Yet later that evening, as we were going to press, Nolan Ryan pitched the seventh no-hitter of his career. On the fly, we gave both future Hall of Famers their due and proved that we could do the job on deadline. Our conference room soon became adorned with covers from previous weeks, with corresponding circulation numbers.
We were at or near , at the height of our popularity. Despite the long hours, characteristic of any start-up, we found time to go through the previous paper page by page at our weekly staff meetings. In most journalism jobs, you are so consumed by the need to move on to the next thing that you seldom have a chance to reflect as we did at BBW. We needed those moments to reflect, to become better, because the grand old game was about to test us again.
As our inaugural season came down the home stretch, two memorable story lines played out in both leagues. The season marked the first time a cellar-dweller from the previous season became champion the next year. On our watch, lighting had struck twice, thanks to a pair of worst-to-first ballclubs.
To up the ante, the World Series between the Braves and Twins was one of the best ever. It went seven games with five decided by one run, three decided in walk-off fashion, which was a new term back then, and Game 7 a scoreless tie heading into extra innings until the Twins took it all with a victory. As a staff, we rose to the challenge of chronicling a World Series for the ages. In the seasons ahead, we gained a reputation for being insightful, sometimes irreverent and always loyal to our readers.
So, when do you know a publication has really made it? Certainly you watch the circulation numbers. White remembers Bob Dylan photographed reading Baseball Weekly in a convenience store. My favorite "a-ha moment" came sometime during the playoffs after that first season. I was often seated next to Roger Angell of The New Yorker , another who would be enshrined in Cooperstown, in the auxiliary press box.
I read it every week. Within months, Wendel found easy access to players and general managers in most places he visited, and framed covers hanging on the walls. Back in Arlington, Virginia, a staff of less than 20 put the issues together on Monday nights, pulling long shifts to make sure every detail was correct.
Lee Ivory was among the leaders of the publication, serving as a longtime executive editor and publisher. Then and now, it has been a labor of love. The original publisher, Thomas Farrell, recommended the staff do an article just inside the issue that served as a welcome letter to readers. White had a wonderfully conversational style that explained the game in a well-informed yet light-hearted way. It's been way too long since I've shared one of the coolest pics ever - Bob Dylan in a convenience store reading Baseball Weekly.
We know many of you began with us in those early days and have remained loyal throughout the years as we have evolved into Sports Weekly. We have learned of your passion for baseball — especially after an ill-fated decision to drop baseball stats for a spell — and other sports over the years through your emails and calls. We learned even more about you a little over a year ago, when a pandemic shut down sports and we continued to publish.
Yes, you love those stats, but the in-depth stories still matter, too, especially when they can take you away from what is going on in the world.
And of course it was great to read Mark Medina on my beloved Chicago Bulls of the 90s! Even a short article like Mike Brehm's on the loss of Colby Cave a hockey player who died at 25 after having a brain bleed was something we didn't get anywhere else. And of course, there's always the excellence in the writing of your stalwarts, Nancy Armour and Bob Nightingale! Keep that up, you guys! We need it! They include those stats, box scores for baseball and other sports, a fantasy presence and in-season baseball notes on every team.
A network of freelance writers, one for each team, was quickly developed to streamline the process. One of them, based in Southern California, was Nightengale.
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