Books in Brief

My Life as a Fan: A Memoir, by ‘Wilfrid Sheed (Simon & Schuster, 224 pp., $20)

IN THIS charming memoir, Wilfrid Sheed claims that when he isn’t writing he worries about the Mets and the future of baseball. He should stop worrying, and write more about baseball. Arriving in America in 1940, nine-year-old Wilfrid quickly discovered a country filled with attics (for pondering baseball) and ballparks (for watching it). If he also tried to play the game, he prefers to keep those horrors to himself. Soon enough, though, horrors aplenty would rule his life, whether horror at Connie Mack’s godawful A’s, the Bums of Brooklyn, or the woeful Mets. It all began magically when he first emerged from the “appropriate tunnel, the birth canal,” to behold the “most beautiful sight I’d ever seen”: Shibe Park. By 1942 he was hooked. And hooked he has stayed, despite being abandoned by Walter O’Malley, “against” whom this book is dedicated. But why bother worrying about the future of baseball? Of course terminally greedy players and owners deserve to be rooted out. But don’t hold your breath. They are always with us—but so are the fans. Mr. Sheed would realize this after wrestling my young son for the sports page or re-reading this delightful book, which deserves to be the hit of the season.

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My Life as a Fan: A Memoir, by ‘Wilfrid Sheed (Simon & Schuster, 224 pp., $20)

IN THIS charming memoir, Wilfrid Sheed claims that when he isn’t writing he worries about the Mets and the future of baseball. He should stop worrying, and write more about baseball. Arriving in America in 1940, nine-year-old Wilfrid quickly discovered a country filled with attics (for pondering baseball) and ballparks (for watching it). If he also tried to play the game, he prefers to keep those horrors to himself. Soon enough, though, horrors aplenty would rule his life, whether horror at Connie Mack’s godawful A’s, the Bums of Brooklyn, or the woeful Mets. It all began magically when he first emerged from the “appropriate tunnel, the birth canal,” to behold the “most beautiful sight I’d ever seen”: Shibe Park. By 1942 he was hooked. And hooked he has stayed, despite being abandoned by Walter O’Malley, “against” whom this book is dedicated. But why bother worrying about the future of baseball? Of course terminally greedy players and owners deserve to be rooted out. But don’t hold your breath. They are always with us—but so are the fans. Mr. Sheed would realize this after wrestling my young son for the sports page or re-reading this delightful book, which deserves to be the hit of the season.