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Stranger to the Game: The Autobiography of Bob Gibson

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"Stranger to the Game" can be enjoyed on at least two different levels. On one level, fans get all the details they need about Gibson and his journey with the St. Louis Cardinals from 1959-1975: the early struggles with racist manager Solly Hemus; Gibson's relationship with catcher Tim McCarver; lessons learned by the Cards in their strong run at the pennant in 1963, and the fruits of those lessons in '64; the frustrating seasons of 1965 and '66; the powerhouse Cards of '67 and '68, punctuated by what might have been the greatest pitching performance of all time in 1968, by the author; and the gradual decline of both Gibson's skills and the Cards. The early years of Gibson's life in Omaha, Neb. are interesting, too -- the influence of his older brother; the things he learned from playing basketball, etc.

But the book also offers some fascinating insights on what it means to be as fierce a competitor as Gibson was. On the field, especially when combined with great talent and intellect, it's a very powerful positive. But in so many other areas -- dealing with the press, trying to get and maintain other jobs in baseball after retirement, coping with the foolish things people do in everyday life, and perhaps even marriage -- it has been a detriment to Gibson. Several times in the book, he is appalled that people see him as "the meanest man to play baseball" (in the words of one fan who approached him in public). It doesn't make sense to him that people would fail to see that his angry demeanor on the mound, and when dealing with most opposing players off it, were designed for a very specific effect, one that made absolute sense in the context of his profession. Even within the limits of the diamond, people sometimes forget that while Gibson hit 90 batters with pitches, Don Drysdale hit 154, and Jim Bunning hit 160.

The racial element of course serves to underscore this misunderstanding, in Gibson's view. Those determined to see a black man as threatening are that much more likely to be unable to separate job-specific toughness with a person's normal everyday persona. This, as much or more than anything else, has kept Gibson on the periphery of baseball since his retirement.

Throughout sports, one of the key issues confronting any athlete is how, and when, to turn off the mindset he or she must cultivate for the playing field. In some ways, a competitve approach to life in general is certainly desirable, as so many of our daily struggles are battles, to one degree or another. Gibson portrays himself as being able to flip this switch on or off, depending on the situation. Others disagree.

Several years after "Stranger to the Game" was published, Gibson, at 66, had a physical altercation with a motorist (can there be any doubt who won?) who cut him off in traffic. The incident suggests that Gibson's competitive fires, perhaps combined with the machismo so intertwined with competition for most male athletes, still rage as intensely as ever.

What haunted me about "Stranger to the Game" is that I think there should be more room, both in baseball and outside of it, for someone who takes Gibson's approach to things.

Yep, that's what I said as a Cubs fan in my youth. Whenever St. Louis was in town and I checked to see who the starting pitcher for the Cardinals would be. Man, did this guy ever break my heart... again and again!

Now, in retrospect, I can appreciate his greatness. (Though the painful memories of how he often made my Cubbies look like Little League hitters still lingers a bit). The greatness I admire most today, however, lies not in his pitching talent (superb as it was). Rather, I see his real legacy as one who refused to buckle under to the forces of racism; one who again and again challenged the flawed thinking of both overt racists and even unintentional racists. This book reveals a lot about baseball, but so much more about Gibson the man. He is in the same mold as other great athletes, like Clemente and Ali, who transcended their sport, and made a mark on society as well.

But some things are STILL unforgivable -- Why did he have to be so brutal on my Cubbies?!!

During elementary school, 1972-1976, baseball was myth to me. The players were larger than life. Baseball cards were treasured. The World Series was something I looked forward to every year. I loved my Dodgers. I read Baseball Digest.
I studied those baseball cards and Digests, and I got the impression that this Bob Gibson guy was pretty good.
A few years later, I noted he was in the Hall of Fame.
Years passed, I did the whole medical school thing, yadda yadda yadda and baseball got away from me. The strike didn't help.
Then, whether it was the McGwire/Sosa chase, or I was just ready to come back, my interest in baseball expanded. Now I was reading every book I could on the subject.
A grateful patient gave me an autographed baseball. I've never owned an autographed baseball, but I must admit, holding it felt like I was holding something with a strange energy. It was charmed. Almost magical.
It was signed by "Bob Gibson". (He gave me another signed by Lou Brock too...)
I went back and found my old baseball cards, and then sought out older Gibson cards.
Then I found this book.
This is a highly opinionated, often bitter, tell-it-like-it-is autobiography from a pitcher so good, they changed the game. They actually physically changed baseball because Bob Gibson was too good.
I simplify, but only a bit.
I smiled reading the account of his childhood, in Omaha, Nebraska.
That's where I went to medical school...at Creighton, which is where Mr. Gibson went.
He was a player who only wanted to win. To compete. To dominate.
AND he played for The Harlem Globetrotters. Seriously. Right before he joined up with the Cardinals.
He spent his entire career with the Cardinals. I wish people stayed with their teams more nowadays. You'll read about his fight against racism and bigotry; he followed bravely in Jackie Robinson's footsteps. They're cut from similar cloth.
He became the most feared pitcher in baseball.
Not because he was unafraid to use the brushback, which he did and did well. It was because batters often felt beat as they stepped into the batter's box. He would routinely strike out the side on ten or eleven pitches. He pitched complete games, even when they went into extra innings. He won twenty games a year, regularly.
Then came 1968. He was, as it is said, the Pitcher of The Year in the Year of the Pitcher. Only five players hit over .300 that year. Gibson's league-leading ERA was 1.12. That's almost not fair.
He mentions how proud he was of the fact that he could hit; he's the last pitcher to win 20 games and hit over .300 as well. One year, he hit more home runs than any other Cardinal but two. Yes, a sad comment on the lack of power amongst the rest of the team, but still.
He is sometimes profane, controversial, thorny, uncompromising but somehow still admirable.
I think his prickly personality may have overshadowed his amazing career. He defends himself (as if he needs defending) but remains unapologetic.
I couldn't stop reading this book.
He is an essential character in the story of baseball. He is the link from old style, confrontational, rough and tumble baseball of the 40's and 50's and the power pitchers of today. I'm talking specifically Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson and perhaps Eric Gagne.
He was overpowering. His legend deserves better.
Read this book.

