Seth Swirsky was bored. A songwriter in Los Angeles deprived of his beloved baseball during the 1994-95 players' strike, he decided to fill the void by writing to a few major leaguers and asking them to reminisce about their careers.

"It kind of got out of control," Swirsky laughs.

He wound up sending out 500 letters and got 400 responses, the best of which he decided to compile in a 1996 book, "Baseball Letters," one of the most charming books this sport has ever seen. In their own handwriting and with wonderful lapses in spelling and grammar, Bob Cain recalled what it was like pitching to midget Eddie Gaedel; Cal Ripken wrote of his father's guidance; and even Sal Durante, the fan who caught Roger Maris' 61st home run, remembered, "I can still see the baseball in flight, hoping I would be the one to catch it."

"Baseball Letters" was such a hit that it spawned a sequel, "Every Pitcher Tells a Story," with dozens of new correspondences -- and, this spring, a third edition, "Something to Write Home About," (Crown, $29.95) collects another eclectic group of baseball memories, from Ernie Banks to George Bush, from Peter Tork to Tom Seaver. (This being Baseball Letters III, you almost expect Clubber Lang to make an appearance.) There's even Leonard Garcia, the batboy who was mistakenly photographed for Aurelio Rodriguez's 1969 baseball card. "By the way," he writes, "I now work for Topps!"

Preserving the vanishing art of sitting down and actually writing a letter -- no e-mail here -- Swirsky has continued his peek into baseball's past as special as it is unique. These are the top 10 responses he has gotten over the years -- with a Babe Ruth chaser:

Ernie Banks on the genesis of his now-famous motto:

I was driving down Lake Shore Drive in Chicago on a 110 degree summers day, in 1969 ... I just looked at the whole picture of my life and thought about all the people around the world and other planets and how I'm just a little dot on this Earth but I got to play baseball. It was such a wonderful moment! ...

I got to the ballpark, signing as I entered the clubhouse. Everyone was kind of walking around in slow motion it was so hot and I said, "GOD IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY -- LET'S PLAY TWO!!!" and everybody kind of woke up. Billy Williams and Ron Santo said "You're always crazy -- what are you talking about playing two today? Get out of this clubhouse!" But I said "just look at this beautiful day, we should play two!" A writer, Jimmy Enright, picked up on it and still, everywhere I go that's what I hear: Ernie Let's Play Two! The phrase reflects how much I truly, truly love baseball.

Gates Brown, pinch-hitter extraordinaire for the World Series-champion Tigers of 1968, on his most memorable clutch performance:

We were playing a day game in Detroit & Norm Cash, who wasn't playing that day, & I usually got hot dogs for each other every inning or so.

I knew Manager Mayo Smith didn't usually call on me until the 7th inning but this day he called on me in the 6th inning & as I said Norm & I were on the end of the bench eating them. I couldn't leave them there because I knew when I came back they wouldn't be there. So, I put the hot dogs in my jersey & went up to hit.

Of all the times I didn't care if I got a hit would you believe I hit one up the gap & had to go head-first into second. When I got up, I had mustard & ketchup all over the front of my jersey.

When I got back to the bench, everyone was laughing like hell ...

Many Red Sox fans believe John McNamara blundered by not replacing Bill Buckner at first base with Dave Stapleton in the 1986 World Series before Mookie Wilson's ground ball went through Buckner's legs to lose Game Six. It appears Stapleton is among them:

The reason he left Buckner in was to be on the field when we won the game so he could celebrate with the others. As you well know, nobody got to celebrate because of this bad decision ... He has to live with his decision the rest of his life. And great Red Sox fans all over the country have to continue to suffer on as a result of it.

Now the Dodgers' pitching coach, Jim Colborn was known as much for his pranks as his pitching from 1969-78. One of his best came on the last day of the 1976 season, when his woeful Brewers and the Tigers just wanted to go home:

Jim Denkinger, the plate umpire as I recall, allowed me the loan of his outside chest protector and mask ... Alex Grammas, our manager, greeted Ralph Houk with, "You have a nice winter, Ralph." Ralph said, "You too, Alex." I chimed in, "You too, Alex." He half glanced at me, did a double take and bent over laughing. Our bench was loudly, verbally abusing the plate umpire, me, in hopes of getting tossed so they could head home early. I accommodated Ray Sadecki and Gorman Thomas but couldn't really figure out how to throw myself out ...

