The Last Commissioner: A Baseball Valentine
by Fay Vincent
Publisher: Simon and Schuster, 2002

book reviewed by Elliott A. Shaw, Jr.

Baseball has suffered immeasurably over the past decade. The cancellation of the 1994 World Series left fans disillusioned with the National Pastime. Last year, it came within a whisker of writing itself into oblivion, but for an eleventh-hour deal avoiding another work stoppage.

Baseball is clearly in need of a commissioner -- a real commissioner. Fay Vincent, eighth commissioner of Major League Baseball, left office in 1992, forced out by a powerful block of team owners. Vincent says he is the last commissioner. Unfortunately, he is probably right. The game has been left in the unsteady hands of Bud Selig, a man self-selected from the ownership ranks.

Vincent has a right to feel betrayed by his employers. He could have used his book, "The Last Commissioner: A Baseball Valentine," as is an opportunity to settle the score. Instead, Vincent takes the high road. His book makes the student of the game the real winner, with his thoughtful recitation of some of baseball's defining moments and his insight to some of its greatest personalities.

Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio receive top billing. Vincent grew up in southern Connecticut, an avid Yankee fan. He needs to pinch himself when many years later, as commissioner, he is hosting Joe and Ted for breakfast in his hotel suite in Washington, D.C.. Joe is reserved as always. Ted is bubbling over with enthusiasm, talking about hitting, his life-long passion. Their breakfast started one of his best days as commissioner. Later that day, he and the two greatest living ballplayers would board Air Force One with President Bush (#41), on their way to the 1991 All-Star game in Toronto. Fay sums it up as "the greatest unexpected benefit a job could have."

He came from good stock. His father, Fay Vincent, Sr. was captain of the baseball and football team at Yale. When his playing days were over, his father jumped headfirst into collegiate officiating, a part-time job that became his passion and ingrained Fay, Jr. with a high esteem for baseball's umpires. Dad was a frugal man. The Vincents went many years without a car or a home of their own.

Fay's own days as an athlete were cut short by a freak accident at his dorm room at Williams College. He needed emergency surgery to repair two crushed vertebrae and has trouble walking to this day. (Later, Fay would interact closely with another Williams College graduate -- George Steinbrenner, class of '52).

The book is a valentine to baseball. It is also a valentine to his father, the Game's umpires, the Bush family, an obscure Negro Leaguer named Alfred "Slick" Suratt and especially to Vincent's predecessor, A. Bartlett Giamatti.

Fay first met Bart when they were both college presidents -- Fay at Columbia Pictures and Bart at Yale University. When Mr. Giamatti was named president of Yale he stated, "All I ever wanted to be president of was the American League."

Giamatti's love of baseball and the Red Sox were legendary in academic circles. A close friendship blossomed with Vincent. It was a friendship that would take them on a circuitous route to the office responsible for "upholding the best interests of baseball."

The best interests of the game are frequently up for debate. Recently, the Baseball Hall of Fame sparked national attention when Hall president Dale Petrovsky canceled an appearance in Cooperstown by actors Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon because of their public stance against the war in Iraq. Then there was the debacle of the 2002 All-Star game when "Commissioner" Bud Selig ended the game in a tie, turning the festivities into a public relations nightmare - a nightmare brought on all-the-quicker by some of Mr. Selig's numerous earlier miscues.

Commissioner Giamatti, with his deputy Fay Vincent, had to decide much weightier matters, most notably the gambling allegations brought against Cincinnati Reds manager Pete Rose. The chapter dealing with this sordid affair is instructional, with doses of humor. Readers can close their eyes and see Pete Rose at his meeting in the commissioner's office as Vincent recounts it in splendid detail: "He wore a white shirt with a wide tie and a polyester suit, green and shiny and too small for his stocky body. His hair was spiked, standing on end." It is at this meeting that Rose spins his "I never bet on baseball" story.

The book adds to the growing body of evidence that the truth lies elsewhere. Vincent tells of betting slips, in Rose's own handwriting, and eagerly leads the reader to the source documents of the investigation (www.dowdreport.com).

Commissioner Giamatti banished Pete Rose from baseball for life on August 24, 1989. Less than two weeks later, Giamatti was dead, succumbing to a massive heart attack. Was it the stress of the Pete Rose affair? The loyal deputy speculates that the Rose case may have accelerated Bart's death, but that his diet and chain- smoking certainly also contributed to his premature death.

Vincent was elevated to commissioner. Within a few short weeks, the new commissioner made what turned out to be the most momentous decision in his three year reign -- whether to proceed with the 1989 World Series after a tremendous earthquake in San Francisco just minutes prior to the start of game three. The series resumed ten days later after painstaking consultations with the players, fans and owners.

The book proves that even the best love stories have their bumps in the road. The "Lords of Baseball" come under the heaviest fire in the book, particularly Jerry Reinsdorf of the White Sox, Marge Schott of the Reds, Selig of the Brewers and Steinbrenner. (George gets his own chapter. Vincent would later banish Steinbrenner for cavorting with a small-time New York gambler.)

The owners come across as petty and paranoid. What a surprise! George W. Bush is a notable exception. When G.W. was part owner of the Texas Rangers, Vincent saw first-hand how captivated he was by baseball. (In the mid-90's, when baseball no longer had a commissioner, George called Fay to ask if he should consider taking the job. Instead he chose to run for governor of Texas.)

Vincent's ties to the Bush family run deep. He lived for a time with George W.'s uncle Bucky Bush (George H.W.'s brother) in Texas, and he has always considered the Bush family to be "exceptionally thoughtful." George the elder, not only called on his first day as commissioner to wish him well, but also called on his last day in 1992 after he was forced-out.

Sprinkled throughout the book are wonderful stories about some of the names from baseball's past -- umpire Augie Donatelli, manager Bill Rigney, White Sox Outfielder Minnie Minoso and Negro Leaguer "Double Duty" Radcliffe. These stories add flavor to a good book.

Baseball has endured the past ten years because of exceptional moments. Cal Ripken thrilled us with his run around the park after breaking the consecutive games record and McGwire and Sosa enthralled us with their summer chase for immortality. But, it can't stay vibrant that way. The nation's youth are turning away from baseball in record numbers. The neighborhood pick-up game has become extinct. Prices to a game are out-of-reach for too many families. The game begs for visionary leadership. For now, Vincent will remain as the post-facto last Commissioner of Baseball. Let's hope for the game's sake he loses that title sometime soon.

Shaw is Director of Government Affairs for The Business Council of New York State, responsible for supervising the Council's lobbying department. A native of Ticonderoga and a graduate of Siena College, Elliott has been employed by The Business Council since 1984. An avid baseball fan, he has written numerous articles, including The Last DiMaggio, about the playing career of Dominic DiMaggio of the Boston Red Sox. He lives in Glenmont, New York with his wife and two sons.

*******

05/22/2003