“Lord, how they hated to see Moe Hill come to Waterloo. When he had a bat in his hands and a Wisconsin Rapids
uniform on his back, a sense of dread rose from those
Iowa townies like summer heat off two-lane blacktop.”
—Twilight of the Long-ball Gods by John Schulian
I was a teenage immigrant to this country when I first read Schulian in the pages of the Chicago Sun-Times. He wrote with such empathy and wisdom then that I missed his absence from the national landscape now. Where have you gone, John Schulian?