As anyone who grew up in the San Joaquin Valley can tell you, William Saroyan was a celebrated Depression-era author and playwright from Fresno, California. In 1940, Saroyan won the Pulitzer Prize for his play "The Time of Your Life." Three years later, the Mickey Rooney film "The Human Comedy" netted Saroyan an Academy Award for "Best Story" (essentially "Best Original Screenplay") despite massive changes from the studio. In fact, Saroyan was fired from the film after he turned in his first draft and so, to counter a movie he didn't agree with, he hurriedly wrote and published his version of the story as a novel under the same name. His book would later lead to a successful off-Broadway musical forty years later.

Saroyan might not receive the same kind of accolades as his contemporaries like John Steinbeck anymore (outside of Fresno-area schools, at least), but he was a talented writer who was very skilled at capturing the everyday life of his rural upbringing. In the post-war world, however, he was criticized for being too idealistic and sentimental in his writings.

William Saroyan was also a baseball fan. That sentimentality, while helpful in winning Pulitzers and Oscars, kept him firmly in the anti-stats crowd. In response to an August 2, 1954, article by Branch Rickey called "Goodby to Some Old Baseball Ideas", the playwright wrote this letter to LIFE magazine:


People go to ball games to see beauty. The game's appeal lies in its ability to compel frequent demonstrations of personal genius, or "clutch", as Branch Rickey puts it. Two events are supremely beautiful: the strikeout and the home run. Each is a difficult and unlikely thing flawlessly achieved before your eyes.

Rickey's statistics reveal truths fairly well known to all fans, including kids. But the important factor in baseball is who's involved, how he's involved, or who's on first. Statistics only make life seem statistical, which apparently it is not. It is probably personal and anarchist like a double play…

The game is a major achievement of the human race. It is the whole human contest placed upon a small perfectly-designed field, and oversimplified into a dancelike ritual… Its best friends are art and religion, not science.

William Saroyan
Malibu, Calif.

"Art and religion, not science…" While I certainly disagree with my fellow Fresnan's opinions on "Rickey's statistics", that last paragraph of his letter is one of the best descriptions of baseball I've ever heard. "…The whole human contest placed upon a small perfectly-designed field…" Please, keep going, Mr. Saroyan.