My latest book on tape was the autobiography of Walter Payton, Never Die Easy. It was different than any other recorded book I've read because of the use of a variety of narrators. The format of the book was finalized shortly before Payton died in 1999, and was structured to intersperse Payton's own memories with those of his friends, family and teamates, held together with an overall narration.
While Payton's story is certainly both triumphant and tragic, and while the biography of one of football's all-time greats needs to be told, this project was a disappointment. It is relatively short -- only 7 cassettes, and the first 90 minutes or so is devoted to his final days. Again, a story worth hearing, but not exactly an inspirational way to start. Funnily enough, when I inserted the first cassette I found it was 2/3 of the way through the first side; I wonder if the previous reader gave up.
Undaunted, I slogged through and made my way into his youth and playing career, which covered the next two cassettes, and which was the main point of interest for me getting the book in the first place. The next three cassettes were almost unbearable, as we had to endure endless self-pitying accounts of the trials and travails of his retirement years, most notably his inability to latch onto an NFL expansion team in an ownership / management role. Yeah, Walter, life is hard, and sometimes things don't work out. Too many times I found myself rolling my eyes at the incessant whining of him and others about the 3 or so years he invested in that endeavor, wanting to yell "get over it!" at the tape deck. Only the story's untimate tragic ending kept me from doing so.
The final cassette held some redeeming value, capturing Payton's emphasis on the importance of organ donation, and the comments from his friends and family directly from his private memorial service in 1999. Nonetheless, I was disappointed. By all appearances, this project was rushed to publication too quickly -- some sharp editing would have eliminated the repetition of comments and several factual errors. Beyond that, the overall effect was depressing, not inspiring or uplifting. For a player from a small town in Mississippi that went to a (now) Division I-AA school and went on to set all kinds of records, win a SuperBowl, turn a franchise around and be considered perhaps the most complete player of his generation and perhaps others, I feel that "Sweetness" deserved better than this.
The relief pitcher whose picture appeared in the dictionary next to the definition of mullet has died tragically at age 38 at his home in Arizona.
The SF Giants came to Fenway Park for the first time since they were the NY Giants in 1912.
Dan Shaugnessy has some strong words on Barry Bonds here.
Bob Hohler has a longer article -- less vitriolic -- here. One of the people he interviews makes the interesting point that Bonds was a pretty good player (ie 3-time MVP) before he (allegedly) went on his steroid binge in the late 1990's.
In the view of this reporter, it's a shame that a supremely talented player has besmirched his image both by a lifelong surliness and then by the steroids. The former offense could be forgiven (after all, not everyone can be expected to be Cal Ripken). The latter, however, not only violates the integrity of the game, but -- as found in Hohler's article -- really was unnecessary. It's conceivable, at least, that Bonds could have approached Hank Aaron's HR record without the juice.
Meanwhile, the ever-creative Fenway Faithful greeted Bonds with signs distributed by WEEI saying "756*" (note the asterisk), and also displayed a bedsheet with an asterisk in the outfield.
About two years ago, there was a part of me that wanted to see Roger Clemens join the Red Sox for (what I thought would be) his final season(s). It was largely sentimental -- Clemens was, of course, the pivotal player on that magical 1986 team, and it would have completed a circle of sorts to see him finish out his career twenty years later in the same uniform. The "generational" aspect of having him pitch alongside Curt Schilling (who had admired Clemens as a youngster in the Red Sox farm system) and Josh Beckett (who had, in turn, admired Schilling), was also intriging.
For several years Don Imus was on a local station and, if I timed it right, I was able to catch his 7:30 am interview with a notable person (politician, journalist, etc.) on my way to work in the morning.
Posts
All Comments
