Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

The fascinating story of baseball's legendary "Ironmen," two players from different eras who each achieved the coveted and sometimes confounding record of most consecutive games played

When Cal Ripken Jr. began his career with the Baltimore Orioles at age twenty-one, he had no idea he would someday beat the historic record of playing 2,130 games in a row, a record set forty-two years before by the fabled "Iron Horse" of the New York Yankees, Lou Gehrig. Ripken went on to surpass that record by 502 games, and the baseball world was floored. Few feats in sports history have generated more acclaim. But the record spawns an array of questions. When did someone first think it was a good idea to play in so many games without taking a day off? Who owned the record before Gehrig? Whose streak--Gehrig's or Ripken's--was the more difficult achievement?

Through probing research, meticulous analysis, and colorful parallel storytelling, The Streak delves into this impressive but controversial milestone, unraveling Gehrig's at-times unwitting pursuit of that goal (Babe Ruth used to think Gehrig crazy for wanting to play every game), and Ripken's fierce determination to stay in the lineup and continue to contribute whatever he could even as his skills diminished with age.

The question looms: How do these streaks compare? There were so many factors: the length of seasons, the number of teams in the major leagues, the inclusion of nonwhite players, travel, technology, medical advances, and even media are all part of the equation. This is a book that captures the deeply American appreciation--as seen in the sport itself--for a workaday mentality and that desire to be there for the game every time it called.

Table of contents provided by Syndetics

• Introduction (p. ix)
• 1 Ripken: A Victory Lap (p. 1)
• 2 Gehrig: The Ghost of 2,131 (p. 15)
• 3 Ironmen: First of Their Kind (p. 24)
• 4 Ripken: Blue-Collar Stock (p. 37)
• 5 Ironmen: Confusion (p. 49)
• 6 Ironmen: Deacon (p. 58)
• 7 Ripken: Influences (p. 70)
• 8 Gehrig: A Famous Headache (p. 84)
• 9 Gehrig: Playing Every Day (p. 98)
• 10 Ripken: A Sour Year (p. 109)
• 11 Gehrig: A Friend's Influence (p. 121)
• 12 Ironmen: The Blessing of Good Fortune (p. 131)
• 13 Ripken: A Guiding Philosophy (p. 142)
• 14 Gehrig: Playing Hurt (p. 153)
• 15 Ironmen: Shenanigans (p. 165)
• 16 Ripken: Toughing It Out (p. 174)
• 17 Gehrig: A Tragic Turn (p. 185)
• 18 Ironmen: Is It Really a Good Idea? (p. 198)
• 19 Ripken: Making History (p. 212)
• 20 Ironmen: The True Believer (p. 230)
• 21 Ripken: A Day Off, at Last (p. 239)
• 22 Ironmen: A Philosophical Change (p. 254)
• Epilogue (p. 269)
• Author's Note (p. 274)
• Source Notes (p. 277)
• Bibliography (p. 286)
• Index (p. 287)

