The Best American Sports Writing 2002 (The Best American Series) - Softcover

Rick Reilly; Glenn Stout

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0618086285 ISBN 13: 9780618086283

Publisher: Mariner Books, 2002

Synopsis

Since its inception in 1915, the Best American series has become the premier annual showcase for the country's finest short fiction and nonfiction. For each volume, a series editor reads pieces from hundreds of periodicals, then selects between fifty and a hundred outstanding works. That selection is pared down to the twenty or so very best pieces by a guest editor who is widely recognized as a leading writer in his or her field. This unique system has helped make the Best American series the most respected -- and most popular -- of its kind.
Each year, The Best American Sports Writing, well established as the premier sports anthology, offers a winning combination of fascinating topics and top-notch writers. This year, Sports Illustrated's Rick Reilly assembles an all-star lineup sure to captivate fans of sports and great writing. From baseball to bullfighting, from horse racing to school-bus racing, this collection has something for everyone. Reilly has chosen columnists and feature writers, household names and talented unknowns, and most importantly, pieces that delve behind the statistics, examining the people and emotions that make the game.

About this title

About the Author:

GLENN STOUT is a freelance writer, author, and editorial consultant and has served as series editor of The Best American Sports Writing since its inception. He is the author of Young Woman and the Sea and Fenway 1912, and has collaborated with Richard Johnson on Red Sox Century, Yankees Century, The Cubs and The Dodgers. Stout has lived in and around Boston for 20 years, and currently lives in Vermont. 
 

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Foreword

The readers of this book are a unique constituency. For many, I suspect that
The Best American Sports Writing makes a more or less regular appearance
in their hands sometime between Labor Day and Christmas. It is something
of a no-brainer for certain fans of sports and writing, an instant gift happily
received. The annual migration of this book from bookstore to bookshelf can
be calculated almost to the day, as if inspired by discreet and distant urgings
buried deep in the DNA, a kind of seasonal response to diminishing light.
This kind of anticipation, like waiting for the first good snow,
creates an exacting level of expectation in many readers. Over time they
have developed a great sense of ownership over the final product, as well they
should. After all, books cease to belong to the author — or in this case, the
editors — as soon as readers turn to the first page. Their experience is all
that matters, and when they start reading, the book becomes more theirs
than its creators".
Many writers, particularly those in daily journalism, know exactly
what I mean. The Los Angeles Times"s Bill Plaschke, whose story "Her Blue
Haven" leads off this collection, makes use of a similar situation as the basis
for his story; regular readers of our work feel they have a stake in each and
every word. They take us seriously, even when we don"t always take
ourselves that way.
That doesn"t mean that the readers of the books in this series are
so slavishly devoted that they are above criticism. Quite the opposite. The
readers of this series who contact me are rarely shy about expressing
themselves. My name on the book jacket gives them that right. Over the
years they have made it clear to me that although they enjoy the fluctuations
of the menu each year, at the end of the meal they want to feel satisfyingly
full. A book like this requires the investment of several hours of readers" time,
and it is their right to feel they have used that time well.
Fortunately, most do, at least among those who contact me. Of
those who do complain, most are concerned with a kind of scorekeeping, as
in, "There were too many newspaper stories," or not enough newspaper
stories, or too much football, or not enough hockey. Or too many famous
writers, columns, men, women, curse words, adjectives, consonants, etc.,
etc., etc. — or not enough of those same items. One reader even calculated
the annual cost per page of his purchase since the beginning of the series.
For the record, we are holding our own against inflation.
I tend to measure how well I do my job by the way these
complaints inevitably even out over the year. Most couch their criticism
between compliments anyway, and when readers argue from the opposite
sides of the same fence, I figure I must be doing something right.
Each year I invite readers to take part in this series, to send me
stories they think might merit inclusion in the book. And they do, often with
an eye at least as accurate and discerning as my own. For some reason,
authors remain somewhat reticent about submitting their own material, and
despite my repeated efforts, some editors I contact each year asking for
submissions, particularly in the newspaper field, don"t always do so.
Fortunately, the readers take up the slack. Several sent me
Plaschke"s story, and there is at least one other story that made its way into
this volume that I would not have seen had a reader not clipped it, stuck it in
an envelope, and sent it off to me. So keep it up.
In addition to those complaints and suggestions, a few missives
stand out each year for one reason or another. One reader writes me each
and every year asking when the book will be published and where he can find
it. And every year I write back and say, "September," and, "Your local
bookstore." I assume he is successful. He never asks where to find last
year"s edition.
Last September 17 I received an e-mail from a reader in New York
City. In that strange time, in the wake of the 9/11 carnage, I think many of us
everywhere found it difficult to focus and concentrate, particularly on
something made so instantly trivial as sports. I felt this myself, for I was
working on another project and was forced to write or consider the
words "New York" over and over again. For weeks the name of that city felt
and sounded different, as if heard for the first time and describing a brand-
new place, and each time it caused a momentary and uncomfortable pause
from which there seemed no escape. At the same time I was rapidly
inundated by sports reportage from all over the country that touched on the
horror of that day and found myself lost in the mind-numbing litany of tragedy
piled upon tragedy. While I was fortunate in that everyone I loved and cared
about in the city survived, still, the buildings had fallen and their shadows
never seemed to lift.
And then I received this:

