By Bob Markus

Baseball is still America's pastime. Always was. Always will be. Pro football's Super Bowl may draw the largest world-wide audience on a single day, but baseball, with its endless summer, is still more deeply imbedded in the soul of our nation. Nobody ever wrote the lyric "Where Have You Gone, John Unitas," or a book called "The Boys of Autumn." There is something about baseball, the timeless, balletic beauty of a well-turned double play, the eternal cat-and-mouse game of the pitcher vs. batter, the ear-splitting C-R-A-A-C-K that signals a ball struck with authority--a homer for sure--as well as the hollow T-H-U-U-M-P of a 100-mile-an hour fastball as it smacks into the catcher's mitt--STRIKE THREE, YER OUT--that no other sport can match.

The baseball beat is still the most coveted on every major newspaper in every major league town, unless it be South Florida, where I currently live, paying for the right to wear shorts in January with the short shrift given to the Marlins--who have won two world championships during a stretch where the beloved and much favored Dolphins have won none. Here, a torn toe nail suffered by the backup quarterback trumps a grand slam homer by Hanley Ramirez any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Too bad, because the Marlins have put together an exciting young team and deserve better.

Having covered every major beat--except the Bulls--over a 36-year career at the Chicago Tribune, I can tell you that the baseball beat is by far the most challenging and, consequently, the most satisfying. There is nothing more shattering than the dreaded midnight call from the office informing you that the Sun-Times has just reported that the baseball strike is over and where were you at (Marvin) Miller time? There is nothing more exhilerating than pushing the send button on a story that you know is going to pay back the Sun Times beat guy in hearts as well as spades. One such opportunity came one Sunday afternoon in Oakland, where White Sox manager Tony LaRussa approached me and said, "I've been watching you and I like the way you work, so I'm going to give you a story." He then proceeded to tell me that he was putting starter Richard Dotson in the bullpen as the closer for the second half of the season. Lamarr Hoyt would take his place in the rotation. I interviewed Dotson and Hoyt for their reactions and filed my story before the start of a scheduled double header, smugly noticing that the Sun Times beat man had yet to show up at the ball park. It wasn't until I got back to Chicago that I found out the geniuses on the copy desk had thrown the story out after one edition and didn't even have the sense to include it in the White Sox Notes.

Covering baseball is a 24-7 job that starts on the first day of spring training and ends never. Once, covering the Cubs, I spent a week of my vacation in Orlando Cepeda's house in Puerto Rico, while collaborating with Orlando on his autobiography. One day a headline in the Spanish language newspaper caught my eye and although my Spanish is limited I was able to decipher that the Cubs had just acquired pitcher Steve Trout in a trade with the White Sox. Very interesting, I thought, and went back to watching Cepeda sleep while I waited to continue our interview. When I got back home and made one of my infrequent visits to the office I was chastized for not reporting in on the Trout story. The only beat that comes close to baseball for degree of difficulty is the Indianapolis 500 and that lasts only for three weeks.

While many sports fans were looking forward to Monday's NCAA championship game, I was eagerly anticipating the opening of the baseball season. I got into the baseball mood a few weeks ago as I was checking out some groceries in the neighborhood Publix. While waiting for the woman in front of me to pay for a pile of groceries that would have fed the entire population of Ft. Lauderdale for a week, I noticed on the magazine rack a picture of Albert Pujols on the cover of a paper-back-book sized volume. It was the 2009 Who's Who in Baseball and it brought back all sorts of memories. As a boy I used to get each year's new edition and go through it avidly. I don't remember how much it cost, but I'd guess 50 cents. I noticed that the current price is $9.95. Should I or shouldn't I? I did.

I have to admit that, until I sat down to write today's blog I hadn't looked at it much. I probably won't look at it much in the future, but it is still a fine reference work and will serve as a bridge between my 1995 edition of the Baseball Enclopedia and today's players. In my cursory inspection of Who's Who I quickly found one item of at least mild interest. Red Sox pitcher John Smoltz, who has been pitching professionally since 1986, has spent only one year in a northern city--1987, in Glens Falls, N.Y., when he was a Detroit Tigers farm hand. He was traded near the end of that season to the Atlanta braves for pitcher Doyle Alexander and spent the rest of that year, and the beginning of 1988, in Richmond, the Braves' Triple A affiliate. The rest of his sure-to-be Hall of Fame career has been in Atlanta. Now he's with the Red Sox, about as far north as you can get and still be in the United States.

Who's Who has been around for nearly a century and it has changed somewhat. A friend of mine has a 1933 copy (for which he could get $85 if it were in mint condition--it isn't--and if he wanted to sell it--he doesn't.) Back then, the Who's Who was more than a compendium of major league players' stats. In addition to listing each player's baseball numbers, the 1933 Who's Who listed home addresses. So if you wanted to write to Babe Ruth, or even visit him, you could go to 345 W. 88th St., NYC and have a beer with The Babe. Lou Gehrig's address was listed as 9 Meadow Ln., New Rochelle, NY. Outfielder Mule Haas, who hit 305 the previous year for the Philadelphia Athletics and was about to be traded to the Chicago White Sox, could be reached at 109 Valley Rd., in Montclair, N.J., the city where he was born.

In addition to players, the 1933 edition listed managers, coaches, umpires, even baseball beat writers and sports editors. Among the latter was Arch Ward, who once was sports editor of the Dubuque Telegraph Herald, and later, more famously, sports editor of the Chicago Tribune. In the latter capacity he would one day interview me for a job on The Tribune sports desk. I didn't get it. But that is a story for another day.