COURTESY OF ELIOT ASINOFN i n t h M a n O u tOU T S I D E R S , O U T C A S T S , A N DE L I O T A S I N O F ’ 4 0By Jeffrey LottS W A R T H M O R E C O L L E G E B U L L E T I NOccasionally, you discover a newauthor, and you just can’t getenough. You read everyth<strong>in</strong>g youcan get your hands on, putt<strong>in</strong>g down onebook and immediately pick<strong>in</strong>g up <strong>the</strong> next.You start see<strong>in</strong>g <strong>in</strong>to a writer’s m<strong>in</strong>d—apart from <strong>the</strong> subjects and characters <strong>in</strong>his books—and you want to know more.I came across <strong>the</strong> books of Eliot As<strong>in</strong>ofabout a year ago. A Florida newspaper ran abrief profile on <strong>the</strong> publication of his latestbook, Off-Season, a novel about a majorleague baseball star who returns to hishometown to f<strong>in</strong>d—and fight—racism andcorruption. As a baseball fan, I wanted toread <strong>the</strong> novel, especially when I learnedthat As<strong>in</strong>of had previously written EightMen Out, a baseball book I had read andadmired some years ago.Accord<strong>in</strong>g to Swarthmore’s computerizedlibrary catalog, a dozen of As<strong>in</strong>of’sbooks were <strong>in</strong> McCabe Library. Who wasthis person with 6 novels and 8 nonfictionworks to his credit? I started read<strong>in</strong>g, and,before long, I knew I wanted to meet him.We talked last summer <strong>in</strong> a dark SixthAvenue bar <strong>in</strong> New York. Tuckedunder his arm, neatly boxed and tied, was<strong>the</strong> orig<strong>in</strong>al manuscript of Eight Men Out,his best-known and most successful book.As he showed this treasure to me, As<strong>in</strong>ofsaid that his next appo<strong>in</strong>tment was with anauctioneer of sports memorabilia whomight buy it. But now <strong>the</strong>re was time for abrandy and soda and a couple hours ofconversation about his life and work.We swapped baseball stories. I knew hewas a New York–born Yankee fan; althoughI’m a Yankee hater from way back, I admired<strong>the</strong> current World Champs from <strong>the</strong>Bronx. Only three of As<strong>in</strong>of’s books areabout baseball, but I knew that play<strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong>sport was how he def<strong>in</strong>ed himself as ayouth.32
“When I grew up, it was <strong>the</strong> game,” hesaid. “Every kid had a glove.” He spent hisearly years play<strong>in</strong>g pickup games <strong>in</strong> NewYork’s Central Park and later capta<strong>in</strong>edboth his high school team on Long Islandand <strong>the</strong> Swarthmore squad. At Swarthmore(where he transferred after a year atWilliams), he encountered George Earnshaw,former Philadelphia Athletics starpitcher, <strong>the</strong>n fire chief <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> Ville.“In his fad<strong>in</strong>g years as a ballplayer,”said As<strong>in</strong>of, “George threw half-speed batt<strong>in</strong>gpractice for <strong>the</strong> College team to keephis arm <strong>in</strong> shape, and on Sundays he wentup to New York to pitch for <strong>the</strong> BrooklynBushwicks for $200 a week. This is a guywho had pitched to Ruth and Gehrig, and IONLY THREE OF ELIOT ASINOF’S (LEFT)14 BOOKS ARE ABOUT BASEBALL, BUT THESPORT PLAYED A CENTRAL ROLE IN HISYOUTH. AFTER SWARTHMORE, HE PLAYED INTHE MINOR LEAGUES FOR TWO YEARS. HE’SIN THE FRONT ROW, SECOND FROM LEFT, INTHE PHOTO (OPPOSITE PAGE) OF THE 1940ST. ALBANS [VT.] GIANTS. ASINOF’S BEST-KNOWN BOOK IS EIGHT MEN OUT, THESTORY OF THE 1919 “BLACK SOX” SCAN-DAL, LATER THE SUBJECT OF A FILM.ELI WALLACH“I PLAYED FOR JOY, NOT FOR AMBITION. THE LONG, BATTERINGBUS RIDES AFTER NIGHT GAMES, THE INADEQUATE LIGHTS,GRUBBY LOCKER ROOMS, SLEAZY HOTEL ROOMS, TERRIBLE FOOD, LOWPAY ... NOTHING BOTHERED US, FOR WE WERE PLAYING BALL.”used to challenge him to throw me his beststuff. I could hit it all right—until he’dsmile and fool me with an off-speed break<strong>in</strong>gpitch.”As<strong>in</strong>of couldn’t get enough baseball andsoon found himself