Blockade Billy by Stephen King

From the jacket: “Even the most diehard baseball fans don’t know the true story of William “Blockade Billy” Blakely. He may have been the greatest player the game has ever seen, but today no one remembers his name. He was the first — and only — player to have his existence completely removed from the record books. Even his team is long forgotten, barely a footnote in the game’s history.”

My take: Doesn’t that teaser just make you want to run out and pick up a copy?

The world’s creepiest writer (and unabashed baseball fan) chronicles in this novella the uncensored reminiscences of the former third base coach and equipment manager of the New Jersey Titans, who looks back at the brief but lurid career of their 1957 catcher, William Blakely, better known as “Blockade Billy.”

Due to back-to-back crises involving their first-string and backup catchers during spring training, the team was forced to call up Blakely from the minors. George “Granny” Grantham met him at the ballpark the morning of Opening Day to get him set up and to keep him from running back to the Iowa farm he’d driven in from when he realized the enormity of the task before him. But from his arrival, Blakely exuded a quiet confidence in his ability to play in the Majors.

And he did. He caught perfectly well. He hit safely in 22 straight games. And, as his nickname suggests, he protected the plate like no one’s business. Unafraid of a collision, he put his shoulder down and sent several players who mistakenly thought they could shove past him flying through the air. For roughly a month, Blakely was flying high. Or so everyone thought…

Granny, through King, tells a convincing story of when baseball was still undisputedly America’s favorite pastime and when its players were cut from a coarser cloth.*

Pages: 112

*I wanted to share a couple other things, but they didn’t fit in smoothly up above: 1) Despite having the King name attached, this was not a horror novel. Older elementary school kids would be perfectly fine reading it for content (and it, in fact, reminds me slightly of a couple of books that made the rounds when I was in fourth grade). However, the salty language makes this a better match for older teens or adults, at least those comfortable with locker room talk. 2) This is really more of a long short story, even, than a novella, as the book’s footprint is small and the type is large. It will take the average reader less than an afternoon to read it. I suggest putting it aside for a prolonged rain delay. 3) My favorite part of the book may have been where Granny (and King) call out George Will on his economic interpretation of baseball. Yes, I am a nerd, why did you ask?

Sarah and her brother and I had a fun time last night at the concert. If you like peppy bands with eclectic instrument choices, do try to check Arcade Fire out when they tour near you.

Today, as yesterday’s post said, my only task was getting the old futon frame and mattresses outside so they could go to live with someone new. I checked that task off my to do list by mid-afternoon and was able to spend some time outside reading before my yoga class. After a shower I headed up to Silver Spring to meet John, who shares an appreciation for John Hughes films with me. We watched The Breakfast Club at the AFI and then Metroed back to Columbia Heights for a slice of pizza. Quite a nice way to spend a Saturday.

Tomorrow holds another yoga class, the farmers’ market, and a trip to the garden. I’m also hoping for more outdoor time with my knitting and book — and maybe some time catching up with Susan. Here’s to a lovely triumvirate of great August days!

Rudi is out of town this weekend, preferring to spend his Saturday with a Mountain Mama than with the other residents of the Burrow.

Not to be outdone, I’m heading up to Columbia with Sarah tonight for the Arcade Fire concert. I don’t really know any of their music, but I like the genre of music they fall into. (In other words, I know I’ve heard their music played before, since Rudi owns both their earlier albums, but I couldn’t identify any of their songs or pick them out of a line-up of other musicians.) I suspect it’ll be a good show, and, freed from having to sing along with the songs I know, it should offer song good people-watching opportunities.

The rest of the weekend is as empty as a chalkboard on the last day of school.

It’s not entirely true. I do need to move the old futon out to the street so someone else in need of sleeping materials can take it home. We thought it more likely to find a new owner if it was dry, rather than putting it out ahead of yesterday’s predicted downpours.

But I don’t figure that’ll take a large part of my Saturday. How else shall I entertain myself? I have new books from the library. I have a growing pile of half-finished knitting projects that need attention. The weather looks nice — mid- to upper-80s and sunny, so some gardening time is definitely in order.

