Chris Dunn, in his "Win or Lose" post, asks a great question: Why does it seem that only winners write up stories about their games?

Implicit in that question is another: Why can't every manager, or for that matter, most every player take a shot at writing up game stories?

After all, this website is the perfect venue for everybody's and anybody's postings. For 100 days each summer, we're the lucky, aging adults
who still play baseball, and, on this website, we have our own daily baseball newspaper.

So, it's a double treat if we can play the game and save it.

Of course, part of the answer to Chris's question might be that it's hard for losing-side managers or players to write while also still absorbing
a defeat's blows.

But actually, the guys who sometimes lose, as Jim Edelman points out, post stories, too. In addition to Jim's posts, I've seen fine losing-side
write-ups by Jim Porter, Lex Herlett and Rob Currier, among others. And I've even seen guys whose teams win a lot, such as Jim Konstantakis,
Mike Girard and even Jim Bonaparte (once, in the hoary past, his Indians may have lost a game) write up fine and fair pieces about their
teams' defeats,while often celebrating the play of their opponents.

Another, wider question would be: Why doesn't everybody take a shot at writing something about their games?

That's a question that's been with me for a long time because there are so many dramatic and lively things happening in every game. That's
every game, without fail. Truth is, the selfish part of me would like to read them, and as I read, say, "Holy cow!"

I spent 30 years as a journalist and I know that good "gamers," as we called them in the business, are not hard to write. Anyone can do it. The
best model is not the story you see in The New York Times or The Daily News. Those are professional pieces, written for large, widespread
audiences and, frankly, they can be flat. Pure snoozers.

No, the best model is your own conversation, the things you'd tell the guy next to you on the bench. As in, "Holy cow! Did you see that?" It's
the Phil Rizzuto style of writing.

In that style, you always look for something dramatic, and drama is always found in just three things: in the unusual or unexpected, in the
stakes involved and in emotions.

So you write about what's surprising or moving in your team's game, what a win or a loss might mean. Keep what you write short (if you can;
I break my own rule here) and always put the score close to the top. Nobody wants to read five paragraphs to learn who won.

That approach frees you from feeling you have to retell the game inning by inning. Only way you'd do that is if each inning is a barn-burner
in itself. So you'd kill lines like, "Joe Jones singled in the first, stole second, scored on fielder's choice, etc." Those are snoozers.
Readers' eyes glaze over. The head goes to sleep.You want action that doesn't happen in almost every game. The memorable,
"holy cow!" stuff.

And the thing is, it's always there. In every game we play. You just have to look.

Here's an example: In the Peppers last game, which we lost 7-2 to the Marlins on Wednesday, I wrote exactly one paragraph on the game. I put
the score at the top, celebrated the pitching of Marlins' starter Mike Girard, which deserved it, and of our third baseman, Tom Japour, who went
2-for-3 on a bad leg.

Then, I went to what struck me as the most dramatic element of the game, where the stakes were highest: namely, that at least two
batters (the Marlins' John Corrigan and I), and maybe more, had a very hard time seeing the ball at the plate from the third through the sixth innings.

I guessed that had to do with backlighting behind the pitcher: the outfield was in brilliant sunlight while the infield was in shade which
meant that it was very hard to see the ball coming out the pitcher's hand. For a hitter, that can be worrisome and dangerous.

The question for me was what to do about it the next time I play there? I asked for advice from the readers. (So far, I've gotten
some interesting replies.)

But! If I were not writing about those high stakes, then what you see below could have been my "holy cow!" story. Here's how it might have sounded
had I been talking to the guys next to me on the bench about 5:50 p.m. It could have served as the entire story:

"Guess what, guys? Our shortstop can't make it. And neither can our two centerfielders. Our third baseman has a sore leg, and he can't run
We have only 10 guys and the tenth has a bum knee and he just wants to DH and keep score. We do have three first basemen. Two will have
to play the outfield. One will go to left, where he's never played before. Our left fielder will go to center, though if given his druthers, he'd rather
play third. Our other left fielder will play short, where he hasn't played in 35 years. Our catcher has a sore elbow. That may affect his
throwing. I'm pitching and my right knee is swollen. Good news? Our first and second basemen are feeling good and ready to go, and
Ron will likely show up about the second inning. So, OK, let's go win this one."

"The result? We lost 7-2, but our shortstop came in to pitch in the fourth, and didn't allow a run; our newly minted left fielder made a leaping
running catch to pull a double out of the air; our centerfielder went to third, where he made two fine plays; Ron showed in the second and
anchored short, and we kept the M's off the boards for four of the seven innings. Did we lose? Yeah. But, maybe not, too. At the very
least, we kept general chaos at bay for one more game."

That could work as one story.

But you could do that story a thousand different ways. Main thing? Find the drama, write it as if you were telling it. It's your story.
Celebrate the the great, or unusual moments, the fine plays, the remarkable people, and keep it "Holy cow!" No need to write every pitch.

I hope more guys give writing game stories a shot. TV's a bore. Baseball's not. Y'all can do it.

Thanks for the idea, Chris.

-Mike




-- Edited by mikehart on Friday 23rd of June 2017 08:17:59 PM