The late 1960s and early 1970s, in New York City and America at large, were years marked by political tumult, social unrest . . . and the best professional basketball ever played. Paradise, for better or worse, was a hardwood court in midtown Manhattan.

Harvey Araton has followed the Knicks, old and new, for decades--first as a teenage fan, then as a young sports reporter with the New York Post, and now as a writer and columnist for the New York Times. When the Garden Was Eden is the definitive account of the New York Knicks in their vintage pomp. With measured prose and shoe-leather reporting, Araton relives their most glorious triumphs and bitter rivalries, and casts light on a team all but forgotten outside of pregame highlight reels and nostalgic reunions at the Garden.

Howard Beck. Marc Stein. Jonathan Abrams. Chris Broussard. Ira Berkow. George Vecsey. Mike Wise. Selena Roberts. Lee Jenkins. All have graced the pages of The New York Times, entertaining readers with their probing coverage of the N.B.A.: a stage on which spectacular athletes perform against a backdrop of continuous social change. Now, their work and more is collected in a new volume, edited and annotated by Hall of Fame honoree Harvey Araton, tracing basketball's sustained boom from Magic and Bird to the present. Elevated provides a courtside seat to four decades of professional basketball. Both the iconic moments and those quieter, but no less meaningful times in between are here, from Wise riding around Los Angeles with a young Kobe Bryant on the eve of his first All-Star Game, to Stein declaring Giannis Antetokounmpo's "unspeakable greatness" to the world in a riveting profile. Rather than simply preserving the past, Elevated reexamines and further illuminates hoops history. This expertly curated collection features exclusive new writing by Araton and postscripts from the original journalists, revealing candid exchanges with NBA greats that didn't make the original newspaper edit and tracing the rise of a worldwide phenomenon from a contemporary vantage point.

"Funny, revealing, and surprising . . . anything that brings new Yogi Berra stories is a good book." --MLB.com
"Driving Mr. Yogi" is the story of how a unique friendship between a pitcher and catcher is renewed every year. It began in 1999, when Yogi Berra was reunited with the Yankees after a long self-exile, the result of being unceremoniously fired by George Steinbrenner fourteen years before. A reconciliation between Berra and the Boss meant that Berra would attend spring training again. Guidry befriended "Mr. Yogi" instantly. After all, Berra had been a mentor in the clubhouse back when Guidry was pitching for the Yankees. Guidry knew the young players would benefit greatly from Mr. Yogi's encyclopedic knowledge of the game, just as Guidry had during his playing days, so he encouraged Berra to share his insights.
Soon, an offhand batting tip from Mr. Yogi turned Nick Swisher's season around. Stories about handling a hitter like Ted Williams or catching Don Larsen's perfect game captured their imaginations. And in Yogi, Guidry found not just an elder companion or source of amusement -- he found a best friend.
At turns tender and laugh-out-loud funny, and teeming with unforgettable baseball yarns that span more than fifty years, "Driving Mr. Yogi" is a universal story about the importance of wisdom being passed from one generation to the next, as well as a reminder that time is what we make of it and compassion never gets old.
"A refreshing change from the normal diet of sports books out there . . . A warm, sentimental look at a baseball icon." --"Tampa Tribune"

The game of basketball has gone global and is now the world's fastest-growing sport. Talented players from Europe, Asia, South America, and Africa are literally crashing the borders as the level of their game now often equals that of the American pros, who no longer are sure winners in international competition and who must compete with foreign players for coveted spots on NBA rosters. Yet that refreshing world outlook stands in stark contrast to the game's troubled image here at home. The concept of team play in the NBA has declined as, in the aftermath of the Michael Jordan phenomenon, the league's marketers and television promoters have placed a premium on hyping individual stars instead of teams, and the players have come to see that big-buck contracts and endorsements come to those who selfishly demand the spotlight for themselves.

Even worse, relations between players and fans are at a low ebb. Players are perceived to be overpaid, ill-behaved, and arrogant. Fans, paying hundreds of dollars for tickets, often act boorishly and tauntingly. This tension boiled over on the night of November 19, 2004, at the Palace of Auburn Hills, Michigan, during a Detroit Pistons-Indiana Pacers game, when players brawled with fans as much as each other in what was, in fact, a racial skirmish. When the Pacer players entered the stands throwing punches, they had truly smashed an altogether different kind of border.

