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A Game of Inches

By Dr. John D. Eigenauer
June 30, 2006

I thought seriously about starting and ending my review of Peter Morris’ A Game of Inches: The Stories Behind the Innovations that Shaped Baseball with two words: absolutely fantastic. Then I thought about justifying my conclusion by answering the question, “What makes a baseball book great?”

First, good baseball books avoid those things that make bad baseball books. Bad baseball books are characterized by inaccurate statements, unsubstantiated generalities, poor prose style, too much reliance on quotes, overuse of play-by-play, gratuitous statistics, inadequate research (different from inaccurate statements), and lack of purpose to details. Second, good baseball books are compelling—they make you want to read the next story. Even hard core statistical books are often anecdotal, and we baseball fans relish a good yarn. (We’re also skeptical of old timers telling remarkable stories that don’t jibe with Retrosheet). Third, they tie things together by showing the reader how decisions, circumstances, statistics, history, and chance intersect to create a single innovation, a World’s Championship, or something in between. Finally, they tell you something new. We have enough Babe Ruth biographies to fill a small library—we want something that will impress our fantasy opponents at the draft. Morris’ A Game of Inches has it all: research, anecdotes, novelty, critique, interpretation, history, and humor.

A Game of Inches is an encyclopedic story of innovation in baseball. Professional researcher Peter Morris documents every detail of baseball innovations from rules to equipment and from umpires to intentional walks. Who threw the first brushback pitch? That is a hard question whose answer is blurred by the evolution of overhand pitching, changing rules that originally did not allow batters a base after being hit, and increasing competitiveness in the early game. Morris answers the question elegantly, weaving early newspaper accounts with modern scholarship and sensible conclusions.

The result is a delightful read that stands alone like an encyclopedia entry, yet blends into the larger narrative about pitching. This pattern of condensed articles fitting together to form a larger theme is sustained throughout Morris’ book. For this reason the book can be used as a reference work, or can be read in its entirety as the history of innovation in baseball.

Because the book is about innovation in baseball, its focus is largely upon the nineteenth century game. Not everyone finds stories about Tony Mullane and writing by Henry Chadwick to be compelling—be forewarned, there is no mention of Derek Jeter and no arguments about the value of OPS in this book. It is history at its finest without an ounce of fluff. You may like that, hate that, or find that challenging; but you cannot deny that this book will make baseball historians salivate and leave the casual fan wanting to know more.

Mullane Tony Mullane won 30 or more games five straight years and finished with 284 victories.

The book is divided into large sections on batting, pitching, fielding, base running, managerial strategy, coaches, umpires, equipment, uniforms, skullduggery, timeouts, and an introductory section about “things we take for granted.” If by chance you are captivated by fielding, you will find entries on everything from catching from a crouch to calling for fly balls. If you like managing, you will learn about everything from pinch hitters to weekend starters. There is no end to the historical detail, the delightful anecdotes, and the clear explanations of how things got started and why they developed as they did.

In the process of telling great stories, Morris clears up numerous baseball myths. Candy Cummings probably didn’t “invent” the curveball, Johnny Bench wasn’t the first to catch with one hand, Ty Cobb wasn’t the first to sharpen his spikes, and we have no good idea who really invented the spitball. Morris debunks a number of convenient and dubious claims to firsts by finding earlier references, often expanding on the story to show how stories got condensed into simplified versions over time.

This approach is the book’s greatest strength. While anecdotes enliven A Game of Inches, its corrections of historical inaccuracies provide its foundation. Morris consistently traces innovations to their roots and (gently) dispels numerous commonplaces that we all assumed were true. I wrote in an earlier review that the authors of Baseball Between the Numbers captured my attention through their revisionist slant on baseball strategy; Morris does the same with baseball history. He’s not out to set the record straight, but his careful research and insightful conclusions lead him to do so repeatedly.

You will be sad when you finish this book, but take heart—it is only the first volume. The second volume, subtitled The Game Behind The Scenes, is due out soon and promises to be equally compelling, important, and informative.

John Eigenauer can be contacted at jeigenauer@yahoo.com. A complete list of his reviews and more about him can be found here.