Like Nigel Molesworth, DWS's intrepid schoolboy narrator, Jim Bouton took me into a world full of bizarre rituals, arcane slang, side-splitting pranks, and unforgettable characters. What I found instead, much to my surprise and delight, was a riotously funny account of life in the major (and minor) leagues that, if anything, reminded me most of an adult American version of Geoffrey Willans and Ronald Searle's Down With Skool series. But by 'controversial,' I was expecting a gritty, hard-bitten exposé, something along the lines of Serpico or All The President's Men, to name two other books that my grandfather probably had no business lending to a grandson who had just graduated fifth grade. The baseball bug had bitten me hard, and I was determined to get my hands on any reading material that could expand my knowledge of my favorite sport - and, once again, Grandpa Fred had come through for me.Īs a child of the Seventies, I was already well aware that baseball men were not necessarily squeaky-clean role models to be looked up to - after all, I had just seen a livid Billy Martin try to punch out Reggie Jackson on national TV - and I'd already heard that Ball Four was supposed to be 'controversial'. I was eleven years old, and looking forward to a blissfully relaxing month of swimming, golfing, throwing a baseball against the back steps, watching baseball on TV, and reading about baseball in the air-conditioned comfort of my grandfather's study. It was the summer of 1977, and I had just arrived at my grandparents' palatial (to me, at least) home in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. 'I thought you might want to read this,' said Grandpa Fred, handing me his copy of Jim Bouton's Ball Four.

Ball four plus ball five