This is the book that goes where no other “Black Sox” book has dared to go. Instead of being satisfied with merely re-telling the story we’ve heard so many times before, Mr. Carney begins with an intriguing premise: The only cover-ups we ever hear about are the ones that failed. The Black Sox coverup nearly didn’t fail. Why?

Using the latest in research technology and a dogged unwillingness to settle for what seems obvious, Carney picks the whole ugly scenario apart. Who knew, for example, that one of the most damning articles written on the subject wasn’t published until 1935? (Hugh Fullerton waited till Charlie Comiskey was dead to explain how much Comiskey knew — and when.)

I’ve known Gene Carney for many years and have always known him to be a solid researcher, a clean, fine writer and an engaging personality. His Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown is consistently friendly and edifying. (When he writes about baseball travel, we often reprint him on this site.) To see him apply those skills to a subject as slippery as the 1919 World Series is a delight. Burying the Black Sox is his crowning achievement (at least so far) and is one of the best pieces of baseball research to come along in quite a while.

A unique baseball celebration took place on June 3 in Hamilton, N.Y., when favorite son Hooks Wiltse was honored. For more information on the former New York Giants pitcher and the event, visit Radio Free Hamilton or Gene Carney's Notes from the Shadows of Cooperstown.

In March 1980, the year after the Bucs won the World Series, I had a magazine assignment on Pirate pitchers Rick Rhoden and Don Robinson. But the second day I was there the players went on strike. They continued to play intrasquad games, free to the public, but the stands had only a handful of diehards, and me.

The ballpark in Bradenton sits right on the corner of Ninth Street West and 17th Avenue. Right across the avenue from the ballpark, just behind the third base stands, was a car dealership. The concrete block building with the office had a large plate glass window in front.

The game was underway. I was sitting on the first base side, the better to see the pitchers and engage in some friendly chat. Mike Easler was at bat, and he popped a high foul out of the park over third. An instant later there was a huge crash. Obviously the plate glass window was no more. For an instant the guys on the field behaved as all kids have done for years when breaking a window – they stopped as if to run.

They were poised there, all of them, when a huge roar of laughter erupted from a huge man. It was Willie Stargell, the first to grasp the joke that they were all afraid of getting caught when in fact any one of them could have bought the entire dealership out of that week’s paycheck. Before long they were all convulsed in laughter. These supremely talented (and wealthy) young men had become little boys playing ball in front of my eyes.

I’ll never forget it.

There has been plenty of eloquent waxing about how much fun spring training is. Although my experience is limited to the west coast of Florida, some tips hold true. A few things I learned – some the hard way.

1. Don’t count on being able to walk up a few minutes before game time and buy a reasonable ticket. Some games sell out the previous November. Even those which don’t can have the few good seats snapped up quickly. If you can, buy your game tickets when you buy your plane tickets on line.

2. The sun is hot. It can burn you. It’s awfully easy for snowbirds to want to bask in the bleachers instead of under cover in the more expensive seats. If you love the sun, make sure you wear heavy duty sunscreen and a cap.

3. With few exceptions (the hot pretzels in Bradenton), ballpark food in Florida isn’t like it is in the big cities. But spring training parks are oftentimes surrounded by local sandwich shops or pizza places. Eat there before, or take in a sandwich if you want a decent meal.

4. Don’t rush. Give yourself plenty of time. Half the fun of Florida spring baseball is enjoying the experience at leisure and gabbing with the folks around you. You might meet some people from your hometown.

While spring training has gotten more corporate and cold, it’s still a wonderful early spring vacation. You can’t hardly get closer to the players. The look on a pitcher’s face after being removed mid-inning (severe verboten in spring training) after another bad performance can be heartbreaking.

The first time I visit a new (for me) ballpark I follow the same routine I have developed over my years as a baseball wanderer. The first thing I do is buy a beer – the local brew favored by the locals. I’ll need fortification to for my trek. Then my next step is straight up. I always go directly to the highest point I can find. That’s where you get your views. You can check out the color of the grass, and the size and sophistication of the scoreboard (The Giants' ballpark in San Francisco – who knows what the name is this week? – has twelve stat categories for each pitcher and batter.) From the top you can also get a good view of the neighborhood. I’m always interested to see what kinds of development have taken hold around a new park. Especially because I could name about a dozen authorities who will tell you such things never happen, that ballparks are a drag on their communities, not engines for economic growth.

Then I start heading back down. A second beer may be necessary. I stop at each level, checking out the views of the field again and the location of the food and collectibles stands. The last stop is usually a close to home plate as I can get without being bullied by a smelly usher, to get a feel for what it would be like to play a game (or umpire one) at that place.

Of course at minor league or college parks there isn’t that much to climb, and the vistas aren’t as spectacular, but the smells are often better.

I once stumbled across a pamphlet which told you how to behave if you owned or were planning to buy a minor league team. The booklet was published in the 1950s, so most of what it said was terribly out of date, quaint, even.

But there was a delicious several-paragraph discussion of whether you should grill your hot dogs for the customers, or whether boiling was the better option. Seems that studies have shown (or someone said) that people are more likely to order a second hot dog if they’re boiled. Which is swell, except that the absence of odor (vis-à-vis grilling) means that fewer people will buy their first one. So the question stands: do you want to sell more first dogs to the fans, or do you want to sell fewer first dogs and more seconds?

I’m sure today’s professional concessionaires probably have figured that one out by now.