Blurb
“As you would have the right to expect from any book about a baseball-playing spy narrated by the all-time record holder for most passed balls in a single game, The Bridgeport Hammer is a delight. Jonathan Weeks’ tale of baseball during wartime lovingly gets all the details of the old ballgame right, and does so while spiriting the reader through a fascinating tale of journeymen, espionage, and one unforgettably goofy pitch. Add “the bumpus” of the mysterious rookie Emmett Drexler to the great notions in baseball lore, and add The Bridgeport Hammer to your shelf of baseball classics.” - Josh Wilker, author of Cardboard Gods
Excerpt
I headed down the runway to the locker room below, which was dimly lit and smelled of stale sweat. It didn’t take me long to locate the lush. He was sitting on a bench in the corner amidst a pile of empty beer bottles. I was instantly torn between sympathy and disgust. Bradley had been one of the premier sluggers of the 1930s. He had graced the covers of magazines, appeared on billboards and had even been to the White House for dinner. Now he was little more than a street bum. Worse yet, he seemed to be hurrying his own decline, as if he just wanted his career to be over with. When I thought of all the guys who would never find success in the majors despite years of hard work, I couldn’t help feeling a little resentful of him.
“Jesus, Huck, you couldn’t wait until after the game?”
I tried not to sound bitter, but doubt I pulled it off. Bradley sat up on the bench all glassy-eyed.
“What’s the difference? They’re not gonna play me anyway.”
“Wrong,” I told him. “Hell just froze over. Two on and two out in the ninth. Skip wants you to hit.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to. Especially tonight. Everyone is counting on you.”
“Who cares? You think I don’t know what people say about me? A few years ago, I was sitting on top of the world. Now I’m a joke. Everyone loves you when you’re knocking ‘em outta the park. When you’re not, you’re just a sorry sack-a-shit.”
I felt for him. I really did. Every ballplayer knows there will come a time when he just can’t cut it anymore. But there were far more graceful ways to go out than the path Bradley had chosen.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I scolded him. “It’s time to spit in the face of anyone who ever doubted you. You know as well as I do that you deserve to be in a better place right now. Show ‘em that they’re wrong about you. Prove it to yourself.”
He stared at me for a long moment with a blank expression. I wasn’t sure if I had reached him. You could hear the fans above clamoring for something to happen. Finally, Bradley climbed to his feet and shuffled past me toward the runway. He patted me once on the shoulder as he did.
Guest Post
Franklin Delano Roosevelt: A Genuine Baseball Fan
In my recently released novel, The Bridgeport Hammer, Nazi agents are plotting to kill President Roosevelt at the 1942 All-Star Game. Though the scenario is a product of my somewhat twisted imagination, FDR’s appreciation of the game is not. Of all the American presidents, Mr. Roosevelt was among baseball’s biggest advocates.
After the attack on Pearl Harbor, Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis questioned whether or not the game should continue with the U.S. officially embroiled in the war. He wrote a letter to Franklin Roosevelt seeking advice. In his famous reply, the President included the following words: “I honestly feel that it would be best for the country to keep baseball going…Baseball provides a recreation which does not last over two hours or two hours and a half, which can be got for little cost.” He then suggested that more games take place at night so that day shift workers toiling for the war cause could attend.
Roosevelt had established himself as a true fan of the sport many years earlier. Before moving on to Harvard University, he spent his formative years at a private Episcopal boarding school in Groton, Massachusetts. He served as manager of the school’s baseball team (known as the “Grotons”). He would later set a number of precedents as Commander-In-Chief.
FDR attended eleven baseball games during his extensive term in office. He threw out more ceremonial first pitches than any President in history. He was also the first President to attend an All-Star Game (in 1937). In addition to his All-Star appearance, he was among the crowd at two World Series games. In ’33, he watched the Senators defeat the Giants in game 3. Three Octobers later, he witnessed an 18-4 Yankee blowout over the Giants. This was the only game he attended outside of Washington and it must have pleased him greatly. He once told a reporter: “I get a kick out of the biggest score—a game in which the hitters pole the ball into the far corners of the field, the outfielders scramble and the men run the bases.”
Roosevelt’s enthusiasm at the ballpark was well documented. In 1936, a writer from Baseball Magazine commented: “Roosevelt enjoys himself at ball games as much as a kid on Christmas morning. Once in his field box, the present president believes again that there is a Santa Claus. He gets right into the spirit of the game, munches peanuts, applauds good plays and chuckles over bad ones.” That same year, Roosevelt summed up his appreciation of the game with the following words: “Baseball has been called the national pastime because it stands for the fair play, clean living and good sportsmanship which are our national heritage. That is why it has such a warm place in our hearts.”
FDR considered himself a “nuisance” at the ballpark and referred to himself as such in a conversation with Senators’ owner Clark Griffith. Though it was once believed that the President’s paralysis was caused by polio, some experts today speculate that he may have been stricken by a disorder known as Guillain-Barre syndrome, which destroys neurons related to body movement. Whatever the cause, the President required aides to assist him in ambulating during public appearances. “If I didn’t have to hobble up those steps in front of all those people, I’d be out at the ballpark every day,” he once said.
In the wake Japan’s attack on the U.S. in 1941, a wave of patriotism spread throughout the nation, prompting many thousands of men to sign up for the armed forces. This included several prominent ballplayers, among them future Hall of Famers Hank Greenberg and Bob Feller. Between the draft and voluntary enlistment, the directory of active all-stars began to rapidly dwindle. The New York Yankees were among the hardest hit clubs, losing a quintet of Cooperstown greats to military duty, including Bill Dickey, Phil Rizzuto and Joe DiMaggio. By the time the war was over, more than five-hundred players had served.
At the onset of WWII, baseball was America’s most popular sport, having survived a dramatic attendance collapse during the Depression years. By 1941, the turnstiles were back in motion. Though the quality of play was considerably lower due to the absence of so many high profile players, attendance was not seriously affected. After a slight drop in ‘42/’43, the number of paying customers soared to an all-time high of over ten million in 1945.
About the Author
Weeks spent thirty-eight years in the Capital District region of New York State. He obtained a degree in psychology from SUNY Albany. In 2004, he migrated to Malone, New York, and has continued to gripe about the frigid winter temperatures ever since. A member of the Society for American Baseball Research, he has authored two non-fiction books on the topic of baseball: Cellar Dwellers and Gallery of Rogues. His first novel, The Bridgeport Hammer, (a baseball story set during the WWII era) is being released in the summer of 2014. He writes about the game because he lacked the skills to play it professionally. He still can’t hit a curveball or lay off the high heat.
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