Will on Clemente

Every five years or so, George Will comes out with a collection of his newspaper and magazine columns. It is a sign of my conservative nerdishness that I look forward to them so much. When he hits a groove with his columns, it's really something, and his collections can be like a scrapbook of the political arguments of a particular era. For example, his previous collection, With a Happy Eye But . . . America and the World 1997-2002 contains a section of brilliant, scathing columns published during the debate over the McCain-Feingold campaign finance bill. Will was, and is, an outspoken critic of government regulation of political speech, and his columns puncture every gassy, self-congratulatory argument made by the bill's proponents.

Which is why (he says, finally approaching his point) I'm finding his latest collection, One Man's America, so interesting. It displays both Will's trademark arch tone, incisive wit, and a fencer's ability to hit his opponent right on the mark, as well as a few ideological tics that became increasingly noticeable during the Bush years. I'll be posting about the good and the not-so-good of the book over the next few days. For starters, something light:

Longtime Will fans know that he is a great lover of baseball. (His Men at Work is a fascinating look at how major leaguers approach their jobs). One section of One Man's America consists of columns about football, basketball, and sports culture. The section is titled "Games." The next section, about three times as long, focuses exclusively on baseball and is titled "The Game"--emphasis very much in the original.

Anyway, a column from May 2006 on Roberto Clemente, inspired by David Maraniss's biography of the great Pittsburgh Pirates slugger, displays Will's love for the game, his eye for fun detail, and his ability to pack an entire novel into a single sentence. To illustrate Clemente's great power at the plate, Will writes about two at bats with the most feared tough-guy pitchers of his day.

A Clemente line drive broke the leg of one Hall of Fame pitcher (the Cardinals' Bob Gibson, who pitched to three more batters before collapsing) and, Maraniss believes, hastened the retirement of another, the Dodger's Don Drysdale. In August 1969, after a Clemente shot whistled into the outfield, Drysdale flicked what felt like an insect off his neck, but discovered blood on his fingers. Clemente's drive had torn the skin off the top of Drysdale's ear. Shaken, Drysdale walked Clemente the next time up and retired six days later.

Don't you want to know more about Gibson's broken leg, and Drysdale's bloody ear -- what they said about it, how they felt, and all the rest? I know I do. But Will has a knack for knowing when a few words is enough to propel the reader along. That isn't as hard as hitting a Bob Gibson slider, but it ain't beanbag.