Ball Four, My Mom, and 8 Year-Old-Me

File this under unintended consequence.

In lending a one of my copies of Ball Four (yes, I have multiple copies) to @sabometrics it led to @ronm3xico commenting about beaver hunting being part of the book. I'm not going to spoil the book for you, but man did this lead to a memory resurfacing, and a question I once asked:

"Mom, what's Beaver Hunting?"

I was eight when I asked the question. Ah, gotta love the 1980s.

How I got my hands on what for an eight year old may actually be considered porn is simple enough: I loved reading about baseball. Anything and everything. Growing up in Boston I was blessed with the Boston Globe Sunday sports section. I was blessed with a Mother who loves baseball. I was blessed with a father was knew nothing about baseball only that he encouraged his son to read.

Every Sunday I would go to the used book store with my father; him buy me a book and then myself devour anything remotely sports related. Imagine my father's happiness when we came upon a rather thick baseball book that could be had for a dollar. Imagine my happiness when I started reading said thick book. My mother, not so much happiness.

The noise my mother made was along the lines of the same noise I imagine I'll make when my daughter announces she has a boyfriend - a cross between cat hacking up hairball and bad tasting tequila.

Her simple question/statement, "Are you reading Ball Four? I read that book."

Eight-year-old me was super excited. A) My mother recognized a book I was reading B) She had read the book. This immediately made is so cool on so many levels I could barely begin to describe it. My mother and myself - reading buddies!

I didn't anticipate C though.

"Give me that!" Those were the next words out of his mouth and it became the first item I can ever recall my mother unjustly (at least as far as I was concerned) taking from me.

Only it still didn't answer the question: What's Beaver Hunting?

My older (11 years of age and wisdom) and somewhat wiser brother had no idea idea. None of the neighborhood kids knew the answer. The mystical and seemingly amazing term that could horrify a parent was certainly something that needed further examination.

So I did what any self respecting eight year old would do: I found the book on my mother's bookshelf and spent the next month sneaking in readings of it. Much like watching Grease, Animal House, or Blues Brothers I didn't really understand the sex parts of the book - not even beaver hunter.

Gotta love Ball Four. Thanks for bringing up the memory guys.

Wayne

P.S. If you look back of Mickey Mantle’s biography, Whitey Ford’s biography, and Billy Martin's biography it took really about five seconds to put together how much carousing and drinking these guys did.