When I think of baseball-

            I think of learning to love words devouring The Sporting News. 

Back when it looked like a baseball paper, smelled like a baseball

paper, and read like a baseball paper. Hours spent eying dispatches

from exotic places like Toledo, Minneapolis, Durham, Wichita, and

Shreveport. Taking to heart the exploits of the super heroes of the

Texas, Carolina, and Sally Leagues.   Each seemed to exist in a

magical kingdom far, far away from Nebraska. Chicago or Los

Angeles or San Francisco? Places almost impossible for a ten year

old to comprehend. 

 

            I contemplate my fixation with numbers beginning in the most

unlikely of sources, the Kessler Baseball Guide.  Only 30 or so

pages, a distilled version of contemporary baseball almanacs packed

with information the ten year old boy I used to be found unforgettable

and irresistible.  Need the seating of Crosley Field in Cincinnati?

There.  Same with the dimensions of Fenway Park and Yankee

Stadium.  The batting average of Luis Aparicio of the White Sox, or

Dodger Don Drysdale’s win-loss record were easily found. Not once

did I ever think of whiskey perusing this manual, yet it most definitely

formed the foundation of my life long love of numbers, unquestionably

an addiction.  For 38 years I have earned a living from numbers, for

over 50 their realness has fascinated me.   

~ by Ron Meyer on June 25, 2008.