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What: “Every Pitcher Tells a Story”

Author: Seth Swirsky

Publisher: Time Books ($25.95)

I remember in college at Fresno State a journalism professor’s assignment was to write to a newspaper columnist or someone else in the business and do a report on the reply. The professor assured his students that most would reply. I wrote to Jim Murray, and, yes, he replied.

Swirsky, a songwriter of some note who lives in Beverly Hills, tried that with baseball players and dignitaries, and the result was his first book, “Baseball Letters.” This, his second book, consists of 100-plus letters, mostly from pitchers or someone talking about pitching, and it is fascinating reading.

Most of the letters are replies to Swirsky, but some, such as one from Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis sent to “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, were obtained through other means. All letters are reproduced as they originally appeared. Some are hard to read, such as one from Bill “Spaceman” Lee, so all are printed typographically in the back of the book.

There are also photos of the letter writers, including such old-timers as Zack Wheat, Waite Hoyt and women’s professional pitcher Jean Faut.

The book’s first letter is from Montreal pitcher Carl Pavano, who was a rookie when he gave up Mark McGwire’s 70th home run in 1998. The second is from Steve Carlton, who writes, “Looking back, I think that the writing was better and definitely more creative after I stopped speaking to the media.”

The third segment contains three “Peanuts” comic strips that Charles M. Schulz sent to Swirsky showing Charlie Brown trying to pitch in front of the “little red-haired girl.”

There are letters from Chan Ho Park, Terry Collins, Pedro Martinez, Richard Nixon, Fay Vincent and Larry Yount, the older brother of Robin. Larry Yount was called up from the minors by the Houston Astros in 1971 and took himself out of a game during warmups because of a shoulder injury and never again pitched in the major leagues.

Possibly the most intriguing of the letters is from Carl Mays, as an 80-year-old, sent to a friend, explaining what happened on Aug. 16, 1920, the day popular Cleveland shortstop Ray Chapman was killed by one of Mays’ pitches. Mays writes that the pitch was over the plate. The letter is the only known account of Mays’ role in Chapman’s death.