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

1 Ripken   A Victory Lap     The fans sent wave after wave of cheers into a warm, late-summer night by the Chesapeake Bay, their ovation lasting three minutes, five, eight . . . so long that the umpires finally decided not to try to restart the game until the noise subsided. The Baltimore Orioles and California Angels had only played four and a half innings in Baltimore on September 6, 1995. Their game was just half over. And the longer the fans cheered, the more Cal Ripken Jr., the Orioles' shortstop, whose historic feat was being celebrated, was becoming embarrassed about the length of the delay.    The Orioles were out of the American League playoff race, but the Angels had a shot at winning their division, so it mattered that they trailed Baltimore by two runs at the brick-and-wrought-iron ballpark known as Oriole Park at Camden Yards. Their pitcher, Shawn Boskie, had warmed up for the bottom of the fifth inning. He was ready to go. His teammates were at their defensive positions, also ready. But the cheering for Ripken was so persistent that the game could not possibly resume, and now Boskie was cooling down, seemingly a disadvantage.    Trying to quell the ovation, Ripken had twice emerged from the Orioles' dugout, waving his arms and patting his heart to acknowledge the cheers and indicate his appreciation. He was deeply touched. But he hoped his gesture would bring the celebration to a close, much like an actor's curtain call on a Broadway stage. He owed that to the Angels, he thought. But the fans just kept cheering. If anything, they were getting louder.    Ripken's teammates had convinced him to take the second curtain call, thinking that would end the ovation and enable the game to resume. But it did not, and now Ripken was back on the dugout bench, shaking his head, smiling, and wondering what he could do to stop the noise raining down from the stands.    "Hey, why don't you go run around the field or something?" shouted Rafael Palmeiro, Baltimore's first baseman, who stood in front of Ripken.    Ripken looked at him with a quizzical expression. Run around the field?    Palmeiro shrugged. "I don't know. Go out there and shake their hands," he continued. "Maybe that will get them to stop."    As Ripken pondered the idea, Palmeiro quickly repeated it, adding with a shout, "You need to go out there!"    Another veteran teammate, Bobby Bonilla, picked up on the suggestion. Seated next to Ripken on the bench, Bonilla leaned over and shouted in his teammate's ear, "Junior, if you don't go out there, we may never finish this game!"    Ripken gave a halfhearted smile, clearly unconvinced. Spontaneous gestures made him uncomfortable. He was a planner, a pragmatist. Whatever endeavor he undertook, on or off the baseball diamond, he researched it, reflected on it, devised an approach, and saw it through. "He wore a watch in batting practice to make sure everything ran on time. That's how organized and precise he was in everything he did," recalled Phil Regan, the Orioles' manager in 1995. And running around the field in the middle of this historic game was not in Ripken's plans.    Honestly, he thought it sounded ridiculous. Who had ever heard of such a thing? The game was his day at the office, a sacred time reserved for focusing on his job, his craft, his teammates and opponents. Interacting with fans was the last thing he should do, even on a night history was being made. Ripken's father, a crusty baseball lifer, had taught him the sport's sober code of conduct. Respect the game. Let your performance do your talking. The game matters more than you. Running around the field and shaking hands with fans in the fifth inning was antithetical to everything Ripken believed. But Palmeiro was not interested in debating philosophy.    He just wanted to get the game going again.    He grabbed Ripken by the shoulders and pulled the six-foot-four, 230-pound shortstop up the dugout steps. Bonilla joined in, holding Ripken's left arm. They pulled him onto the field, dragged him a few steps, and playfully shoved him down the right-field foul line. Ripken, laughing, offered no resistance.    "Pushing him out of the dugout wasn't planned. We didn't talk about it beforehand or anything," Palmeiro recalled. "The fans were just so incredibly into the situation. It was a nonstop ovation. As long as Cal sat in the dugout, we might still be sitting there. When we said, 'Go run around the field or something,' he wouldn't do it. So we pushed him out there."    The fans roared at the sight of Ripken back on the field. He took several wandering steps, hugged one of the Orioles' coaches, and waved. Palmeiro's idea echoed in his mind. Run around. Shake hands with them.    "OK," Ripken thought. "I'll try it."   It was the strangest of baseball celebrations when you thought about it ​-- ​not the product of an awe-inducing home run barrage, prodigious career hit record, or any of the kinds of spectacular achievements that usually generated acclaim. Ripken was in the spotlight for the simplest of baseball acts: Just being on the field. Playing. As opposed to not playing.    His repertoire of talents included much more than just his enduring presence, of course. A sure-handed fielder and reliably productive hitter, he would earn two American League Most Valuable Player awards and make 15 All-Star Game appearances by the end of his 21-year major league career. The first shortstop to accumulate 3,000 hits and 400 home runs, he would alter basic notions about his position. Once he came along, a shortstop could hit for power and anchor a lineup as well as solidify his team's infield defense. When Ripken was eligible for induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, in 2007, an overwhelming 98.6 percent of the Baseball Writers' Association of America's voters said he belonged.    Yet the most outstanding aspect of his career was the fact that he played in 2,632 straight games, all for the Orioles.    For more than 16 years, from May 30, 1982, through September 19, 1998, he was ever present in Baltimore's lineup. The Orioles' fortunes careened through soaring highs, such as a World Series triumph, and appalling lows, such as a season-opening 21-game losing streak. Ripken never rested. They made seven managerial changes, including the hiring and firing of Ripken's father. He continued to play. The United States went through four presidential election seasons, electing Ronald Reagan in 1984, George H. W. Bush in 1988, Bill Clinton in 1992, and Clinton again in 1996. Ripken never missed a game.    Along the way, he badly sprained an ankle, twisted a knee in a brawl, bowled over catchers in home-plate collisions, was hit by dozens of pitches, fought the flu, developed a serious back ailment, and grew from a callow youngster to a middle-aged father of two. But he never suffered an injury that forced him to stop playing, and he never said he was so tired that he needed to take a game off.    No major leaguer had ever played so continuously without interruption, and his consecutive-game streak eventually earned a place on baseball's list of iconic feats, alongside such achievements as Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak, the home run records of Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron, and the accomplishments of such legends as Cy Young and Ty Cobb. But unlike the others, Ripken did not have to hit a home run, reach base, or perform extraordinarily in any way in a game to further his record. In fact, he could strike out four times, boot ground balls, and draw boos. As long as he fulfilled the requirements for being credited with playing, he added another game to his streak and perpetuated his reputation for earnest dependability.    He just had to play.   Excerpted from The Streak: Lou Gehrig, Cal Ripken, and Baseball's Most Historic Record by John Eisenberg All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Library Journal Review

