Midnight Library of Baseball

A chance encounter involving the Hall of Fame plaque of Willie Mays leads to an audacious idea: reinvent baseball. In this episode, with the help of Gaines Johnson, I explore the strange and fascinating story behind the World Baseball League, and the possibility that the future of the game may look very different from its past.

In this season finale, I reflect on the surprising origin stories surrounding the advances in technology that made broadcasting in baseball possible. I also discuss the future path of broadcasting. As technology promises so much more, we’re left with an important question: What are we at risk of losing?

In the spirit of the World Baseball Classic, I put together an episode about this event, its origins, and the journey of one national team that has evolved along with the tournament. And what it means for people of different countries with different beliefs to connect and grow together, through baseball.

A catcher with a .200 batting average. A career WAR of negative one. In most cases, a résumé like that disappears into the dustbin of baseball history. But this player turned six seasons of mediocrity into a lifetime of fame, not by hiding his failures, but by turning them into comedy gold. This is the story of Bob Uecker, the man who made us laugh at baseball’s absurdity, and, in doing so, reminded us why it matters at all.

There was a time when a baseball broadcast asked nothing of you. No sponsors. No jingles. Just the game and the voice describing it. Then one day, a ten-second watch commercial changed everything, and we never noticed what we were giving away. This is the story of how ads didn’t interrupt baseball, and then they did, and it was too late.

Baseball has always been more than a game on television. It’s a doorway. In this episode, we move through three very different TV dramas: The Twilight Zone, The X-Files, and The Wonder Years, each using baseball to explore time, memory, loss, and the things we can’t quite explain. From childhood afternoons that never really end, to games haunted by what’s missing, these stories reveal why baseball keeps showing up when television wants to talk about the human condition.

Before the voice became familiar to millions, Ed Randall was just a New York City kid who was obsessed with baseball. In this episode, I talk with Randall about a story that is both unique and incredible, and also a blueprint for how to become a baseball broadcaster. His life is a tapestry of incredible connections, perseverance, and fantastic moments created by simply being himself. Come along for the ride that is Ed Randall.

For years, three voices defined the sound of Yankees baseball. Then one vanished. Then another. And finally, the last walked away. This episode investigates the unanswered questions behind the disappearances of Mel Allen, Red Barber, and Phil Rizzuto, and why their silences lingered longer than their calls.

Roger Maris broke Babe Ruth’s most sacred record, and baseball never forgave him. Labeled unfairly, burdened by an asterisk, and judged by a narrative that ignored the facts, Maris paid a heavy price for doing something history said couldn’t be done. In this episode, I revisit 1961 and the story baseball got wrong.

In this episode, I explore the strange and overlooked history of what has become an event that rivals the allstar game for American popularity. Through this history, we see how baseball has changed, and we might get a glimpse of what's to come with home run derbies of the future.

Jackie Robinson arrived at exactly the right moment, not just in baseball, but in media history. As television spread into American homes, Robinson became the first athlete millions didn’t just read about or hear on the radio, but watched. This episode tells the rarely discussed story of how television shaped Robinson’s fame, magnified the pressure he carried, and helped transform American culture in ways no box score could capture.

In the beginning, experts swore television would never matter. Viewers would tire of “staring at a plywood box.” Baseball could never be captured on one screen, and no one would trade the color of their imagination for grainy black-and-white flicker. And yet, one messy, chaotic, barely-watchable baseball experiment in 1939 sparked a revolution. In this episode, I trace the improbable origin story of baseball on television, from the fuzzy “little white flies” of the first broadcast to the national shared experiences that made America rush to buy a set for themselves. This is the story of how a single game, and a single swing, helped sell a country on an idea that would transform the future.

In the 1950s, baseball broadcasts on television were expanding, and this fairly new technology was starting to catch up to radio in sports coverage, until a groundbreaking innovation cemented radio for the next sixty years as the most flexible, reliable way to experience a game away from the ballpark. In this episode, I discuss the history of this breakthrough, along with some of the iconic personalities that benefited from the invisible waves that carried their voices to the most remote reaches of the country, and world.

Like broadcasts and broadcasters of the early days, the 1992 Simpsons episode, Homer at the Bat, shaped the lives of millions. It made people laugh, it connected people more deeply with their favorite sports heroes by humanizing these mythical figures, and it instilled a deeper curiosity for those on the periphery of the game. If you’re a fan of the Simpsons and baseball, there are many great stories about the making of this episode you won’t want to miss.

In this episode, I discuss the complicated relationship between radio and baseball, and how, when baseball was resisting, radio was sneaking in through every back door in America. I tell the stories of some iconic announcers of the day, like Red Barber, who nearly quit when he heard Branch Rickey was going to sign Jackie Robinson.

Step into the forgotten world of baseball recreation, a unique phenomenon created to fill an enormous void in baseball coverage during the 1920s to the 1950s, a strange blending of truth and fiction that connected millions to the game and their heroes, and introduced millions to a young recreator named Ronald Reagan, who cited baseball recreation as a valuable tool in his journey through American politics.

The story of Kelyn Ikegami developing and completing this documentary is as fascinating as the story itself: a bunch of ragtag minor leaguers relegated to the baseball graveyard, only to resurrect their story in legendary fashion. I really enjoyed our conversation just as I really enjoyed the documentary, which you can find on Apple TV and Amazon Prime. Links to film at Apple and Amazon

Before Graham McNamee, there was basic reporting of the game by broadcasters, and long dead silences between plays. But the opera singer turned broadcaster changed the way people listening to their radio interacted with the game, and he paved the way for the type of broadcasting we know and love today. Tune in to listen to this story and more.

Radio was floundering in its early days. People didn’t know what to make of it. Baseball owners were afraid of it, and for the first years of radio broadcasting, there was no banter, only dead air between plays. In the midst of this lull came an athlete and personality who bewitched a nation, and was single-handedly responsible for the spread of millions of radios across the country. But the reasons for the “Babe Ruth addiction” are not as obvious as they may seem.

In this first episode of Season 4, I discuss a lie I’ve been telling myself for 40 years about who my favorite team actually was, and I begin the amazing journey of baseball broadcasting. Before there was television, there was radio, and before that, there was the telegraph and the amazing broadcasting innovations that came from this limited technology, like scoreboard baseball, and ballgames performed, live, in opera houses. But the first radio broadcasts were missing one crucial ingredient.