BASEBALL

OL’ DIZ: A Biography of Dizzy Dean by Vince Staten (HarperCollins: $22.50; 326 pp.) and DIZ: Dizzy Dean and Baseball During the Great Depression by Robert Gregory (Viking: $22; 371 pp.). Who learned to pitch by pegging rocks at squirrels (left-handed, because “I throw so hard with my right that I squash them squirrels somethin’ terrible and they ain’t fit eatin’ then”)? Who, while pitching in the minors, hit a home run; then, when yanked for a relief pitcher, climbed up into the scoreboard and removed the one-run marker on the grounds that “If I can’t pitch, you can’t have my run”? Who pawned his St. Louis Cardinal uniform for $13, made a Popsicle-stick bonfire in front of his dugout in 102-degree heat, told the great Hank Greenberg to “unlax a bit” and, just for kicks, led his Gas House Gang to a World Series victory in 1934 with a 30-7 record?

Jay Hanna Dean is who, or Jerome Herman Dean; born Jan. 16, 1911, or Feb. 22 or Aug. 22; in Lucas, Ark., or Bond, Miss., or Holdenville, Okla. (Diz liked sportswriters and gave each one a scoop.) Five decades later, they’re still trying to pin him down. Vince Staten tries, with a curious combination of anecdote and iconoclasm. Robert Gregory tries, in a better-written but less amusing biography. Both have their moments, but in the end, both are left at the plate, bats on shoulders, wondering what went past them.

His career truncated by a broken toe, Diz, a Hall of Famer, took his act to the airwaves, where he’s remembered for announcing that “the runners return to their respectable bases,” hitters “wait confidentially in the on-deck circle,” and Ted Williams is “as tough to cut down as Houston honeysuckle.” Dumb? Not really. Asked, “Don’t you know the king’s English,” Diz replied, “Sure I do, and so’s the queen.”