Now that the World Series is over and the hot stove league is in full swing — and as baseball fans cast worrisome glances toward labor talks and a possible lockout — a good book about the game’s history is appropriate and desperately needed.
Not only a good book, but also a work that will get the juices flowing and the arguments going.
That’s what Joe Posnanski achieves in The Baseball 100 (Avid Reader Press; $40; hardback, 871 pages), a massive book of 100 chapters that ranks baseball’s greatest in descending order from No. 100 (Ichiro) to No. 1 (Willie Mays). There are 88 Hall of Famers in the book and plenty of big names in between, including 13 men who played in the Negro Leagues.
And there’s lots of room for discussion. Besides, any dyed-in-the-wool baseball fan loves to argue.
I’m being honest here: I read every chapter in order and did not skip ahead. I also did not peek to see who was ranked No. 1, although the temptation was great. Some readers will skip around, and that’s their right. It was more satisfying that way because it prevented me from developing any early biases. And in history, that’s crucial.
“The trouble with retelling history,” Posnanski writes, “is that it’s hard to fully capture the times and the stakes and the danger.”
Posnanski does it perfectly, viewing each player from the lens of his contemporaries. He crafts wonderful stories and tells them engagingly. There are no snoozers in this book. And there are some interesting revelations.
Who, for example, thought Napoleon Lajoie was as hot-headed and feisty as Ty Cobb? Lajoie once spiked three fielders in the same inning, and was suspended for throwing a wad of chewing tobacco in an umpire’s face. And yet, Posnanski writes, everyone “adored” Lajoie.
“See, beyond the rough and tumble, Lajoie was just so friendly and fun-loving, he was irresistible,” Posnanski writes.
Writing about Frank Robinson, Posnanski notes, that “Frank Robinson, for me, will always represent what it feels like to be eight years old.”
“The mind teeters between what’s real and what is magic,” he writes.
Those are the kinds of insights that make The Baseball 100 such a pleasure to read.
Posnanski’s writing is punchy, witty with occasional snark, and filled with statistics and personal observations. He has been a sportswriter (at The Kansas City Star), magazine writer (Sports Illustrated and The Athletic), blogger, podcast host and best-selling author. The Baseball 100 oozes with irresistible joy about baseball and memories of the game, and that is due to Posnanski’s curiosity about the players on and off the field.
He is also not afraid to throw in some offbeat pop culture references. The Baseball 100 might be the first time (and correct me if I am wrong, please) that a book about baseball history referenced Romeo Void and its 1982 New Wave hit, “Never Say Never.” If he had also mentioned lead singer Debora Iyall, I probably would have fallen out of my chair.
Posnanski even references Cliff Dapper, who played in only eight major league games but has the highest career batting average for any player with at least 15 plate appearances (.471 in 17 at-bats). He also is the only player ever traded for announcer, as Dapper was traded by the Brooklyn Dodgers to the minor league Atlanta Crackers for Ernie Harwell.
Some of the choices in this book may seem out of left field, but only for where a player is ranked. But the reader soon realizes that ranking is not necessarily Posnanski’s ultimate goal. Sure, he had a framework for deciding who made the top 100: Wins above replacement, peak wins above replacement, how multidimensional a player was, the era in which they played and intangibles (postseason excellence, sportsmanship, leadership, years lost to military service and overall impact on the game). That raises the bar and gives Posnanski’s choices some heft.
But he cannot resist ranking several players by numbers that we associate them with. Joe DiMaggio is ranked No. 56, a nod to his 56-game hitting streak, Grover Cleveland Alexander is No. 26 because of his famous strikeout of Tony Lazzeri in the 1926 World Series. Mariano Rivera is No. 91 because of Psalm 91, the Psalm of Protection. Fitting.
Uniform numbers are the reason for ranking Bob Gibson at No. 45, Jackie Robinson at No. 42, Tom Seaver at No. 41, Greg Maddux at No. 31, Mike Trout at No. 27 and Rickey Henderson at No. 24. Frank Robinson and Mike Schmidt, who both wore No. 20, are tied at No. 20 in Posnanski’s book.
“The point is that I tried to attach a number that fit the player,” Posnanski writes
And Posnanski has a great sense of humor about some of his rankings. Nolan Ryan is No. 50, but after reciting the right-hander’s monumental records (positive and negative), Posnanski confesses that “trying to find a place for Ryan on a list like this is a bit like trying to figure out where the Beatles belong on your list of favorite pastas.”
In other words, relax and let it be.
Some players, like “Shoeless” Joe Jackson are not on the list, and Posnanski left No. 19 blank to remind fans of the 1919 Black Sox.
Pete Rose, meanwhile, is at No. 60.
“You can lose yourself in Pete Rose’s numbers,” Posnanski writes. “You know how Pete Rose played? He played the way old ballplayers imagine they had played.”
