The Baseball Trivia Book I’ll Never Write

Hi!

I’ve been writing Now I Know for almost 15 years and intend to do so for at least 15 more. Along the way, I’ve been fortunate to have published three books, but six years ago, I was working on a fourth one — one I couldn’t find a publisher for. (Oh well.) It was about baseball trivia. I don’t have it all written, but I do have the intro/pitch done, and some of the fun facts… and I’ve never shared any of it publicly before. Yesterday, baseball fans celebrated Opening Day. (The Mets lost, but it’s still better than a day without baseball.)

I’d rather not let it sit unread for another six or seven years. So today is as good of a day as any to share that intro — and some of the fun facts I had collected along the way.

The Intro

This is verbatim from what I shared with publishers; at the time, my third book hadn’t come out. It also introduces the publisher and book reader to Now I Know, which you’re already familiar with. And, of course, it was written to be in a book, so the references to that book remain. — Dan

A few years ago, I started an email newsletter called Now I Know. Every weekday, I send a fun fact and the story behind it to the readers who, since, have so graciously invited me into their inboxes each morning. My first two books were offshoots of that email newsletter, and since then I’ve made a (small) name for myself as a purveyor of trivia. I love learning new things and sharing them with others. 

But my first real love isn’t trivia. It’s baseball.

I’ve been a baseball fan for as long as I can remember. I’ve never been particularly good at it — I once struck out in tee-ball (think about it…) but that shouldn’t be surprising. There’s a guy I’m not related to who played baseball a long time ago. We don’t know much about him personally except that his last name was Lewis and, in 1890, he was probably living in Buffalo that summer. On July 12th, the Brooklyn Ward’s Wonders were in town to play nine innings against the Buffalo Bisons. Somehow or another, the young mister Lewis convinced the Bison’s coach to not only give him a tryout but to give him a role on the team right then and there. And not only did the Bisons’ coach say okay, but he made Lewis the day’s starting pitcher. 

It went poorly.

In the first inning, Lewis gave up six runs. In the second, he gave up another six runs. In the third, he gave up eight runs. In the fourth? He was moved to left field for the remainder of the game. All told, he walked seven Wonders, gave up 13 hits (including three home runs), tossed a wild pitch, and left the mound down 20 to 5. For those who aren’t quick enough to break out the calculator, Lewis’s game — and, unsurprisingly, his career — ended with an ERA of 60.00. It is one of the worst pitching performances in baseball history, which brings me to the key lesson from that game:

Lewises were never meant to play baseball.

But I’m still enamored with the game. It’s beauty and the majesty is something I can always come back to. I study box scores. I marvel at the break of a curve ball. I yell at the television when the guy doesn’t slide or when the umpire blows a call. I once — as a kid, I promise — got so excited about a Darryl Strawberry home run that, in reenacting it, I pushed a window screen out of its frame from the 9th floor of an apartment building. (Don’t worry, no one was hurt; it got caught in a tree near the ground floor.) I once spent the better part of an afternoon, with the help of some Google searching and other baseballphiles on Twitter who I’ll likely never meet, trying to find out why, according to the history books, in the 1940s, a no-name player was intentionally walked with the bases loaded. (He probably wasn’t; the scorecard that data point was likely based on was probably wrong.)

I’m obsessed.

The more you watch baseball, the more you realize how elegant and unpredictable the game is. Things happen that you could never believe could happen; things you’ve never seen before –even in watching 162 or more games a year for two decades — take place right before your very eyes. Baseball, like the world of trivia I also adore, is filled with events and facts and stories and more that, to paraphrase Mark Twain, are too ridiculous to be made up, because they’re simply unbelievable.

And these things occur every day. Well, from April to October, at least.

In writing this book, I was surprised at how many stories there were that I, a devoted parishioner at the church of the four bases who spends his evenings drunk on trivia,  simply had never heard of before. Small facts, long stories, it didn’t really matter. There was so much out there that I didn’t know — and if there’s anyone out there living at the intersection of “odd stories” and “baseball,” well, it’d be me. If you’re a baseball fan, my hope is that your experience in reading these stories is the same one I had in writing them: you’ll find something in these pages that you didn’t know beforehand, wonder how that could be possible, and remember how special the game we call America’s pastime truly is — it never fails to surprise you.

Enjoy the book, and let’s go Mets.

