A big heads up to anyone prepping for the SAT using the College Board’s Official SAT Study Guide. That’s the newer version, the one with eight practice tests. In the Reading section of Test 3 there is a mistake in Question 50 on Page 541. The correct answer, based on the table on Page 539, is 83%, C. It’s pretty easy, in fact. Just go to the last line in the table and there it is, plain as day. But go to Page 609 in the Answer Explanation section and you will see that the alleged correct answer is 77%, B. If you check out that test on the College Board website, you again see 77% and B. That’s the way it was in the original Study Guide for the “new” SAT, which had only four practice tests. What happened is obvious. A proof reader made a boo-boo. That last line in the table should have been 77%, as it was in the first Study Guide.

Once upon a time I was a sportswriter, and most of the time I covered baseball. I wrote this recently for Athlon Sports’ baseball preview issue.

In every sport there are players we must watch. LeBron James. Wayne Gretzky. Jackie Robinson. Odell Beckham Jr. Secretariat. (Big Red’s Belmont remains the most thrilling sporting event I have ever witnessed. Forty-four years later my cheeks still flush whenever I hear Chick Hearn’s stretch call.) It’s not just about skill. Tom Brady may be the best quarterback in NFL history, but his greatness is not about excitement, about that special, indefinable something, about the possibility that the next play may result in something memorable. Why, you might even say he’s relentlessly boring. We are not compelled to watch him. But at some point last year it hit me: I am compelled to watch Aaron Judge. I haven’t felt that way about a baseball player since Reggie Jackson, and before that, Mickey Mantle. You must get my drift: it’s about home runs, power, awe-inspiring power, and the It factor. Jim Thome hit 612 home runs, long home runs, dramatic home runs, maybe even Ruthian home runs. So what! He never had It, whatever It is.
Yeah, yeah, I know, they’re all Yankees. But they are the Bronx Bombers for a reason, and they do play in The House That What’s Her Name Built. Chuck Schilling had it right: Mystique and Aura.
I spent a good chunk of my childhood in New Haven, Connecticut worshipping Mickey, as did so many other postwar baby boomers. This was the routine on school nights: “Please, dad, let me stay up for Mickey’s next at bat. Please! Just one more at-bat! Pleeeease!” Boy, could I whine.
There has never been a baseball player who could match his combination of power and speed. The phrase “tape-measure home run” was literally created for the one he hit out of Griffith Park in D.C. in 1953. Willie Mays, the greatest all-around player of his time, was surrounded by this charged energy field that was almost palpable, as was the joy with which he played the game. But I wouldn’t have stayed up for five extra minutes to see his next at bat. Why? Beats me. So why Mickey? There was no charged energy field surrounding him. There was no sense of joy. But there was this anticipation in every at bat that he might hit the ball 500 feet, that he might hit the first ball out of Yankee Stadium (which he just missed doing on two occasions, which is two occasions more than anyone else). I didn’t want to miss it – I couldn’t miss it! – just because it was 9:15 on a school night.
When I was 12 I realized, sadly, that I was not going to succeed Mickey as the Yankees centerfielder, a heartbreaking realization that came to countless others. But my love of baseball was forever, and lo and behold, 14 years later, I became the Yankees’ beat writer for the New York Post. And three years later, Reggie Jackson became the pinstriped straw that stirred the Yankees’ drink. Talk about an anti-Mantle. Reggie was loud and combative and controversial and dramatic and he could hit 500-foot home runs and he struck out a lot – 2597, the major league record – and one more thing: He was a drama king. He lived for the spotlight and he played with a passion, and the energy field that surrounded him was certainly not about joy. But you missed any at bat – any pitch – at your peril because you never knew what he would do next.
Even when he failed. Reggie vs. Bob Welch, Dodgers up 4-3, two outs, two on, top of the ninth, Game 2 1978 World Series. The duel lasted nine pitches, all blazing fastballs, 5 minutes and 9 seconds of drama, the Dodgers Stadium crowd roaring, Reggie swinging ferociously, the count running to 3 and 2, ending with the most memorable strikeout I’ve ever seen.
(True story: It’s the eighth inning of Game 6 of the 1977 World Series. The Yankees are three outs away from winning the Series as Reggie, with two home runs already, comes to bat. Bob Ryan, the great sportswriter for the Boston Globe and an old friend, calls out, “Henry,” to ask a question. I turn my head just before Charlie Hough throws the ball. I hear the crack of the bat and I hear the crowd roar, but I don’t see the swing!).
Now here is Judge, who is 6-7 and 280 pounds of ripped muscle, and one of the largest players in baseball history. His swing is also ferocious. Yet he seems positively serene at the plate, and everywhere else. He’s the anti-Reggie. But at some point last May, as the home runs piled up, one soaring, majestic shot after another, 450 feet, 475 feet, 500 feet, I realized something: I had to watch. For the first time since Reggie left New York, I was obsessed with a player. And my father had been replaced by my wife:
“Henzy, when are you coming to bed?”
“I’m going to watch Judge’s last at bat.”
“Henzy, It’s late. Come to bed.”
“As soon as Judge bats.”
Well, at least I didn’t whine anymore. But I was definitely not going to miss the next at bat. And if it went to extra innings, and the clock was about to strike 12, and I was starting to fade, I would set the DVR and fast forward to his at bats the next morning. I had to.
Baseball has been overtaken by analytics and exit velocities and spin rates and algorithms and dramatic infield overshifts and an endless parade of relievers throwing 95 mile an hour fastballs. Now don’t get me wrong, I am no baseball Luddite. Teams can’t ignore these numbers or these trends. But Judge is above and beyond numbers. Crowd him with high fastballs and throw breaking balls off the plate. The formula is simple: high and tight, low and away, just like it used to be for Mickey and Reggie, and probably the Babe, too. There is no arcane set of numbers when it comes to defeating Aaron Judge. Just these numbers: 52 home runs, a major league-leading 208 strikeouts. As a rookie at the tail end of 2016 he hit .179 with four homers and 42 strikeouts in 84 at bats. He was this big kid who hit an occasional long home run and struck out a lot, and he didn’t even win the right field job until the last days of spring training. Who knew?
By May, some fans started coming to the game in judge’s robes and white wigs, just about the time I realized he was something very special. By late May the Yankees had reserved three rows in the right field seats, The Judge’s Chambers (One visitor was a real judge, lifelong Yankees fan Sonia Sotomayor). Judge’s national coming out party was the All-Star Game in Houston, where he won the Home Run Derby. I had never watched even one second of the previous 32. I watched every second of this one. I had to. Judge won, of course. He blasted four more than 500 feet, he hit moonshots to every part of the park, he was positively Homeric. The Rockies’ Charlie Blackmon announced, “I don’t know that the game has ever seen power like that.”
What’s next? A lot of soaring home runs, a lot of strikeouts in a batting order that now includes Giancarlo Stanton, who led the majors with 59 home runs last year. Judge had 127 walks last year. Think teams will dare to work around him more with Stanton lurking? I can’t wait to watch. I have to.