Harmon Killebrew on whether his dad saw his 500th home run:

He passed away when I was 16 and never got to see me play major league baseball. But he was the biggest influence on my athletic career. He got me started playing all sports at a very early age ... My mother was complaining to my dad about the holes in the yard and he told her we weren't raising grass -- we're raising boys!

Harry Danning caught for the New York Giants from 1933-42, often for the great Carl Hubbell. Swirsky asked Danning about the screwball pitcher's great control, and Danning recalled an evening when he and some teammates went to a carnival boardwalk:

We came upon a game where a girl in a bathing suit sat on a piece of wood over a large vat of water -- the object being if you hit the "Bulls-Eye" the board would release and the girl would fall into the water. I took my turn, Mel (Ott) his, and Mark (Koenig) his and now it was Carl's turn. He hit the bulls-eye so many times in a row, that poor girl quit and wouldn't sit on the board anymore.

Ever wonder how Russ Hodges' frenetic "The Giants Win the Pennant!" call in 1951 was captured for posterity? The radio station didn't record it. Neither did the Giants or Dodgers. Thank goodness for a fan named Lawrence Goldberg:

I was 26 years old and working in an office in Manhattan, I knew I wouldn't have access to a radio but I wanted to hear the end of the playoff game. I was a long time Giant fan so I set the radio to WMCA, set up my reel to reel tape recorder, showed my Mother what button to push when the ninth inning started. I then took the BMT train to work.

That evening, I couldn't wait to get home to listen to the tape. I knew what had happened but I had to hear it for myself. I rewound the tape and there was Russ Hodges screaming "The Giants win the pennant ... I don't believe it ... the whole place is going crazy." ...

The years have passed but every time that home run is shown on TV -- with the soundtrack based on my tape -- I smile and think to myself: "We did that -- Ralph Branca, Bobby Thomson, Russ Hodges, me and my mother!"

Yankees third baseman Todd Zeile on being a distant relative of John and John Quincy Adams:

I recall thinking that it was "pretty cool" to be directly related to the Adams Family (not to be confused with Gomez and Morticia) but nowhere as cool as my buddy whose grandfather animated the Flintstones' cartoon for Hanna Barbera. After all, could John Adams compare to having a grandfather who could whip out Fred Flintstone, George Jetson, or Scooby Doo in one fluid stroke of the pen?

Rangers pitcher Chan Ho Park recounted his first major league game (against the Braves in April 1994) in both English and his native Korean. He began by writing that "No words could express how I felt at that moment," then did so quite eloquently.

I couldn't feel my legs when I was running out to the mound due to the excitement and tension that gave me the shivers for about a minute. 50,000 fans stood and cheered me on while I was heading for the mound and although I couldn't understand what they were saying, the one thing I knew was they were cheering for me. This built up the excitement in me even more and after reaching the mound, I couldn't remember if I ran there or if I flew there.

Milt May, at 12:32 p.m. on May 4, 1975, homered for the Astros against San Francisco to drive in Bob Watson, who was credited with scoring baseball's 1 millionth run.

They were counting down on the scoreboard at Candlestick the number of runs needed to be the millionth. I understand they were doing that in all the ballparks ... I was in the on-deck circle, and it was 7, 5 or something and Bob Watson hit a double. As I stepped into the batter's box it clicked to one. The first pitch from John Montefusco was a low fastball and it went out. Bob Watson sprinted home accounting for the millionth run. Evidently, Dave Concepcion hit a home run simultaneously with me and sprinted around the bases, but Bob, being on secnd already, had the jump and scored seconds before.

Mace Brown, who gained fame for serving up Gabby Hartnett's "Homer In The Gloamin'" in 1938, watched from the Pirates dugout in 1935 as Babe Ruth hit the 714th and last home run of his career.

After 'Babe' Ruth hit his third homer of the game, which cleared the roof of the double deck stands, he crossed home plate, and he ran directly into our dugout and sat right beside me on the end of the bench! He sat there for about 4 or 5 minutes right next to me. The only thing I remember him saying was, "Boys, that last one felt good."

Alan Schwarz is the senior writer of Baseball America magazine and a regular contributor to ESPN.com.