George Gmelch’s Inside
Pitch: Life in Professional Baseball was originally published in 2001,
but went out of print. The University of Nebraska picked the title up and
republished it with an additional chapter. It was a fine choice: the book
deserves to be in print because of the unusual perspective that it brings
baseball fans.
That perspective comes from Gmelch having played minor league baseball
for the Tigers in the 1960s and later becoming a professional
anthropologist. As an anthropologist, he knows how to gather and
assimilate data about people, see how their lives and habits fit into
those of the group, track individuals against a social and cultural
background, and draw appropriate conclusions. He is also a very good
academic writer.
Gmelch worked for five years interviewing players at all levels of
baseball, learning about the life of the ballplayer. His research is
compelling because he assumed that he did not know about that life, even
though he had lived it. It turns out he was right. While his playing
experience helped him connect to players, managers, and coaches, and
helped him to know his way around baseball and understand the jargon, the
game had changed greatly in the 25 years that he was away from it. That
makes the book not only an insightful piece of anthropology, but a
fetching personal memoir.
Gmelch traces a baseball player’s life from being scouted in high
school, through the draft, on the long trip through the minor leagues, to
the majors, and through retirement. He does not consider any one
player’s path to be typical, but finds what those many paths have in
common and writes eloquently and insightfully about them. Throughout,
Gmelch brings more than personal observation to bear on his insights,
often citing academic studies to support his claims. In noting that young
pitchers often press when scouts are in the stands, for example, he cites
research that shows that the effects are quantifiable: young pitchers lose
about 3.5 MPH off their fastballs when they know that the radar gun is on
them.
Other observations are more anecdotal, but no less insightful. He
writes about players earning nicknames as they gain acceptance, obsession
with statistics, learning to compete for the first time against other
great players (one player remarked that he had been accustomed to being
the dominant player, and now was playing alongside guys who were
All-Americans in other sports as well!), the elation at being promoted,
the single-mindedness required to succeed, and the shock at being
released. I sensed that when Gmelch portrayed a player’s reaction, he
did so because he had seen that reaction so many times that he considered
it typical.
These observations paint a picture of players being completely absorbed
in the experience of baseball as profession. One might be tempted to
compare a player’s struggle to reach the majors to law or medical school
because of the talent and focus needed to succeed at each. But Gmelch
makes the reader realize that the factors that add up to success are so
numerous and uncontrollable that a baseball player’s life is unlike
anything else. I truly enjoyed Gmelch’s surprise at his realization of
how singular his own experience had been as he returned to the game as an
anthropologist.
This last aspect of the book—rediscovery—is fascinating because
anthropologists don’t usually return to discover their own past by
studying contemporary subjects. Above all, that is what makes the book
worth reading: that it is more than an anthropological look at life inside
baseball; it is a personal memoir whose intimacy adds value and insight to
the study. Some observations are common knowledge, and some of the
material is already dated, but the book is a really fun read, it is quite
well written, and it is refreshingly different from most baseball books in
tone and topic.
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