Kind of amusing to see how opinionated and undiplomatic James could be in his annual Statistical Abstracts, when he was writing for more of an "insider" audience. These mostly brief asides and mini-essays are why James went into longer form narrative books such as his Hall of Fame, book and the Historical Abstracts. The (mostly) good writing and (mostly) good sense make it obvious why he had to make that transition. But there is something unsatisfying in the brevity of most of these passages. And James's thinking gets better--more judicious & less judgmental--when he knows he's speaking to a broader audience. But it sure beats the hell out of fishing through all those annual abstracts for the bits of good baseball writing! ( )

In 1989 this was certainly a Five Star book. It’s obviously dated now in regards to players, team dynamics, and so forth to the degree that it probably ranks a three at best for those that keep up with the sport. And, I suppose, it garners a zero for those who don’t. As I’m chronically behind the times (I got verbally accosted just the other night for admitting that I’ve never seen Blade Runner, as “ALL architect’s love Blade Runner!” apparently…) I see no reason to evaluate this based on contemporary relevance. For my part, James’s essays cover a span of time that saw me transition from a MLB city kid sorting through thousands of baseball cards to an aloof, uninterested teen living in a rural outpost that Baseball forgot (or one that forgot baseball existed as the case may be). So this was something of a long overdue exercise in catching up to 1990.

That being said, there’s much that still must be poignant to the profession as it exists today. His account of arbitration structure and intent, the impossible situation with Minor League baseball organizations and their host cities/towns - the 1990’s surge in fun and cutesy new stadiums notwithstanding – and, generally, the value and limitations of statistics in telling a/the story. As something of a (mostly) statistic-free synopsis to his once annual Baseball Abstract, this is a “Best Of” encyclopedia that probably wasn’t read cover-to-cover much even back in the day. But, as I seem to have acquired a viral strain of procrastination in relation to some other stuff I should be reading, I decided to stick with it after an introductory reading about how the Houston Astros are an “acquired taste” like Russian Film, Jazz, modern sculpture, and fat women.

The pieces oscillate between hilarious (Enos Cabell and the “Dreadful Women” occupying a 1985 World Series bleacher seat who had a voice like a “clarinet with a broken reed, set to the volume of an air horn”) to the relatively dull or obscure (Joe Orsulak?). His previous annual Abstracts were apparently jam-packed with his statistical “sabermetrics” investigating – beyond presumably general statistical developments – curiosities such as whether a player who attended at least one year of junior college will statistically hit more doubles in August on artificial turf against aging left-handers than those who were drafted right out of High School. Obviously I made that one up but not by much. In lieu of traditional footnotes, his concluding chapter covers some of the greatest hits of his (and others’) Myth Busters-like pursuits of putting dusty old manager truisms to the statistical test. It’s brief, interesting, and thankfully devoid of all the numbers.

The other parts are well written, clever-yet-serious, and often entertaining. This clearly isn’t for everyone; I suppose one would have to not hate baseball to enjoy this. But really, I’m no serious baseball fanatic. I’m an out-of-town-Astros-fan type of fan. This means I get around to logging into any given game online during the second inning and then give up around the fourth when It’s clear that the team itself has given up. Definitely an acquired taste. The author has worked for my local baseball organization for years and was likely a significant contributor to the team’s 2004 and 2007 World Series championships...or so I read the other day in book about election reform. That’s the type of baseball aficionado I am. If a two-decade dated Bill James can engage the attention of a casual half-asser such as myself, then this must be a great read. ( )

A book for me: Bill James the master sabrematician collects together some of his best writings without all the confusing statistical numbers. He really is an excellent and thoughtful writer musing on the game of baseball and many tangents such as the value of small cities like Kansas City. I particularly like his personal history of major league baseball in Kansas City right up to the Royals championship in 1985. It was a lot of fun reading about players and teams in the 70’s and 80’s and reliving some names of the time, and learning a lot I never really paid attention to since I was focused on the Mets if I paid attention to anything in baseball at the time. The man has some great original ideas, and I really respect them and kind of idealistically that more of his ilk could have some influence on the course of professional baseball. I really liked his idea of breaking up the farm system and allowing hundred of teams to compete to the level their cities will support in real games, playing for real championships. If only.

“If taken literally, everything in life is an acquired taste with the exception of a few basic staples like salt, sugar, sex and slapstick comedy, which we all share an enjoyment of…” (p. 38) He then goes on to compare the Houston Astros to jazz music.

“Of course, Strawberry and Gooden are always getting into some trouble, while Whitey and Mickey were choir boys. I’d like to think that in thirty years we will look back on this time remember them fondly, warts and all but with the warts not put under a magnifying glass and blown up as big as a house. I would hope that Dwight and Darryl would grow old and respectable and write books full of wild stories about the things that happened to them when they were young rogues and the world by the tail. Keith Hernandez will play Phil Rizzuto (the classy veteran, looking on with a bemused expression). Yogi appears to be as yet uncast, but we’re looking carefully at Mookie.” -1988 (p. 114)

“The Astros’ second baseman, using the term loosely, is Art Howe. Last year Howe hit extremely well, and pivoted on the double play as well as Bobby Doerr. Doerr was one of the greatest pivot men ever, but is now sixty-one years old, and he gave up the game some years ago, when he began to pivot like Art Howe…” 1979 (p. 125)

“Bad sabermetrics attempts to end the discussion by saying that I have studied the issue and this is the answer. Good sabermetrics attempts to contribute to the discussion in such a way as to enable it to move forward on a ground of shared understanding.” (p. 398) ( )