play<strong>in</strong>g twilight ball fora semipro team <strong>in</strong> Chester, Pa., assum<strong>in</strong>g<strong>the</strong> name Johnny Elliott to protect his collegeeligibility. Earnshaw thought <strong>the</strong>young first baseman might have <strong>the</strong> talentto play professionally after college andarranged for him to play summer ball <strong>in</strong> aNew York–New England college leaguesponsored by <strong>the</strong> Big Leagues. There hebecame friends with Mickey Rutner, a solidplayer who would later get a shot at <strong>the</strong>majors—and who became <strong>the</strong> ma<strong>in</strong> character<strong>in</strong> Man on Spikes, As<strong>in</strong>of’s first book(1955).The day he graduated from Swarthmorewith Honors <strong>in</strong> history, As<strong>in</strong>of signed acontract with <strong>the</strong> Philadelphia Phillies. Heplayed two seasons <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> m<strong>in</strong>or leaguesbefore jo<strong>in</strong><strong>in</strong>g <strong>the</strong> Army after <strong>the</strong> start ofWorld War II.“I played for joy, not for ambition,” helater wrote. “The long, batter<strong>in</strong>g bus ridesafter night games, <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>adequate lights,grubby locker rooms, sleazy hotel rooms,terrible food, low pay ... noth<strong>in</strong>g bo<strong>the</strong>redus, for we were play<strong>in</strong>g ball.”Along <strong>the</strong> way, <strong>the</strong>re were cruel, despoticmanagers and anti-Semitic obscenitiesfrom oppos<strong>in</strong>g players and fans. “It was, <strong>in</strong>many ways, a hate-ridden, competitiveworld, but <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> end, <strong>the</strong> game was <strong>the</strong>th<strong>in</strong>g, <strong>the</strong> only th<strong>in</strong>g.... Baseball was playedwith a bat and a glove, not with a mouth.”His former teammate Mickey Rutner hadtaught him how to cope:“‘F— ’em all, big and small,’ Mickeyused to say. This became <strong>the</strong> philosophicalpremise of my existence. Sometimes, youface situations where you are at <strong>the</strong> mercyof forces beyond your control, and if you tryto reach a logical solution, you’re gonna gocrazy. So how do you save your ass? Say,‘F— ’em all, big and small.’ It gives you asense of liberation.”Much of As<strong>in</strong>of’s work is about peoplewho f<strong>in</strong>d <strong>the</strong>mselves <strong>in</strong> situations likethis, who struggle to hold on to <strong>the</strong>ir dignityand power.There’s Laurence Blutcher (People vs.Blutcher, 1970), a young black man whoseentanglements with a brutal and corruptcrim<strong>in</strong>al justice system become a poignant<strong>in</strong>dictment of racism <strong>in</strong> America. There areCraig Badiali and Joan Fox (Craig and Joan,1971), two New Jersey teens who commitsuicide <strong>in</strong> 1969 as a protest aga<strong>in</strong>st <strong>the</strong>Vietnam War—kids whose lives <strong>in</strong> anuptight suburb seem hopeless and beyond<strong>the</strong>ir control. The Fox Is Crazy Too (1976) isa portrait of Garrett Trapnell, a bank robberand con man who manipulates <strong>the</strong> <strong>in</strong>sanitydefense—which As<strong>in</strong>of abhors—to evadeprison.It’s <strong>the</strong> same <strong>in</strong> As<strong>in</strong>of’s fiction. Say ItA<strong>in</strong>’t So, Gordon Littlefield (1977) recasts <strong>the</strong>Black Sox story as a dark but zany plot tothrow <strong>the</strong> Super Bowl. The hero of his latestnovel, Off Season, is a major-leagueballplayer named John Cagle who confrontssome demons from his past and recognizesthat certa<strong>in</strong> responsibilities go with hisfame and fortune.And <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong>re’s “Shoeless” Joe Jackson.Some say that Eight Men Out is <strong>the</strong> bestbaseball book ever written. As every fanknows, eight members of <strong>the</strong> 1919 ChicagoWhite Sox took small-time money frombig-time gamblers to throw that fall’s WorldM A R C H 2 0 0 133