SAN FRANCISCO — I have long been fascinated by the 1962 Mets, always considering them baseball’s ultimate lovable losers.
I blame Roger Angell. And my dad, the late Dusty Saunders.
In the sports library in my home office, I have an autographed copy of Angell’s classic book, “The Summer Game.” My dad gave me the book when I was in my teens and was first interested in becoming a sportswriter.
So “The Summer Game” was my inspiration, and my curse, because I have never come close to being the writer Angell was. Nor my dad, for that matter.