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A review by rwarner
The Captain: The Journey of Derek Jeter by Ian O'Connor
4.0
Derek Jeter is the greatest Yankee of my lifetime. Some may dispute that, but they're wrong. Jeter has risen to greatness, year after year, and has reshaped his game to remain productive far longer than most do. He's a champion, many times over, and I hate him. I hate the Yankees. I wish they would lose 162 games a year, and I'd never tire of that.
The beginning of this book paints Jeter as a demigod, and gushes far beyond what's appropriate for a man who isn't family or lover to gush about someone. It's awkward and grotesque, and I nearly quit reading it. I pressed on, however, and I'm glad I did. O'Connor really digs into what's behind this man who shies from the media, avoids scandal, and puts winning championships above all else. The picture O'Connor fills out isn't always pretty, and reveals the killer, self-centered narcissism behind that baby face that all winners seem to have. The portrait also reveals the team-first attitude, the charitable work, the openness to fans, and the desire to lend a hand to those who haven't betrayed him.
In the end, Jeter is a complex human being, as are we all, but one who excels in a skill we're willing to pay millions to watch. I still hate him for his Yankee pinstripes, admire him for his approach to the game, resent the rings he wears that should have gone to the Braves, and plan to applaud him when, someday, he enters the Hall of Fame. It's a good read.
The beginning of this book paints Jeter as a demigod, and gushes far beyond what's appropriate for a man who isn't family or lover to gush about someone. It's awkward and grotesque, and I nearly quit reading it. I pressed on, however, and I'm glad I did. O'Connor really digs into what's behind this man who shies from the media, avoids scandal, and puts winning championships above all else. The picture O'Connor fills out isn't always pretty, and reveals the killer, self-centered narcissism behind that baby face that all winners seem to have. The portrait also reveals the team-first attitude, the charitable work, the openness to fans, and the desire to lend a hand to those who haven't betrayed him.
In the end, Jeter is a complex human being, as are we all, but one who excels in a skill we're willing to pay millions to watch. I still hate him for his Yankee pinstripes, admire him for his approach to the game, resent the rings he wears that should have gone to the Braves, and plan to applaud him when, someday, he enters the Hall of Fame. It's a good read.