Very Unique Is Very Bad: Unique means one of a kind, something with no equal. It doesn’t get any better than that, folks. So what does “very unique” mean? None of a kind? Michael Jordan was not a very unique player. He was UNIQUE! So here’s the rule: unique is never modified. No very unique, no somewhat unique, no nothing unique.

If Only: Only should almost always come after the verb and as close as possible to the word(s) to which it refers. Don’t write “It was a very big raise for someone who only made $400 a week.” Instead, write “It was a very big raise for someone who made only $400 a week.” Don’t write “The principal only decided to cancel the prom after the senior class misbehaved so badly on the trip.” Instead, write “The principal decided to cancel the prom only after the class misbehaved so badly on the trip.”

I Got Rhythm?: Good writing has a rhythm to it (No. 3 from my previous post, What Every Writer Should Know). So if you hear too many short (or short-ish) sentences in a row, your readers will “hear” that unpleasant monotone-ish effect. Simple fix: combine two sentences.

To Have and Have Not: Have can be a perfectly respectable verb. For example, “Darn it, I have a flat tire.” Or, “I have great respect for anyone who runs a marathon.” But too often “have” is a wimp of a verb. Consider “They need to learn that other people have talents as well.” Consider this Plan B: “They need to learn that other people possess talents as well.” Once more, I refer you to my previous post. No. 5, to be specific: The verb is the most important word in almost every sentence.