Leave me some recommendations in the comments.

Hey, it’s Thursday again! How’d that happen? I suppose I’ve been busy with construction projects and celebrating the downfall of Prop 8 and the confirmation of Elena Kagan… Anyway, here are three beautiful things from my past week:

1. I work late and then catch the bus home. I get off two stops early so I can walk through Dupont Circle, which is replete with summer night life. A guitarist perches on a stool. Kids play with hula hoops. People are walking and talking and just generally enjoying all that a muggy August night can be.

2. The bed frame takes two late nights of sweating, bickering, and fidgeting with tools and geometry to come together. But the first night’s sleep on it suggests it will be a vast improvement over both our old futon and the mattress plunked on top of the futon, which has been our MO for the last two weeks.

3. Much like last Thursday, a wave of thunderstorms roll through this afternoon and evening. Thunder and lightning are followed by torrents of rain and blustery winds to rival a summer nor’easter back home. But the front shift brings in temperatures that are easily twenty degrees cooler, making the entire city sigh in relief.

How about you? What’s been beautiful in your world?

This week’s Booking through Thursday asks:

What is the first book you remember reading? What about the first that made you really love reading?

Is it wrong that I don’t know the answer to these questions? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know how to read, although my grandmother assures me that one winter she and my grandfather left for Florida with me not knowing how to read and came back two or so months later and I did. Plus, obviously I didn’t just come out of the womb with a book in my hand, although if I had it most certainly would have explained the wait I caused my parents: “Just a few more minutes. I’ll be born when I finish this chapter!”

I’d like to say my first book could have been one by Richard Scarry, although those probably came later with my brother. Certainly I was quite taken with Scarry’s Please and Thank You Book when I was five or so and still cite it as a favorite. We had Little Golden Books, so it could have been one of those. Or maybe An Invitation to the Butterfly Ball? — I recall its beautiful pictures. That scratch-and-sniff Winnie the Pooh book? A Babar story? Curious George? Mum? Dad? Any recollection?

I do recall being in first grade and being quite smitten by Snow White and Rose Red in my elementary school library. It was on the shelf by the door where the Beatrix Potter books were kept and was roughly the same size. That was probably the first book I checked out on several separate occasions (and, to this day, one of the few) just because I liked the story so much.

And I know that I really felt that my brother ought to get started on his reading while he was still quite young. The physically smallest book we owned was a copy of Rosemary Wells’ Noisy Nora, and I routinely would interrupt Josh’s playing to try and walk him through the words on the pages. It was not a success and probably helped put him off reading for many years.

(In retrospect, I probably would have been better off with Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things that Go instead of a book about a girl mouse who found her baby brother annoying. (In all fairness, she found her older sister a pain, too.))

How about you? What books helped give you your first foray into reading? Share with us in the comments…

Yesterday I was responsible and returned some things to my local library before I owed them money. Yes, they were confused, too.

I was hoping to pick up a book I’d just heard about over the weekend and that the website suggested could be found at my local branch, but it was nowhere to be found. Obviously I couldn’t harass each patron to demand that they hand over the novel I wanted, so instead I picked up some other, more spontaneous choices:

• Blockade Billy by Stephen King — A baseball novella that will be, I believe, my first King ever. (God, I hope it’s not too scary!)
• Heat by Mike Lupica — I didn’t have any of the other kids’ books on my to-be-read list written down but remembered there was a sports book on it. As it turns out, this isn’t it, but I’m still looking forward to reading this baseball book from a Connecticut writer.
• Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson — This novel has been on my radar since my friend Erik wrote me about it back, oh, probably last winter. I’m eager to start it. Maybe this weekend…
• The Last Olympian by Percy Jackson — I was torn. I thought about re-reading the first four novels in this series before picking up the final one, but then I remembered this was the first time I’d seen Book 5 at the library since it came out last year and quickly added it to my pile.

I still have a few other books out from an earlier library jaunt, so expect a few more book reports as this week goes on.