as varied as the House of David baseball team, families who host minor league players, and baseball in Japan. Another chapter discusses a Midwestern microbrewery which helps to acquire headstones for unmarked graves of Negro Leagues players. Want to find a good, varied beer list and a vegetarian food menu? Try Elfstrom Stadium in Geneva, Illinois, home of the Kane County Cougars. What is the best place in America to understand minor league baseball? Hoekstra believes that it’s Clinton, Iowa.

In Geneva, Hoekstra interviews Ria Cortesio, an umpire with aspirations of getting to the big time. (Updates are included at the end of many chapters; Ms. Cortesio was released after the 2007 season.) Peoria owner Pete Vonachen lists the requirements of being a friend of Harry Caray, one of which is to “keep your divorce lawyer on retainer.” Some of Hoekstra’s chapters discuss the economic realities of the league. He discusses baseball marketing strategy with Mike Veeck (Bill’s son) and reveals what the West Michigan Whitecaps do to try to increase attendance in the Grand Rapids area.

What is the smallest town in the U.S. with a full-season non-independent league team? It’s Burlington, Iowa, which now is even smaller than when the book went to press. 2011 projections estimate Burlington’s population at 38,500. Hoekstra devotes several chapters to the ways that the locals keep professional baseball alive in this shrinking town.

At the opposite end of the spectrum from Burlington is Dayton, Ohio, home of season-long consecutive sellouts at a $22.7 million ballpark. Dayton has sold out 774 straight games and typically draws over 500,000 fans per season, a total almost unheard of for a low Class A league.

Some of the book’s most poignant chapters concern Midwest League alumni. The late Dan Quisenberry is described as “more poet than baseball player” by his former teammate Paul Splittorff, while Moe Hill, who led the Midwest League in home runs four times and was a four-time All-Star, is profiled; he remains a league legend but never advanced above Double-A. There are also chapters about Midwest League players who achieved success, including Adrian Gonzalez, Earl Weaver, and Edgar Renteria.

The book’s concluding chapter concerns former Yankees shortstop Tony Kubek and his divorce from baseball. Kubek’s story is included due to his residence in Appleton, Wisconsin, which for years was a Midwest League mainstay. In places, Cougars and Snappers and Loons is dated, but that is part of the game when reading collected essays. It is a pleasure to read a book by a writer of Mr. Hoekstra’s caliber, and the foreword by 283-game winner Jim Kaat is a nice touch, even though he never actually pitched in the Midwest League after initially being assigned to Appleton in 1957.

Books on the Midwest League are difficult to come by and this is an excellent addition to any library of minor league baseball.

Beyond DiMaggio: Italian Americans in Baseball

by Lawrence Baldassaro
University of Nebraska Press (2011)
$34.95 (hardcover); 520 pages

I know you’ve heard of Yogi Berra, Joe Torre, Tony La Russa, and Joe DiMaggio. But have you heard of Ed Abbaticchio, Lou Schiappacasse, Francesco Pezzolo, or Prospero Bilangio? If you haven’t, then you need to read this book, a beautifully written story of a particular group of immigrants to America—Italians—and how their descendants came to enter, conquer, and meld into baseball.

Lawrence Baldassaro writes that one goal of this book is to “document the many ways that the descendants of those immigrants enriched baseball throughout the twentieth century, both on and off the field.” While not claiming that Italian Americans fundamentally changed the way the game is played, he says his book “is more about the impact the game has had on Italian Americans, as both participants and spectators, in terms of their sense of self identity.”

Baldassaro accomplishes both in a richly researched and thoroughly documented work. Beyond DiMaggio matches the scope of two other essential books on the social history of immigrants, reaching the depth of Peter Levine’s Ellis Island to Ebbets Field: Sport and the American Jewish Experience (Oxford, 1992) and matching the sheer joy of reading provided by Reaching for the Stars: A Celebration of Italian Americans in Major League Baseball, edited by Larry Freundlich (Ballantine, 2003).