This Is an Order: In almost any instance, “in order to” should be reduced by 2/3. In almost any instance, “to” is all you need.

How Not to End a Sentence: I see this time and again with my writing students: they make a good point and then dilute the strength of that point by adding unnecessary words to the end of the sentence. Don’t write, “Atticus tells his son that it is not about how one attains a position of power. What is important and shows humility is how one uses that power when it is attained.” Those last four words are unnecessary, to say the least. Ending the sentence with ” . . . how one uses that power” is a much better “punch line.”

But, Because, And: Just about every one of my writing students (I started in 2005) has been told in Middle School not to begin a sentence with but, because or and. Hogwash! It’s perfectly acceptable, and oftentimes rhetorically effective, as long as you don’t overdo it. By the way, rhetoric is the effective use of words, either written or spoken. And a good writer will play with the language to create a rhetorical effect. But not too often. Because then you overdo it.

Fewer vs. Less: Fewer is used to modify a noun when something can be counted. Less is used when something can not be counted. For example, The department has five fewer teachers this year. The cuts in staffing mean we will be forced to do less than we have in the past. Or, If fewer of us drove gas guzzlers, there would be less pollution of the environment.

In Conclusion, Hold Your Nose: This is for Middle Schoolers. If your English teachers tell you to begin the last paragraph of an essay with “In Conclusion,” and then tell you to recap the points you made already, be kind to them because THEY’RE WRONG!!! Don’t let them know that they don’t know what they’re talking about. As I wrote in No. 8 of my previous blog, they should be telling you to take your thoughts one step further in that conclusion. Just grit your teeth and wait for high school, where hopefully you will find competent English teachers. (Referring back to To Have and Have Not in this post, I started to type “where hopefully you will have . . . ” Oops and double oops, a weak verb. See how much better “find” is.

1 – Less is more. This is a constant battle. The fewer words you use the better off you are. If you write carelessly and redundantly, you are weakening your arguments because you’re not being as direct and forceful as you should be.
Don’t write: “Any task assigned to Sam can be counted on to be finished in the appropriate time frame.’’
Instead, write: “Any task assigned to Sam will be finished on time.’’ Or even better, “Sam will finish any task on time.”
If the first draft of your 750-word essay includes 100 words that can be squeezed out, you’re getting far less bang for your 750-word buck. If you’re economical, you will have a 100-word edge on the sloppy writer – 100 more words to make your case.

2 – Every word you choose either helps or hurts your essay. The more good choices you make, the better your writing will be. It sounds obvious, but you’d be amazed at how much more effective you’ll be if you make 20 better choices each essay.

3 – Read what you’ve written out loud. If it sounds awkward, it will read awkward. If it sounds like a run-on sentence, it almost certainly is a run-on sentence. Close the door and start reading out loud. It’s crucial.

4 – Don’t be vague. Be specific. Paint a picture. Avoid the dreaded V-word at all costs. Let the reader see what needs to be seen and understand what must be understood.

5 – The verb is the most important word in almost any sentence. It provides the sentence’s “energy.” And whenever possible, use active verbs in the present tense.

6 – Good writing is re-writing. Never be satisfied. Go over and over what you’ve written. You’ll be amazed what you find the fifth or sixth time through the essay.

7 – You’re telling a story. No matter what you write, be it a personal essay or a term paper on the Industrial Revolution, always remember that you’re telling a story, with a beginning, a middle, and an end. And every good story has a narrative thread that weaves through it and engages the reader, even if it’s about the rise of industrialism in the U.S. Finally, transition is not just paragraph to paragraph – it’s also sentence to sentence.

8 – A conclusion is NEVER a summary. It should take your thoughts one step further. And it NEVER, EVER begins with, “In conclusion . . . ”

9 – Read, read, read, and then read some more. The more writers you discover, the more styles you are exposed to, the better off you’ll be. You will gradually absorb the various styles and instinctively understand what you can use and how to use it.

10 – Your dictionary should be your new best friend. That’s for when you’re writing, and also for when you’re reading. It’s one of mankind’s greatest inventions!!!