- - PRAISE FOR "BALLS" - -

". . . fun, easy-to-read and staggeringly informative. . ." MLB.com

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SportsIllustrated.com
"Sportswriters, editors and publishers of sports books may still largely be men, but sports fans are just about equally becoming women. Silva and Koney thought someone should speak to those women, someone who didn't patronize. . .I think they're right."

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". . . a grand slam of information and entertainment. . ."
Asbury Park Press

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"...it is a guide to the intricacies and history of the game that every woman should have, and frankly some men too... It likely will go down as a keeper. After all, it may be that death and taxes are the only certainties in life, but mothers, sons, daughters, and Little League are next in line..."
Contra Costa Times

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". . . this is NOT a baseball book 'for dummies'. . . "
 SportsTalk New York

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". . . Almost anyone should be able to pick up something from this book  - regardless of how much you know - or think you know - about baseball. . ."
Baseball Book Review

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More reviews/interviews
 

In 2009....Enjoy The Game
Like Never Before!

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LADIES DAY with the
TACOMA RAINIERS!

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WHEW!
That was one heck of a dream.
Check out last summer's Tour Schedule

As many of you know, pitchers and catchers reported to spring training last weekend. When I noted that to a friend in my neighborhood, she told me the date has been on her household calendar for months.

Of course, I thought to myself. That makes perfect sense: She’s a baseball fan and we all know that women control the household calendars. That would be what goes on it, what doesn’t go on it and – perhaps more importantly – what gets erased when something else better comes along.

And Marjorie had put “pitchers and catchers” on hers. She’s not alone. Women across this country keep their families operating like a well-tuned battery (in the baseball sense) by noting on the calendars things such as the true beginning of baseball season. For fans, spring training is the bellwether (in the literary sense, not agricultural sense) of springtime and, ultimately, summertime.

That’s what it’s been about since we were all in grammar school, right?. I don’t think it ever stops.  Even my grandfather, who turned 97 last week, relishes the coming of spring. He and Nana, 90, live in New Hampshire. This means that not even stubborn New Englanders turn their backs on the promise of spring. As much as they’d like to.

Nana is a big Red Sox fan. So this means that even the regional obstinate gene can’t stand a chance when it comes to The Sox. And, yes – in case you were wondering – Nana controls the household calendar … and the remote, and the map and the Bingo dauber pen and…well, I could go on.

(And, speaking of control, that’s exactly why pitchers and catchers show up to training camp before the other guys. If it were me, after all, I’d want to make sure that my pitcher has brushed the cobwebs off of his fastball before hurling one mere inches from my chest – or worse, my ear… which is exactly where it would go if he didn’t get in a few days extra practice.)

All this talk about the promise of the season reminds me of something: I have to call one of my friends. You see, we share season tickets with her husband and he wants to get together to figure out which games he’ll take for the upcoming season.  Problem is, he doesn’t really know his schedule . . . She’s got the calendar. 


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