In looking beyond Joe DiMaggio, Baldassaro digs deeply into Italian pioneers from Ed Abbaticchio to Tony Lazzeri. He soon arrives at the turning point: the 1930s, when Italian American players rose to the top of the game. Next, Baldassaro writes about the postwar boom and baseball in New York during the game’s “golden age,” a time in which Italian Americans were still dominant. The 1960s are what he calls the “last Italians,” the ones still rooted in the old Italian tradition but losing their “Italianness.”

Lastly, Baldassaro describes “transitional Italians” from the 1970s, who were clearly more American than Italian. In addition to ballplayers, he also writes about those Italian Americans in labor and management as well as the executive suite.

The history of Italians in American baseball mirrors the history of Italians in America. There was much derision of the Southern and Eastern Europeans who came to America. Name calling was common throughout the early years of their entry, from Ed Abbaticchio’s first games in Philadelphia in 1897, through the end of the 1940s. Outright discrimination was not unusual. At the turn of the twentieth century, Italians were not considered white; they were often not allowed to live in white neighborhoods. Lynching of Italians for various “crimes” was not uncommon. But through it all and despite it all, Italian Americans made their mark in baseball.

Throughout the book, Baldassaro leads off with a short historical background for each section. Then he introduces an Italian player, presenting family information and ending with how the player broke into baseball. He next succinctly blends a short history of the individual as a player, tossing in quotations from his many interviews. He includes wonderful statistics, relating how a player ranked in accomplishing his baseball feats as an Italian and sometimes comparing those stats against those of other major leaguers. Here’s an example on page 72 about Tony Lazzeri:

[Lazzeri in 1927] again hit eighteen homers (third-best in the league), drove in 102 runs, raised his
batting average to .309, and stole twenty-two bases. On June 8 he hit three home runs against Chicago, becoming only the sixth man in American League history to do so. But then, it was an extraordinary year for the entire Yankee team, still considered by many to be the greatest in Major League history. Six players from that roster that won 110 games and swept the World Series are in the Hall of Fame, as well as Manager Miller Huggins and General Manager Ed Barrow.

Baldassaro presents a fair view of the how the nation responded to the influx and advances of immigrants from the 1880s through the 1940s. The 1920s saw the KKK, the Sacco and Vanzetti trial and execution, and the passage of the immigration laws that severely restricted Southern and Eastern European immigration. All of these developments created an atmosphere of hostility not only toward Italians but also to other immigrant groups. Lazzeri, one of 16 players identifiable as Italian who appeared in the 1920s, was subject to vilification and called “wop” and “dago” among other terms of derision.

When reading about the success of so many Italians in the major leagues in the 1930s, one gets a clear picture of the struggle they personally had to internalize while at the same time performing the job they were paid to do. You sense the agony of leaving the security and safety of their families and making it on their own, becoming strangers in a strange land. It all makes the reader feel just how difficult it was to be an immigrant in baseball.

Following the Second World War, in which more than one million Italian Americans fought for their country, baseball cleaned up its act and began to rid itself of ethnic slurs. And when Jackie Robinson joined the majors, everyone else was “white” regardless of nationality.

Baldassaro devotes two chapters to labor and management and executives. Here he shows how Italian Americans made their mark in sports media, as umpires, as managers and general managers, and as owners. His last section is about A. Bartlett Giamatti, who gave up his prestigious position as president of Yale University in 1986 to become the twelfth president of the National League, and then commissioner of baseball in 1989. In the author’s words, “No one, I think, better epitomizes the culmination of the evolution of Italian Americans in baseball—or in American society, for that matter—than Angelo Bartlett Giamatti.”

This is an American story as well as a comprehensive study of Italians in baseball. Baldassaro conducted more than 50 interviews with players, coaches, managers, and executives—some with careers dating back to the 1930s—to put all these figures and their stories into the historical context of baseball, Italian Americans, and, ultimately, the culture of American sports. Beyond DiMaggio includes 30 photos, 165 bibliographic entries, and a fairly thorough index.

A reviewer’s job is to help guide you to a book of value, quality, insights, fairness, and, ultimately, revelations about its subject in the hope that you will be transformed. Beyond DiMaggio is one such book.