Library's review
Right off the bat I knew I was in good hands with Mr. Breslin, as he recounts the historical ineptitude of the New York Mets in 1962, their first year of existence
I was born and spent the first 8 years of my life on Long Island (or Lawn Guyland, as the local accent renders it), so I came by my Mets fandom honestly, even though they are two years older than I am. I can still rattle off many names of players from the era, from Ed Kranepool (my favorite) to Marv Throneberry to Gil Hodges. They were terrible, but they were ours:
You see, the Mets are losers, just like nearly everybody else in life. This is a team for the cab driver who gets held up and the guy who loses out on a promotion because he didn't maneuver himself to lunch with the boss enough. It is the team for every guy who has to get out of bed in the morning and go to work for short money on a job he does not like. And it is the team for every woman who looks up ten years later and sees her husband eating dinner in a T-shirt and wonders how the hell she ever let this guy talk her into getting married.
In some ways, reading Jimmy Breslin on baseball is a lot like reading Roger Angell, another favorite of mine. Both have a keen eye and a gift for description that gives you a perfect picture. But while the writing of Angell (an editor at The New Yorker) wears a bespoke three-piece suit, Breslin's writing does its best work in shirtsleeves, with the collar unbuttoned and the tail half untucked.
(Congressman) Keating brought with him all the attributes of a great campaigner. An excellent right hand, for one thing. This is a man who can shake hands with a polar bear and the bear is going to let out the first yelp.
(William) Shea has dark hair, blue eyes, and the square jaw of a guy who would know how to punch back.
I don't know if Breslin ever wrote a sequel to Can't Anybody Here Play This Game? to detail the Mets' triumph in the 1969 World Series (just seven seasons removed from the utter haplessness he chronicles here. Imagine!). On the other hand, maybe it's better to quite while you're behind. Losers are a lot more interesting than winners.
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A "hilarious" look back at the worst baseball team in history--the 1962 Mets--by the New York Times-bestselling author (Newark Star-Ledger). Five years after the Dodgers and Giants fled New York for California, the city's National League fans were offered salvation in the shape of the New York Mets: an expansion team who, in the spring of 1962, attempted to play something resembling the sport of baseball. Helmed by the sagacious Casey Stengel and staffed by the league's detritus, the new Mets played 162 games and lost 120 of them, making them statistically the worst team in the sport's modern history. It's possible they were even worse than that. Starring such legends as Marvin Throneberry--a first baseman so inept that his nickname had to be "Marvelous"--the Mets lost with swashbuckling panache. In an era when the fun seemed to have gone out of sports, the Mets came to life in a blaze of delightful, awe-inspiring ineptitude. They may have been losers, but a team this awful deserves to be remembered as legends. This ebook features an illustrated biography of Jimmy Breslin including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author's personal collection.… (more)