Yay! I Finished Another Book - "Summer of 68" by Tim Wendel

Ah, I remember it well.  As the secondary title says, 1968 was the season that changed baseball and America forever.

The only trouble is what I remember about the year and what actually winds up in the book are two different things.  As a complete yearbook of that year in baseball, author Tim Wendel misses the boat.  Well, the pitch.

Don't get me wrong.  This is a well-written tome that would naturally should be embraced by any serious baseball fan.  But, I was originally drawn in by the prospects of reading out non-baseball history that year impacted America's pastime.  Unfortunately, those connections I was seeking are only slightly touched upon.  I closed the book, yearning for more.

1968, for me, would be an important summer.  This was the very first season where I was actually a regular monetary contributor to a major league baseball team.  Well, my dad was.  This was my initial year as a Saturday ticket plan holder of the New York Mets.  Barely a teenager and already making the 90-minute subway trek out to Shea Stadium with my neighborhood buddy Leo.  No parent would let a child do that in 2012.  In 1968, even with the world getting more violent, our folks didn't blink. 

Around us, we all began to see the seeds of unrest.   The assassination of Martin Luther King Jr.  The murder of Robert F. Kennedy.  "Those crazy hippies," as my grandmother would call them, creating havoc at the Democratic National Convention.  All of this shows up in Tim Wendel's book, but not to the degree I would have liked.

I remember that, when Bobby Kennedy was making his primary victory speech moments before he had a fatal meeting with Sirhan Sirhan, he referenced Don Drysdale's famous shutout streak which had been extended earlier that night.  And Wendel does touch upon this.  A little.

This was the year of the pitcher for baseball.  Nobody could hit a lick in 1968 and even the Mets' pitching staff was starting to show signs of greatness, easily seen from my perch at Loge, Section 7, Row E in Shea Stadium.  And Wendel does touch upon this.  A little.

This was also the baseball season that began the sports fan's migration to pro football.  Back then, America's pastime was still America's main pastime.  But, in November 1968, the New York Jets and the Oakland Raiders played an infamous nailbiter that NBC cut away from to carry the family movie "Heidi."  I have very clear memories of that Sunday night.  And Wendel does touch upon this.  A little.

So, with all the terrific fodder for a historical retrospective of 1968, just what does Tim Wendel populate his book with?  The Detroit Tigers.  And the Detroit Tigers.  And the Detroit Tigers some more.  Indeed, one could argue that the book's title should be "Tigers of 68."  Hey, they were the big winners of the World Series that year.  But, save for pitcher Bob Gibson, even the Tigers' Fall Classic opponents, the St. Louis Cardinals, get short shrift when it comes to Wendel's composite of the year.  The overemphasis on the Tigers takes what was a very good idea and tilts the book in an uneasy direction.  If you love Denny McLain stories, this is the read for you.  If you're looking for a complete historical look at the 1968 baseball season, well, that book hasn't been written yet.

And leaving out any reference to my first year as a Met ticket plan holder, well, that mistake is just inexcusable.  Hey, Mr. Wendel, I was available for an interview.  You could have called my assistant.

Dinner last night:  Leftover ravioli and meatballs.

Tomorrow?   From New York!