Gambling history notwithstanding, you cannot keep Rose out of a book of baseball’s greatest, although writers will keep him out of the Hall of Fame. The same goes for Barry Bonds (No. 3), and Posnanski presents his chapter by breaking it up into passages “for Bonds critics” and “for Bonds fans.”
Controversy has its privileges.
Other players who are most likely persona non grata for Cooperstown include Roger Clemens (No. 13) and Alex Rodriguez (No. 16), who is making his first appearance on the Hall of Fame ballot.
“There’s no point in trying to clean up Alex Rodriguez’s brilliant, infuriating, dazzling, inauthentic, breathtaking, destructive, and altogether messy baseball career,” Posnanski writes. A-Rod was a three-time MVP and “a tabloid back-page tabloid.”
Curt Schilling missed out again in Hall of Fame balloting last year, and he comes in at No. 88 in the book — although Posnanski concedes, “I can’t quite figure him out.”
Schilling is a guy who retweeted a post about a T-shirt advocating the lynching of journalists, but also sent Posnanski a thank you email about his column after the Diamondbacks pitcher won Game 1 of the 2001 World Series.
“Yes, he would pick fights, say offensive things, push the boundaries of taste and compassion. But he was also deeply generous. In his career, he won the Branch Rickey Award, the Roberto Clemente Award, the Lou Gehrig Award, and the Hutch Award, all of them for charity, community service, and displaying admirable character on and off the field, Posnanski writes. “He gave tirelessly of his time to support the military, to support children’s charities, to support people in need.”
The most controversial pick in the book might be Oscar Charleston, at No. 5, but not if you read Jeremy Beers’ excellent 2019 biography, Oscar Charleston: The Life and Legend of Baseball’s Greatest Forgotten Player. He is ranked one spot behind Henry Aaron and one ahead of Ted Williams, and Posnanski admits that he wants this ranking “to make you angry.”
“I want you to feel the fury of this ranking, feel it down deep,” Posnanski writes.
Because Posnanski writes with such joyous flair, it is appropriate that his No. 1 player is Mays. That’s hard to argue, but baseball fans will do that because, well, they love to argue.
“Who was the greatest player of all time? You know. Maybe your father told you,” Posnanski writes. “Maybe you read about him when you were young.
“The greatest baseball player is the one who lifts you higher and makes you feel exactly like you did when you fell in love with this crazy game in the first place.”
There are 100 players tapped in Posnanski’s book. There is something to love about each one of them. And there is something to love about a book you can put down and read again and again.
The Baseball 100 deserves that kind of love.
Not only a good book, but also a work that will get the juices flowing and the arguments going.
That’s what Joe Posnanski achieves in The Baseball 100 (Avid Reader Press; $40; hardback, 871 pages), a massive book of 100 chapters that ranks baseball’s greatest in descending order from No. 100 (Ichiro) to No. 1 (Willie Mays). There are 88 Hall of Famers in the book and plenty of big names in between, including 13 men who played in the Negro Leagues.
And there’s lots of room for discussion. Besides, any dyed-in-the-wool baseball fan loves to argue.
I’m being honest here: I read every chapter in order and did not skip ahead. I also did not peek to see who was ranked No. 1, although the temptation was great. Some readers will skip around, and that’s their right. It was more satisfying that way because it prevented me from developing any early biases. And in history, that’s crucial.
“The trouble with retelling history,” Posnanski writes, “is that it’s hard to fully capture the times and the stakes and the danger.”
Posnanski does it perfectly, viewing each player from the lens of his contemporaries. He crafts wonderful stories and tells them engagingly. There are no snoozers in this book. And there are some interesting revelations.
Who, for example, thought Napoleon Lajoie was as hot-headed and feisty as Ty Cobb? Lajoie once spiked three fielders in the same inning, and was suspended for throwing a wad of chewing tobacco in an umpire’s face. And yet, Posnanski writes, everyone “adored” Lajoie.
“See, beyond the rough and tumble, Lajoie was just so friendly and fun-loving, he was irresistible,” Posnanski writes.
Writing about Frank Robinson, Posnanski notes, that “Frank Robinson, for me, will always represent what it feels like to be eight years old.”
“The mind teeters between what’s real and what is magic,” he writes.
Those are the kinds of insights that make The Baseball 100 such a pleasure to read.
Posnanski’s writing is punchy, witty with occasional snark, and filled with statistics and personal observations. He has been a sportswriter (at The Kansas City Star), magazine writer (Sports Illustrated and The Athletic), blogger, podcast host and best-selling author. The Baseball 100 oozes with irresistible joy about baseball and memories of the game, and that is due to Posnanski’s curiosity about the players on and off the field.
He is also not afraid to throw in some offbeat pop culture references. The Baseball 100 might be the first time (and correct me if I am wrong, please) that a book about baseball history referenced Romeo Void and its 1982 New Wave hit, “Never Say Never.” If he had also mentioned lead singer Debora Iyall, I probably would have fallen out of my chair.
