I just received Jane Leavy's new book on Mickey Mantle, and the '50's Yankees. I liked her book on Sandy Koufax, if for no other reason than no one had gotten anything form Koufax for decades, but she did. It was a good narrative too, but what really sold me on the new book was an excerpt I read of it in SI, about 3 weeks ago.
85 odd years ago, sports writers didn't write anything about ball players off the field adventures, which was still true when Mantle came up. Back then, baseball writers and ball clubs traveled on the same trains, and clubs often subsidized the papers for the nice publicity they'd get.
This particular story happens one evening, after the writers had finished having dinner, and were settling down in the club car for a little card playing.
Suddenly, a outer door bursts open, and a naked and scared Babe Ruth races through, followed by a nude young lady, wielding a baseball bat.
One writer studying his cards says, "Well, that's another story we won't be reporting."
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