"A wonderfully lyrical tale of the season that put poetry back into baseball. . . . The best book yet by America's finest sportswriter." -- Pete Hamill "Here is what makes Mike Lupica so
good—he is a gifted writer with the skills of a first-rate reporter and the honest sentiment of a lifelong fan. Here is what makes this book so good—baseball's summer of '98 provided authentic
moments of poetry and passion, the kind of stuff that shines through all the crassness and nonsense, to remind us all why we can still care. I'd say the storyteller is a damn good match for the
story." -- Bob Costas, NBC Sports "This isn't just one of the best books you'll ever read about baseball. It's one of the best books you'll ever read about fathers and sons. And one more thing:
in this one, I said everything Mike said I said." -- Yoggi Berra "No one writes about baseball's glorious sporting scene better than Mike Lupica, and this was one of the greatest glory years of
all." -- Tom Brokaw, NBC News From one of sportswriting's best-known commentators comes a funny, moving, and unconventional exploration of a glorious baseball season. In the summer of '61, Mike
Lupica's father left notes for him in the night: Maris hit another, Mantle went two-for-four, the Yanks won. That was Lupica's best summer ever. He thought he'd never have another like it—until
the summer of '98, when he found himself leaving notes for his own sons: Sosa hit another, McGwire hit one back. And the Yanks won. With humor and feeling, Lupica recaptures the season that
made everyone stand up and cheer, but not in any ordinary way. His is also a story of fathers and sons—about the golden thread that stretches through baseball and, for Lupica, from his father
to himself to his sons. "I cannot tell you why baseball is passed on the way it is, more than the other sports. I just know it came first with me. It was something I shared with my father, and
still share today. It was a special language we had, at the ballpark, in the front seat of a '56 Dodge, watching on television. Talking on the telephone the night McGwire hit No. 62, all that
time after we had watched Maris hit No. 61. A love that fits inside a bigger love, like a ball in a mitt."
