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team’s co-owners, and, if possible, do the same with the talented but self-destructive Darryl Strawberry, who was trying to clean up his act again and trying to prove he was worthy of another big-league contract.
Karlen travels with the Saints to such outposts as Thunder Bay and Winnipeg, Canada; Fargo, N.D.; Sioux Falls, S.D.; and Madison, Wisconsin, sharing rides and drinks with a host of has-beens or never-wills. He learns a lot about “The Life” of the Saints, many of whom, reminiscent of the movie “Bull Durham,” were more worried about bagging babes than legging out a three-bagger.
Sure, there’s the big ticket stories, like Strawberry’s call-up to the Yankees in July, and former Detroit and Minnesota pitching ace Jack Morris’ attempts at the same.
“Darryl Strawberry bats for all of us, who’ve screwed up, screwed up, screwed up, but still made it off the canvas and made it on their last chance,” says Veeck. “He’s hitting for me, for St. Paul and for the nostalgia of how a baseball hero hitting a home run, albeit a hero with scar tissue, is the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Karlen’s gift is in bringing us the wonderfully eclectic cast of characters who ply their trade at the usually packed Midway Stadium: Don Wardlow, the blind radio color commentator; Dave Stevens, a legless outfielder who didn’t make the first team and went back to his job as a producer with ESPN; Ila Borders, a pitcher who became the first woman to play for the Northern League; and Sister Rosalind Gefre, a nun who provided massages to fans down the third-base line. Then there are the myriad oddities of Saints Baseball: Veeck’s father had an ashtray built into his wooden leg. The Saints even had a pig named Tobias as a mascot.
game. Contestants represented the Twin Cities. One was hero St. Paul and the other played the community’s evil big brother, Minneapolis. He was roundly booed.
“That’s the carnie element that makes the minor leagues so great, where the fans know they’ll get a good price and some bang for their buck,” Bill Murray said of the atmosphere that gave him an escape from fame and fortune.
Karlen, who was sent in as a character assassin, has a minor league epiphany, shunning the big paycheck from Rolling Stone in favor of rekindling an appreciation for baseball.
“Minor league baseball is very seductive. The magic is that this is how you remember baseball from when you were young. And the fact that we’re independent from organized baseball meant we could make our own rules with no interference. There was nobody telling us what to do. (We had) the mutt’s edge.”
Juggling all of the names and places is challenging. At times Karlen is a bit repetitive. Most of his narration of the 1997 season could have been shortened or summarized. It was a little too long at 350-plus pages.
Yet, in spite of all of that, “Slouching Toward Fargo” is fun, a great read for the mutts of the world and anybody who calls themselves a baseball fan.
Our Take:
350-plus pages was a bit much. At times it was tough to keep up with all of the names. Yet “Slouching” was a wonderful journey, and worth the ride into a behind-the-scenes look at independent league baseball, a less well-known avenue of the sport that is overshadowed by the big names and bright lights of the clubs affiliated with MLB.
The book offers a unique glimpse into how the passion to experience the highs of sport drive the careers of players, coaches and owners, most of whom fail in their attempts at a second act in their professional baseball careers.
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Other books by Neal Karlen: Visit his website.