. . . As I struggled to cope with what was going on around me, I kept looking
for a way to "take a break" — living in NYC has made it very difficult to do
this — everything from the smoke in your hair to the constant wail of sirens,
to the naked skyline is an ever-present reminder. I tried to read, watch
movies, talk with friends about other stuff, but nothing worked. . . . I sat
around unable to think or feel. And then on Wednesday afternoon I shuffled
over to my bookshelf, one last attempt to find some satisfying distraction. As
I scanned the shelves a large black and gold volume popped out at me —
The Best American Sports Writing of the Century . . . the subject matter
interesting but removed from reality, the quality of writing poignant but not too
deep. . . . I found some solace in the stories, in the words. . . .

And so did I, in his. I don"t repeat this story because it was sent
to me, but because I believe it was directed to the writers of each and every
volume in this series. It is easy for the authors who commit themselves to
these and other pages each day and year of their lives to grow cynical, to feel
that too many words fall still and silent and stupid, unheard, immaterial, and
insignificant. We work, after all, in what others occasionally deride as "the
toy department." But I think that this e-mail provides the best and only
justification for what any of us do. Words can win awards and sometimes
inspire change, they can cause us to laugh and cry or to fall asleep or turn
the page. But they can also matter and mean more, perhaps briefly, in the
hands of those we serve. None of us can tell precisely why or when that will
be, apart from those brief moments when the reader tells us. And as any
writer can tell you, perhaps the most important part of what we do is learning
to listen well. So to the readers of this book, and the writers who are
responsible for it each year, thank you.

My task each year is simple. I read as much as possible in hundreds of
sports and general interest publications in search of work that I feel might
merit inclusion in this book. I try to avoid missing anything, so each year I
contact the editors and sports editors of hundreds of magazines, asking for
either submissions or complimentary subscriptions. I also contact sports
editors of a like number of newspapers and ask them to submit material.
But as I indicated earlier, I also welcome submissions from
interested readers and writers. And writers, hear this: you are more than
welcome to submit your own material. My only concern is for the final
product. I don"t much care how material comes to me, only that I see it in the
first place.
Just after the first of the year I forward those stories that I find
myself wanting to read again and again — usually about seventy-five — to
our guest editor, who makes the final selection. That task fell this year to the
estimable Rick Reilly, who supplemented my picks with some of his own.
As you read this, I am several knees deep in stories under
consideration for The Best American Sports Writing 2003 and always
welcome more. Each nonfiction story must have been published in 2002 in a
newspaper, magazine, or online publication in either the United States or
Canada, and it must be column-length or longer. Reprints are not eligible. All
submissions must be received by me by February 1, 2003.
All submissions must include the name of the author, the date of
publication, and the publication name and address. Photocopies, tear
sheets, or clean copies are fine — reductions to 8½-by-11 are best.
Newspaper stories should be mounted on paper, if possible, since loose clips
stuffed in envelopes often suffer in transit. Owing to the volume of material I
receive, no submissions will be either returned or acknowledged. Neither is it
appropriate for me to make any comments about any individual submission.
Publications that want to make absolutely certain that I see their
material are advised to send a complimentary subscription to the following
address. This is not, and never has been, a requirement, but with a
subscription I can survey material over the course of the year rather than in a
deluge each January.
Submissions and subscriptions should be sent to this precise
address:

Glenn Stout
Series Editor
The Best American Sports Writing
PO Box 381
Uxbridge, MA 01569

I may also be contacted by e-mail at BASWeditor@cs.com, but please note
that no submissions will be accepted electronically, either pasted in or as an
attachment.
Earlier editions of this book can be ordered through most book
dealers or online sources. An index of stories through the year 2000 is
available on glennstout.net. Thanks again to Eamon Dolan and Emily Little of
Houghton Mifflin for their trust and help each year, and to Rick Reilly for his
active involvement. Siobhan and Saorla again managed to hold their own
against the endless onslaught of paper. Readers Scott Chait and Ed Page,
among others, made significant contributions to this volume as well. And
thanks again to the writers for allowing me to shape their book.