Posnanski even references Cliff Dapper, who played in only eight major league games but has the highest career batting average for any player with at least 15 plate appearances (.471 in 17 at-bats). He also is the only player ever traded for announcer, as Dapper was traded by the Brooklyn Dodgers to the minor league Atlanta Crackers for Ernie Harwell.
Some of the choices in this book may seem out of left field, but only for where a player is ranked. But the reader soon realizes that ranking is not necessarily Posnanski’s ultimate goal. Sure, he had a framework for deciding who made the top 100: Wins above replacement, peak wins above replacement, how multidimensional a player was, the era in which they played and intangibles (postseason excellence, sportsmanship, leadership, years lost to military service and overall impact on the game). That raises the bar and gives Posnanski’s choices some heft.
But he cannot resist ranking several players by numbers that we associate them with. Joe DiMaggio is ranked No. 56, a nod to his 56-game hitting streak, Grover Cleveland Alexander is No. 26 because of his famous strikeout of Tony Lazzeri in the 1926 World Series. Mariano Rivera is No. 91 because of Psalm 91, the Psalm of Protection. Fitting.
Uniform numbers are the reason for ranking Bob Gibson at No. 45, Jackie Robinson at No. 42, Tom Seaver at No. 41, Greg Maddux at No. 31, Mike Trout at No. 27 and Rickey Henderson at No. 24. Frank Robinson and Mike Schmidt, who both wore No. 20, are tied at No. 20 in Posnanski’s book.
“The point is that I tried to attach a number that fit the player,” Posnanski writes
And Posnanski has a great sense of humor about some of his rankings. Nolan Ryan is No. 50, but after reciting the right-hander’s monumental records (positive and negative), Posnanski confesses that “trying to find a place for Ryan on a list like this is a bit like trying to figure out where the Beatles belong on your list of favorite pastas.”
In other words, relax and let it be.
Some players, like “Shoeless” Joe Jackson are not on the list, and Posnanski left No. 19 blank to remind fans of the 1919 Black Sox.
Pete Rose, meanwhile, is at No. 60.
“You can lose yourself in Pete Rose’s numbers,” Posnanski writes. “You know how Pete Rose played? He played the way old ballplayers imagine they had played.”
Gambling history notwithstanding, you cannot keep Rose out of a book of baseball’s greatest, although writers will keep him out of the Hall of Fame. The same goes for Barry Bonds (No. 3), and Posnanski presents his chapter by breaking it up into passages “for Bonds critics” and “for Bonds fans.”
Controversy has its privileges.
Other players who are most likely persona non grata for Cooperstown include Roger Clemens (No. 13) and Alex Rodriguez (No. 16), who is making his first appearance on the Hall of Fame ballot.
“There’s no point in trying to clean up Alex Rodriguez’s brilliant, infuriating, dazzling, inauthentic, breathtaking, destructive, and altogether messy baseball career,” Posnanski writes. A-Rod was a three-time MVP and “a tabloid back-page tabloid.”
Curt Schilling missed out again in Hall of Fame balloting last year, and he comes in at No. 88 in the book — although Posnanski concedes, “I can’t quite figure him out.”
Schilling is a guy who retweeted a post about a T-shirt advocating the lynching of journalists, but also sent Posnanski a thank you email about his column after the Diamondbacks pitcher won Game 1 of the 2001 World Series.
“Yes, he would pick fights, say offensive things, push the boundaries of taste and compassion. But he was also deeply generous. In his career, he won the Branch Rickey Award, the Roberto Clemente Award, the Lou Gehrig Award, and the Hutch Award, all of them for charity, community service, and displaying admirable character on and off the field, Posnanski writes. “He gave tirelessly of his time to support the military, to support children’s charities, to support people in need.”
The most controversial pick in the book might be Oscar Charleston, at No. 5, but not if you read Jeremy Beers’ excellent 2019 biography, Oscar Charleston: The Life and Legend of Baseball’s Greatest Forgotten Player. He is ranked one spot behind Henry Aaron and one ahead of Ted Williams, and Posnanski admits that he wants this ranking “to make you angry.”
“I want you to feel the fury of this ranking, feel it down deep,” Posnanski writes.
Because Posnanski writes with such joyous flair, it is appropriate that his No. 1 player is Mays. That’s hard to argue, but baseball fans will do that because, well, they love to argue.
“Who was the greatest player of all time? You know. Maybe your father told you,” Posnanski writes. “Maybe you read about him when you were young.
“The greatest baseball player is the one who lifts you higher and makes you feel exactly like you did when you fell in love with this crazy game in the first place.”
There are 100 players tapped in Posnanski’s book. There is something to love about each one of them. And there is something to love about a book you can put down and read again and again.
The Baseball 100 deserves that kind of love.
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