I seem to remember enjoying Kahn’s baseball writing in the past — I know I read The Boys of Summer years ago — but this one is too fond of itself by half and goes off on too many tangents.   I wanted to read about the ’78 Yankee season, but that part wound up feeling like more of a framing device than anything else; the actual season’s narrative is too slight, and there’s far too much digressing on Stengel and John McGraw (who, I’d note, Kahn never explicitly identifies; I know who he is, but I read the Fireside series twice.   Not every fan is like me and knows Christy Mathewson).   Roger Angell’s baseball writing is starting to seem like this to me too, now, as he’s aging — that it’s an excuse to sigh nostalgically for other things.   His other writing hasn’t lost a step, but the baseball stuff has gotten purple, and I don’t know if Kahn was always like this…but if you’re going to think so highly of yourself, don’t misspell “Piniella.”   (1/5/05)

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