I am Bob's eldest offspring, Renee Gibson. I'm writing this review for 2 reasons. One is about the book itself; second is to comment about a review by DBW in Oakland, CA. Being it that I experienced most parts of this book, I was moved across the spectrum of emotions, which makes it good. Many things I knew, some I learned for the first time. The single thing that made me not rate this book a 4 or 5 was solely because the offspring who was there at the time has never been asked for their comments or opinions, maybe because we are females? My brother, Chris who I love dearly, was all over the book; I was in California. I was a natural athlete who understood the game as well as anybody, played softball for many years, and had funny inside information about my father. DBW was correct about something, and I'm risking much to say that my father is as mean off the field as he was on the field. He hated to lose ... anything! When I find a ghost-writer for my autobiography, you'll get to know more details. Of course he may not see himself this way, and I understand why. But, it's true. Otherwise, I enjoyed reading his second book from a non-fan's point of view (smile).

I am Bob's eldest offspring, Renee Gibson. I'm writing this review for 2 reasons. One is about the book itself; second is to comment about a review by DBW in Oakland, CA. Being it that I experienced most parts of this book, I was moved across the spectrum of emotions, which makes it good. Many things I knew, some I learned for the first time. The single thing that made me not rate this book a 4 or 5 was solely because the offspring who was there at the time has never been asked for their comments or opinions, maybe because we are females? My brother, Chris who I love dearly, was all over the book; I was in California. I was a natural athlete who understood the game as well as anybody, played softball for many years, and had funny inside information about my father. DBW was correct about something, and I'm risking much to say that my father is as mean off the field as he was on the field. He hated to lose ... anything! When I find a ghost-writer for my autobiography, you'll get to know more details. Of course he may not see himself this way, and I understand why. But, it's true. Otherwise, I enjoyed reading his second book from a non-fan's point of view (smile).

Bob Gibson was my hero as a kid growing up in suburban St Louis; his competitive desire and his raw athletic ability made him one of the game's greatest players, as well as one of its most misunderstood legends. Certainly, Gibson was a fierce competitor; embittered by the racial prejudice and hypocrisy he witnessed throughout his life, and disillusioned by the harsh reality of life after his retirement from the game as an active player in 1975, where meaningful jobs in baseball's elite fraternity of "management" were practically nonexistent.

This is a man of immense pride and tremendous knowledge of the game; but apparently, his public personna has him unfairly labeled as a malcontent who has difficulty getting along with people. Nothing could be further from the truth; however, people who know little of the man's character; his unyielding level of honesty and integrity; have unfairly portrayed him as a surly, ill-tempered individual, who was regarded as one of the game's meanest players.

Why is that? From what I can gather, it's simply because Bob Gibson has the audacity to be direct; there are no hidden agendas with this man; he tells it like it is, and that includes revealing his disdain for shallow and superficial people; society is filled with those types of people, and the upper echelon of the world of baseball also has its share, to be sure.

Gibson's raw perspective of his life - before, during and after his major league career is a fascinating story, and one of significant historical enlightenment, from a Hall of Fame career in baseball, to his observations on society in general. His story is one of triumph and bittersweet travail; in the end, the reader will have a great deal of respect for the man who many baseball fans in St Louis still regard as their favorite all-time player. I thank him for his accomplishments on and off the field; and I thank him for writing such a moving memoir.