Some Baseball Rules You’ve Probably Missed

The draft I have is a, to use the technical term, a “hot mess,” and I’ve used almost all of it in Now I Know stories since. There’s one I haven’t fully but it’s not something that non-baseball fans would appreciate; if you’re interested, reply to this email and I’ll share it privately. (A good indicator of whether you’d like it: you know who Tyler O’Neill is and why yesterday was Now I Know+Baseball worthy.)

But I had a few ideas I was tinkering with including, and “weird rules” as asides was one of them. Here are three. The last one is one of my favorite obscure baseball facts; I bring it up in baseball conversations as often as I can. Also, MLB has renumbered its rules a few times here and there, so I have no idea if the citations are still right. — Dan

Pitchers can’t use foreign substances to “intentionally discolor or damage the ball” pursuant to rule 3.01. The rule specifically references a few such substances — soil, sandpaper, emery paper, and… licorice. It’s not as absurd as it sounds — black licorice was once commonly used to mark up a ball, rendering it harder to see and therefore, harder to hit.

* * *

Let’s say there’s a soft line drive hit a few feet over the shortstop’s head. Thinking quickly, the shortstop throws either his cap or glove at the ball, knocking it down in an attempt to either catch it or, at least, keep the ball on the infield. The trick works, and the ball gently falls back to Earth where the shortstop makes the highlight-reel catch.

Is it an out? Nope. It’s going to turn the soft liner into a triple. According to rule 5.06(b)(4)(B) and (C), the batter is awarded three bases (and “may advance to home base at his peril”).  

* * *

You can get a shutout without tossing a complete game. Rule (9.18) says, in part: 

No pitcher shall be credited with pitching a shutout unless he pitches the complete game, or unless he enters the game with none out before the opposing team has scored in the first inning, puts out the side without a run scoring and pitches the rest of the game without allowing a run.

The most famous example of this came on June 23, 1917, when Babe Ruth took the mound as a pitcher for the Red Sox, walked the first batter, and was ejected for some reason. The runner was caught stealing shortly after the new pitcher, Ernie Shore entered the game, and Shore then retired the next 26 batters. But that’s not the only example. On May 31, 1988, Al Leiter took the mound for the Yankees against the A’s, but the young lefty’s day came to a screeching halt one pitch in. The leadoff batter, Carney Lansford, hit a line drive back up the middle, striking Leiter in the arm. Neil Allen, who went two and two-thirds two evenings earlier, came into the game in relief. Allen went nine innings, giving up three hits and no walks — and no runs — while striking out five. His season totals: zero complete games, but one shutout. 

The Baseball Stories I’ve Shared Here Previously

Here are some of the stories I’ve shared in this newsletter previously that likely would have been adapted for the book. They’re all baseball stories but you don’t need to be a baseball fan to appreciate any of them. There are a lot here, I’d click one or two randomly, unless you have a lot of time on your hands today. Some of the images on the older ones are broken; I’ll fix those this weekend if time permits. — Dan

The Now I Know Week In Review

Monday: Ring The Bell For Fish: How you can help migratory fish in the Netherlands.

Tuesday: X-Ray Vision, For Reading Books: Not really x-rays, I know.

Wednesday: The Padre for Life: A baseball story not listed above 😀

Thursday: The People Who Buy Airplane Tickets But Don’t Want to Fly: “Dummy tickets” and how/why to use them.

Long Reads and Other Things

Here are a few things you may want to check out over the weekend:

1) “For John Green, It’s Tuberculosis All the Way Down” (New York Times/gift link, 26 minutes, March 2025). Reader Bill K. told me that this week, the world noted World Tuberculosis Day (March 24). John Green, the YouTuber and brother of friend-of-Now I Know Hank Green, is on a mission to bring TB awareness back. He has a book out on the topic, reviewed by the Times here, and — as Bill K. shared! — a video arguing that World War I was caused, in part, by TB, here. (Want the book? You can get that here.)

2) “Inside the Fight to Save the World’s Most Endangered Wolf” (Garden and Gun, 17 minutes, April/May 2025). Despite the publication date, this is not from the future.

3) “Every License Plate In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Has Meaning” (Slashfilm, 6 minutes, August 2022). A great movie and license plate trivia? Sign me up! (Also, is Ferris Bueller technically a baseball movie? … Nah.)

Have a great weekend!

Dan