The Bliss of Completion

My career as a writer/author, is a direct derivative of my young life as a baseball player. I began playing when I was four years. I had a brother 14 months younger than I, so I always had someone to complete against...endless competition. One on-one to begin with. They call it "stickball," but we played with real baseball bats. We played with a tennis ball (or a "sponge" ball--our biggest investment for the week--they didn't last very long).

Then we played "hardball-stickball," batter and pitcher, with a bat and hardball instead of a tennis ball. I was always better than my brother. Genetics in this case. Very fast reflexes. In our "stickball league" (two players versus two players), I hit about .389 and my brother about .220. He was a better pitcher than I was, so I must have been a terrific hitter.

UISTORY, #2: I began playing Little League Baseball when I was 10 years old. This was my first year in "organized ball." My first recognition in a newspaper, the IRVINGTON HERALD: "KOENIGSBERG HITS, HURLS TO VICTORY (spelled my name wrong). We won 15-0, I was the pitcher and also had several hits. It was a PRETTY BIG HEADLINE. I had many write-up in the newspaper after that.

I got write-ups in the Newspaper as a LITTLE LEAGUE star. I guess this was one of the first "externalizations" of myself. Koenigsberg was "out there," in print. The WORD became a substitute for reality. The write-up became a substitute for physical reality. "All men die, but the record lives" (Grantland Rice). Even at eleven years old, I was keeping meticulous records. My first intellectual endeavor was keeping statistics on Yankee baseball.

thletic History, #3: Hard to remember the specifics of Little League games. I do remember one game getting hit in the head. Have to be fearless to be a good hittler (hitter I mean) in baseball. Also, dropping a high pop-up at short-stop (the baseballs were loaded, fortunately even though there were two outs, the players on the other team weren't running, of I would have really been in trouble. I hit well-over 300 as an eleven- and twelve-year-old, but I didn't get a swelled head. There was one player, Stevie Kuldanek, who weighed about 165 pounds (I weighed maybe 105), who HIT A HOME RUN NEARLY EVERY TIME UP. Geez, he was the great one in those days.

ATHLETIC HISTORY, #4: I made the Little League All-Star team when I was eleven, and also when I was twelve. I remember my greatest game when the Irvington All-Stars beat Maplewood All-Stars, 5-4. I scored three runs and turned a double play at shortstop.

But then we played an All-Star game against another city, a team with a great pitcher (six hours sitting in front of the television set). This is when I learned what baseball is all about. He pitched so fast you could barely see the ball. This is the way it is in the "Bigs," but few people know, because most are spectators, arm-chair warriors. It's the essence of baseball: the terror of facing a pitcher that throws 90-100 miles an hour. The great ones are also the most courageous ones.

My career as a writer/author, is a direct derivative of my young life as a baseball player. I began playing when I was four years. I had a brother 14 months younger than I, so I always had someone to complete against...endless competition. One-on-one to begin with. They call it "stickball," but we played with a tennis ball (or a "sponge" ball--our biggest investment for the week--they didn't last very long).

y batting stance, much later in the living room in Elmhurst, New York City

UISTORY, #2: I began playing Little League Baseball when I was 10 years old. This was my first year in "organized ball." My first recognition in a newspaper, the IRVINGTON HERALD: "KOENIGSBERG HITS, HURLS TO VICTORY." We won 15-0, I was the pitcher and also had several hits. It was a PRETTY BIG HEADLINE. I had many write-ups in the newspaper after that.

I guess this was one of the first "externalizations" of myself. Koenigsberg was "out there," in print. The WORD became a substitute for reality. The write-up became a substitute for physical reality. "All men die, but the record lives" (Grantland Rice). Even at eleven years old, I was keeping meticulous records. My first intellectual endeavor was keeping statistics on Yankee baseball.

I was very intimate with the players. Would watch double-headers on Sundays when my family went to the swim-club. I understood the psychology of Yogi Berra, Gene Woodling, Gene Bauer (trouble with an outside curveball), Mickey Mantle of course (greatest hitter ever, particularly right-handed).

Athletic History, #3: Hard to remember the specifics of Little League games. I do remember one game getting hit in the head. Have to be fearless to be a good hittler (hitter I mean) in baseball. Also, dropping a high pop-up at short-stop (the baseballs were loaded, fortunately even though there were two outs, the players on the other team weren't running, of I would have really been in trouble. I hit well-over 300 as an eleven- and twelve-year-old, but I didn't get a swelled head. There was one player, Stevie Kuldanek, who weighed about 165 pounds (I weighed maybe 105), who HIT A HOME RUN NEARLY EVERY TIME UP. Geez, he was the great one in those days.

But then we played a team with a great pitcher. This is when I learned what baseball is all about. He pitched so fast; you could barely see the ball. This is the way it is in the "Bigs," but few people know what it actually means to face a pitcher with a blazing fastball, because most people are spectators, arm-chair warriors. It's the essence of baseball: the terror of facing a pitcher that throws 90-100 miles an hour (not to mention getting hit by the hard rock, and sometimes hit in the head, although it's a miracle that only one batter was killed in the long history of baseball. The great ones are the most courageous ones.

But not much of this reality is available if you "watch the game on television." The reality is SO DIFFERENT than watching "reality."

And where does baseball come from. Why was this strange game created and why does it persist. The "social construction of reality," but why such a strange construction? The scholars don't pursue these kinds of serious questions. Baseball exists--because it exists. But what an ASTONISHING and unlikely "social construction."