My first year of following baseball was 1967, when I was a young kid. I tuned in at the end of the season. That year Bob Gibson beat the Boston Red Sox three times to bring the St. Louis Cardinals the World Championship. After the ace righthander had beaten the Detroit Tigers twice in the 1968 Series in dominating fashion, I was convinced there was no way he would lose the 7th game. When he did, I was dumbstruck. During his career, from 1959 to 1975, Gibson's will to win was matched by no one. He had a reputation for being very mean, being willing to knock hitters down, and not talking to hitters. In his introduction to "Stranger to the Game," co-author Lonnie Wheeler states, "[i]f Gibson's speed was memorable -- and it was -- his fierceness was legendary."

Gibson discusses this image candidly in this book. It is mostly chronological, covering his background and baseball seasons, ending with his mixed results in obtaining non-player positions in baseball. For me, the best chapter is Chapter VIII, in which Gibson interrupts the narrative to discuss his attitudes about pitching, brushbacks and all, along with dealings with hitters. He insists that for him, the brushback served only to notify the batter that part of the plate was the pitcher's, rather than being a tactic to scare the hitter. Funny, but anecdotes in the book, including Gibson's own, often have him brushing back or hitting someone in response to something, as in common experience. But Gibson concedes, "I don't deny that I played with a chip on my shoulder." As for not talking to hitters, Orlando Cepeda recounts that on one occasion after Gibson singled, Cepeda, his former teammate, said something friendly at first base, to which Gibson replied, "Don't talk to me now. You're my enemy until we get off this field." Gibson makes it clear: "Intensity, to me, was a matter of focus and desire and energy and power, all packed into nine hellacious innings... Intensity was never letting up....Intensity, as I knew it, was the will to win."

A cool thing about this book is how it is packed with lengthy italicized quotations about Gibson from opponents, teammates, and others, always acknowledging his formidable bearing. For example, Richie Ashburn states: "He had a menacing, glowering intensity that more than occasionally deepened into a sneer ... His intimidating demeanor...put him in a class by himself." It is great, even amusing, to read this stuff, which reminds me of the scene in "Blazing Saddles" when it was said of Mongo: "Shooting him will only make him madder."

But Gibson the man is not all mean, and in both this book and his previous autobiography "From Ghetto to Glory" I got a picture of someone who did have a regard for others when off the mound. Gibson even picks Juan Marichal as the best pitcher of his time ("he could do things with the baseball that nobody else could") rather than himself, and acknowledges that Koufax was the best for five years. But, Gibson notes, Marichal was not first in mean streak and will to win. As might be expected, there is a lot of discussion about racism: for Gibson growing up; during baseball traveling in the South; in Gibson's early years as a player, from manager Solly Hemus and others; and in housing, employment, and business. Gibson is an intelligent man and wants to be recognized as such, and his writing about racism never has struck me as nasty or petty but as a plea for fairness. A man of character, Gibson is ready to retort when it is called for. He relates how he lashed out at a ballplayer who made an anti-semitic remark during a tour of military hospitals.

Still, Gibson was often surly and abrasive, to baseball writers and others, and it came back to haunt him after his retirement when he wanted jobs in baseball. He did manage to get coaching jobs for the Mets and Braves under former teammate Joe Torre, although they were later fired. Gibson observes, "it's possible, perhaps even likely, that in the baseball community my difficulties have had more to do with reputation [than racism]." He was denied approval by the Cardinals' front office for the manager's position at the Triple-A Louisville Redbirds, although the Redbirds' owner wanted him. Gibson observes, "[u]nable to keep my career alive like so many of the tobacco spitters on the old-boy network, who seem to get hired every time they're fired, I haven't had a job in baseball since [his second firing]." (He did get a broadcasting job.) Gibson's problem was deeper: People would come up to him to joke about his being the "meanest man to ever play baseball," or simply to tell him, "Go to hell."

Gibson was admirable in many ways, but it seems somewhere he crossed a line he did not have to. There have been many people that were fierce competitors in terms of their will to win and who did, but still kept a friendly demeanor. Jackie Robinson was like this: He even congratulated the Yankees in their locker room after a Brooklyn World Series loss. Jack Nicklaus has always struck me as really competitive but a nice man too. Was Gibson somewhat psychotic about winning, in the manner of Ty Cobb? He is better person than Cobb, but it is regrettable that aspects of his personality did not improve.

Mr. Gibson reminds us of the good things about baseball the way it was and scolds the game for its shortcomings. His musings on what it takes to make a man and a game using memories of his career are especially poignent in light of the game baseball has become. Kudos to Mr. Gibson, an intelligent, articulate man whose umcompromising principles are an example to our children as to what a hero ought to be

A good sports autobiography. Book is sprinkled by short memorances of Gibson by his colleagues (Joe Torre, Tim McCarver, Curt Flood, others) -- an interesting and effective mechanism.

...covering breaking into the big leagues black in the 1950s
and highlights of the 1960s MLB. Competitive force of Gibson
comes through in his slightly biased and semi-confessional
bio.