In the aftermath of that sorry spectacle, regular-season television ratings declined for NBA games. Playoff-game ratings plummeted. Sales in NBA-licensing products sagged by a reported 30 percent. For the millions of Americans who cherish basketball, the love affair has reached a stateof crisis.

Few people care as deeply and know as much about basketball as Harvey Araton, the highly literate and well-traveled sports columnist for "The New York Times." For many a season, Araton has observed "the ballers," as the players call themselves, at college tournaments, the NBA, and the Olympics. He has enjoyed a pressbox seat while watching the great 1980s rivalries of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, the transcendent career of Michael Jordan, and the slow unraveling of the game through the 1990s until the present season, as newly arrived players and league officials misunderstood and misapplied the mixed lessons of Jordan's legacy. Calling on his many years of watching games, of locker-room interviews, of world-hopping reportage, Araton takes us to scenes of vivid play on the court and to off-camera dramas as well.

In this taut, simmering book, the author points his finger at the greed and exploitation that has weakened the American game. And with uncommon journalistic courage, he opens a discussion on the volatile, undiscussed subject that lies at the heart of basketball's crisis: race. It begins, he argues, at the college level, where, too often, undereducated, inner-city talents are expected to perform for the benefit of affluent white crowds and to fill the coffers of their respective schools in what Araton calls a kind of "modern-day minstrel show." It continues at the pro level, where marketers have determined that "gangsta" imagery provides for a livelier entertainment package, never mind the effect it has on the quality of team play. And where, moreover, players themselves, often both street smart and immature, decide to live up to the thuggish stereotypes.

HarveyAraton knows the players well enough to see beyond the stereotypes. He knows that for every clownish Dennis Rodman there is also an admirable David Robinson. For every Ron Artest, there is a Tim Duncan. Combining passion and knowledge, he calls on the NBA to heal itself and, with a hopeful sense of the possible, he points the way to a better future.

Unflinching, timely, and authoritative, "Crashing the Borders" is the beginning of a much-needed conversation about sport and American culture. For those who care about both, this book will be the must-read work of the season.

The revolution began with the simple act of a mother kicking a ball to her daughter. An English soccer trainer noticed, and praised her form. "Too bad," she replied, "there's no soccer league for mothers." Who could know that so many lives would change as a result of that simple exchange? In the suburban enclave of Montclair, New Jersey, as in so many communities around America, there was nothing new in the sight of mothers driving their minivans to soccer practice. What was new was that these women were driving to their own practices instead of dropping off their kids and watching from the sidelines. For the generation that grew up before Title IX's mandate of equal athletic opportunity, the field of play was a male preserve; girls watched and cheered. The lessons that sports are supposed to teach -- team spirit, overcoming adversity, playing to win without rancor or anger -- were restricted to this young boys' network; how could women help win the Battle of Waterloo when they'd been kept off the playing fields of Eton? The women of Montclair were mostly of that pre-Title IX generation, and many of them had never played competitive sports in their lives. In Alive and Kicking, Harvey Araton follows these women through their turbulent first two seasons. He turns his keen sportswriter's eye onto the battles, both on the field and in the psyche, that these women wage as they try to play a sport without compromising their values. He also shows the divisions that wrack the league when a slightly younger generation gets involved in the games, a generation raised without ambivalence about beating an opponent, willing to take a dangerous chance for a winning goal, even if it means running over the woman in their way. But most of all he describes the women who gain in confidence and ambition, like one of the league's pioneers, who finds the strength to leave a tired marriage, buoyed by her accomplishments on the field -- as well as the few who find themselves left behind by the achievers, those for whom this exposure to sport will leave the scars known to all who've been the last to be selected for a pickup game. The rise of women's sports -- symbolized by the ecstatic reaction to the U.S. Women's World Cup soccer team -- has been a significant change in the social landscape. This thoughtful, thought-provoking book examines the questions that should underlie this radical change, but too often have not: As sports change women, can women change sports? Is the male play-to-win model the only one that works? Does it work? Through the experiences of these smart, mature women, we learn much about the workings of games and societies -- and the difficulty of questioning patterns so deeply entrenched that we barely know we can question them at all.