Glenn Stout
Introduction

The only job I"ve been able to hold on to is sports writing. I"ve flopped at
everything else. I"ve been fired more than ceramic pottery and Billy Martin put
together.
I was fired from my first job at fourteen. Lady didn"t like the way I
chewed my gum. Got fired from a rental-equipment place at sixteen. Thought
the boss said, "Fill these jackhammers with fifteen parts oil, one part gas,"
but it turns out it was the other way around. Got fired from a gas station at
eighteen. Left a guy"s oil cap off and it fell down into his fan belt and the
station had to pay $435 to fix it for him. Got fired as a bank teller at nineteen.
Lost $500 one day. Still don"t know where it went.
But knock on wood, sports writing hasn"t 86"ed me yet. Started
doing it for a living at twenty. That"s twenty-five years ago now. If there is ever
a nuclear winter and sports writing is no longer needed, I"m toast.
I"m not saying I"m good, but I think I know what good is. Good is
the stuff we"ve chosen for this book. Good is not easy. College kids write me
all the time asking how to make their writing better. I always hate answering
that letter. You send them tips and you come off like a know-it-all. You ignore
it and you come off like a jerk.
But editing this book has made me think about it. Two chewed
chair legs and three pots of coffee later, I finally came up with ten simple
strategies that I know will work no matter the subject, length, or deadline.
And so, I present now, for your shredding pleasure . . . the Reilly Rules.

1. Never Write a Sentence You"ve Already Read.
That was said by Oscar Wilde, but it"s still the best way to make words jump
off the page and squirt grapefruit juice in the reader"s face. Why write: "He
beat the crap out of the guy" when it"s so much more fun to write: "He turned
the guy into six feet of lumps"?
You ever notice the way cops talk on the eleven o"clock news? On
TV, the cop will go all Dragnet on you: "We apprehended the alleged suspect
after a prolonged pursuit." But then you hear the same cop down at Dunkin"
Donuts and he"s going, "Man, we chased this fruitcake everywhere! Guy
thought he was Secretariat!"
The best writing sounds like that. It sounds like a guy talking to
you over a fence. The Los Angeles Times"s Jim Murray, the greatest
sportswriter who ever lived, wrote like that. Murray put simple words in an
order nobody had seen before.
Murray once wrote in the Los Angeles Times that John Wooden
was "as square as a pan of cornbread." Boog Powell was "just slightly larger
than the Istanbul Hilton." USC"s sweep left was "as unstoppable as a
woman"s tears." And, "Willie Mays" glove is the place where triples go to die."
Steve Rushin of Sports Illustrated writes like that. He would sell
his sister to the Iraqis before he"d write a boring sentence. In his piece "Cold
Comfort," he describes what it felt like the moment the radio told him his
elementary school was closed on account of too much snow.
"Instantly, it"s Mardi Gras and V-E Day and the Lindbergh parade
all in one, and the flakes falling outside look like ticker tape."
Guy makes me sprain my grin.
Blackie Sherrod of the Dallas Morning News once described rogue
quarterback Bobby Layne"s arrest for drunk driving this way:
"Layne . . . stopped off to indulge in some heavy research with
scholarly friends. Late that evening, Bobby was driving to his hotel,
innocently enough, when he was sideswiped by several empty cars lurking at
curbside."
Ever read that before?

2. Get "Em in the Tent.
Murray used to say, "They"ll never see the circus if you can"t get "em in the
tent." Translated: Without a good lead, they"ll never appreciate your death-
defying twinkle-toe transition in the third paragraph. Maybe that"s why he
once led off a column on the safety hazards at the Indianapolis 500
with: "Gentlemen, start your coffins!"
Have you ever been zapping around on the remote, going from one
show to the next? And then something comes on that you just can"t zap
because you have to know what"s going to happen next? That"s what a great
lead does. In this fragmented world, readers are looking for the tiniest excuse
to turn the page, put you down, and get out of their chair. There"s no city
ordinance that says they have to read you.
So you have to make it impossible for them not to go on to the
second graph. Take, for instance, Tom Scocca"s boxing lead from "Blood
Sport."
"Idly, last week, I watched Beethavean Scottland get beaten into a
coma."
Or Outside"s Steve Friedman"s lead from ""It"s Gonna Suck to Be
You"":
"The first time he tried it, the vomiting started after sixty-seven
miles. . . ."
How are you not going to keep reading?

3. Say What You Think.
Wholesale tin-eared butchery sports writing goes like this:
"Monolith Tech and Conglomerate University waged a real war on
Saturday.
""That was a real war out there," said Monolith head coach Bruiser
Smith."
Bad sportswriters have this thing about pens and pads. They have
to use them — to exhaustion. So if they take the time to talk to a coach or a
p...

About this edition

• Publisher: Mariner Books
• Publication date: 2002
• ISBN 10: 0618086285
• ISBN 13: 9780618086283
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 320