The New York Game.

 "He who tooteth not his own horn, the same shall not be tooted."

—John L. Lewis

My Dear Fellow Lunatics:

 

Reports of my demise in 2020 have been greatly exaggerated. Contrary to what you may have read, I did not pass away on my beloved St. Croix, but have been secreted in an undisclosed Bronx location, working away at my major opus on the history of New York City baseball.

 

At last, it is done! It is entitled, The New York Game: Baseball and the Rise of a New City. It is being published by Knopf, and will be out in March. You can buy it online, or at most any friendly local bookshop or lunatic asylum—though publishers always like copious pre-orders.

 

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/7503/the-new-york-game-by-kevin-baker/

 

As you can see, I wrote it under the name of some passing schlemiel, whose birthright I purchased for a mess o’pottage, i.e., a bunch of certified, Yankee Stadium rat dogs.  

 

It only goes through 1945, but that’s long enough to get plenty of Yankees stuff in, and if you’ll notice there’s a Yankee on the cover. It’s also before a certain other team in Queens ever existed.

 

And don’t worry, the second volume, already written, will be out in the spring of 2026—just as the Yanks prepare to win their third straight ring! HAHAHAHAHAHA. 

 

Countless thanks to El Duque, Stang, Alphonso, and everybody else who runs this blessed escape from sanity. Now I can truly echo their elegant admonition:

 

“Buy my book, you hockey pucks!”

 

Please.

 

Horace Clarke