An unorthodox history of baseball told through the enthralling stories of the game's objects, equipment, and characters. No sport embraces its wild history quite like baseball, especially in memorabilia and objects. Sure, there are baseball cards and team pennants. But there are also huge balls, giant bats, peanuts, cracker jacks, eyeblack, and more, each with a backstory you have to read to believe. In The 34-Ton Bat, Sports Illustrated writer Steve Rushin tells the real, unvarnished story of baseball through the lens of all the things that make it the game that it is. Rushin weaves these rich stories -- from ballpark pipe organs played by malevolent organists to backed up toilets at Ebbets Field -- together in their order of importance (from most to least) for an entertaining and compulsive read, glowing with a deep passion for America's Pastime. The perfect holiday gift for casual fans and serious collectors alike, The 34-Ton Bat is a true heavy hitter.

Why do modern-day sluggers like Aaron Judge prefer maple bats over the traditional ash bats swung by Ted Williams and others? Why did the surge of broken bats in the early 21st century create a crisis for Major League Baseball and what steps were taken to address the issue? Are different woods being considered by players and manufacturers? Do insects, disease and climate change pose a problem long-term? These and other questions are answered in this exhaustive examination of the history and future of wooden bats, written for both lifelong baseball fans and curious newcomers.

This is a story of the 1970s. Of a road trip in a wood-paneled station wagon, with the kids in the way-back, singing along to the Steve Miller Band. Of brothers waking up early on Saturday mornings for five consecutive hours of cartoons. Of growing up in a magical era populated by Bic pens, Mr. Clean and Scrubbing Bubbles, lightsabers and those oh-so-coveted Schwinn Sting-Ray bikes. And of a father -- one of 3M's greatest and last eight-track salesmen -- traveling across the country on the brand-new Boeing 747, providing for his family but wanting nothing more than to get home. In Sting-Ray Afternoons, Steve Rushin paints an utterly nostalgic, psychedelically vibrant portrait of a decade overflowing with technological evolution, cultural revolution, as well as brotherly, sisterly, and parental love. "Funny, elegiac... a remarkably sunny coming-of-age story about growing up in a Midwest world." -- NPR

A funny and endearing novel about the comforts of a never-ending adolescence and the glories of Guinness. For Rodney Poole, a friendly and unassuming lover of clever wordplay and television sports of all stripes, Boyle's Irish Pub is a haven of good cheer, pleasantly pointless conversation, elaborate jokes, heated trivia contests, well-poured pints, and familiar faces. The pressures and demands of the outside world hold no sway there- the crowd at Boyle's is his family, and with family all sins are forgiven. But reality cannot be kept at bay forever, and now Rodney's best friend and partner in inertia, Keith, is getting married and moving to Chicago. Since Rodney has for the most part enjoyed his bachelorhood vicariously through Keith, the prospect of being single, middle-aged, unemployed, and without his pal to while away the nights with is causing Rodney to rethink—or rather, create—his priorities. When Keith introduces him to the lovely Mairead (rhymes with parade), a cheerful career woman who seems to enjoy his bad puns, ambitionless nature, and love of literature, Rodney can spy an honorable path to grown-up-hood at last. But a series of comic mishaps jeopardize his budding relationship with Mairead, his friendship with Keith, and most serious of all, his place on a barstool in the idyllic world of Boyle's.

On the eve of his thirtieth birthday, Steve Rushin decided he wanted to revisit the twin pursuits of his youth: epic car trips and an unhealthy obsession with sports. He had a desire to see French Lick, Indiana, the boyhood home of Larry Bird, to attend a Texas high school football game and to watch Louisville Sluggers being "Powerized"--whatever on Earth that means. So he got into his Japanese car and drove to American sports shrines for a year. "I was going to put my finger on the pulse of American sports, and I wanted that finger to be one of those giant, foam-rubber index fingers worn by pinhead fans across the land. So I joined Interstate 35 and traveled south out of Minneapolis in a cold gray mist. It was like driving into a sneeze. The radio reported ninety-four-mile-an-hour winds in southern Minnesota, as well as golf ball-, baseball-, and softball-sized hail. It was raining sporting goods, and I was following the perforated yellow line of the highway, like a trail of dripping ballpark nacho cheese, that would lead me to the soul of American sports--or whatever I was looking for." Like a sports-addled "Blue Highways, Road Swing is a hearty chunk of Americana, a travelogue about the places that are the soul of sports, and a reflection of those themes that are unique to the American character.

Baseball and law have intersected since the primordial days. In 1791, a Pittsfield, Massachusetts, ordinance prohibited ball playing near the town's meeting house. Ball games on Sundays were barred by a Pennsylvania statute in 1794. In 2015, a federal court held that baseball's exemption from antitrust laws applied to franchise relocations. Another court overturned the conviction of Barry Bonds for obstruction of justice. A third denied a request by rooftop entrepreneurs to enjoin the construction of a massive video screen at Wrigley Field. This exhaustive chronology traces the effects the law has had on the national pastime, both pro and con, on and off the field, from the use of copyright to protect not only equipment but also "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" to frequent litigation between players and owners over contracts and the reserve clause. The stories of lawyers like Kenesaw Mountain Landis and Branch Rickey are entertainingly instructive.

The baseball glove is a ubiquitous item, a crucial piece of equipment in the game of baseball, and it offers the opportunity to examine the production of material culture and social practice at numerous levels. Where and how is a glove made, and how does its manufacture square with the narratives surrounding its place in American cultural life? What are the myths, superstitions, and beliefs surrounding its acquisition, care, use, and significance? How does a glove function as the center of a web of cultural practices that illustrate how individuals relate to a consumer good as a symbol of memory, personal narrative, and national identity? How do the manufacturers of baseball gloves draw upon, promote, and in some sense create these practices? How do these practices and meanings change in other national and cultural contexts? The Baseball Glove offers students the opportunity to examine these questions in an engagingly written and illustrated book that promotes hands-on interaction with a quintessential item of material culture. At the same time, the book gives students the space for critical self-reflection about the place of material goods like sporting equipment in their lives, and it provides the chance to learn different methodological approaches to studying everyday objects.

Sometimes funny, sometimes touching, this adoption story, Won Ton, told entirely in haiku, is unforgettable. Nice place they got here. Bed. Bowl. Blankie. Just like home! Or so I've been told. Visiting hours! Yawn. I pretend not to care. Yet -- I sneak a peek. So begins this beguiling tale of a wary shelter cat and the boy who takes him home.

Baseball "by The Book."