On May 2, 1939, Yankees manager Joe McCarthy agreed to leave a slumping and (though it wasn't known at the time, mortally ill) Lou Gehrig on the bench for a day. This ended his streak of 2,130 consecutive games played and was thought to be a record for the ages. Until it wasn't, as over a half century later Cal Ripken Jr. of the Baltimore Orioles put the Iron Horse in his rearview mirror and didn't stop until he had appeared in 2,632 straight games. Here, veteran sportswriter Eisenberg depicts both men's streaks as well as lesser ones, and in the process addresses several questions: How and why does a player accomplish such a feat? Can a player actually hurt his team by never taking a rest? Is Ripken's record truly one for the ages? The answer to the latter is "likely," as Ripken's record doubles that of the third longest (and the longest of our era): Miguel Tejada's 1,152, ending in 2007, followed by Prince Fielder's 547, ending in 2014. VERDICT A readable and comprehensive look at one of baseball's most arcane but incredible accomplishments.-Jim Burns, formerly with Jacksonville P.L., FL © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Publishers Weekly Review

Eisenberg (The First Season) adeptly profiles the two Baseball Hall of Fame players whose consistency became the stuff of legend: Lou Gehrig, who played 2130 consecutive games, and Cal Ripken Jr., who broke Gehrig's record and eventually played 2632 games. He also excels in exploring others who approached their level. A stopped train didn't deter Everett Scott (who held the consecutive game record until Gehrig broke it), who ran to a house, hired a car, took a trolley, and hailed a cab to join the Yankees mid-game. The efforts of George Pinkney (of the Cleveland Blues in 1884), who played third base without a glove, resonated with Brooklyn's working class. Gehrig, for his part, relished the attention to his record, even correcting journalists who lost track. Ripken simply went about his business, though he eventually stayed in a separate hotel from his teammates and took a limousine to home games. The streak became more of an attraction with the rise in popularity of statistics, highlighted by the 1913 establishment of the Elias Statistical Bureau. Massive guaranteed contracts, and the prudence of taking breaks rather than playing every day, have made Ripken's record even more inaccessible. Eisenberg's impressively researched effort is a terrific tribute. Eight-page b&w insert. (July) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Booklist Review

*Starred Review* When Yankee shortstop Everett Scott left baseball in 1926 after playing in a record 1,138 consecutive games, the New York Times judged his record as a miracle that could only be broken by another miracle. Eisenberg here recounts the improbable story of the two miracle workers Lou Gehrig and Cal Ripken who shattered Scott's mark. Though it includes high-octane feats of batting and fielding, this two-stranded narrative is sustained by sheer endurance and indomitable will. Through bruises, sprains, muscle pulls, and slumps, Gehrig and Ripken both doggedly soldier on. Though they hear from detractors who think they should spend some time on the bench, their managers gladly keep their grit, skill, and team leadership on the field even on their bad days. Finally, though, as sports icons who transcend the cultural troubles of their respective eras, Gehrig and Ripken give their fans far more than they give their managers Gehrig's gift acknowledged by the 61,000 fans who gathered at Yankee Stadium in 1939 to hear the terminally ill player voice humble gratitude, Ripken's gift applauded by the tens of thousands who crowded Camden Yards in 1995 to watch the shortstop circle the field in a joyous victory lap. A celebratory chronicle of two of baseball's finest!--Christensen, Bryce Copyright 2017 Booklist

Kirkus Book Review

The story of baseball's greatest iron men.On Sept. 6, 1995, Cal Ripken broke Major League Baseball's consecutive-game record, which had been held by the legendary New York Yankee Lou Gehrig. Once the game was official, the Baltimore Orioles unfurled a banner that read "2,131," the number of games he had played without fail. As the roaring crowd (which included President Bill Clinton and Vice President Al Gore) and a national audience watched, teammates pushed Ripken from the dugout onto the field, where the future Hall of Famer took an impromptu lap, slapping hands with fans around the perimeter of Camden Yards. It was an inspiring moment that many believed helped to save baseball after a labor stoppage had cancelled the end of the 1994 season, including the playoffs and World Series, and truncated the 1995 season. Ripken had broken a record once seen as untouchable, a record made all the more resonant because of Gehrig's tragic death soon after due to amyotrophic lateral sclerosus, a disease that would come to carry his name. Former Baltimore Sun sports columnist Eisenberg (Ten-Gallon War: The NFL's Cowboys, the AFL's Texans, and the Feud for Dallas's Pro Football Future, 2012, etc.) intertwines the stories of Gehrig and Ripken with chapters about baseball's other iron men and the nature of consecutive-game streaks more generally. It would have been easy for the author to simply celebrate Ripken's and Gehrig's records and to couch them in terms of commitment, work ethic, and age-old virtues. But while he does not deny these positive attributes, he also thoughtfully explores why these records resonate, whether they really matter, and if, in some cases, they may be a bit selfish. After all, sometimes a player might serve his team best by taking the occasional day off. It is this aspect of the story that makes the book most valuable. Eisenberg examines one of baseball's most venerated records while exploring what it all means, providing a compelling, thought-provoking history for fans of America's grand game. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.