Rarely do I develop so strong a dislike for an author as I did for Brad Balukjian, This could have been an interesting book about randomly selected players — their careers, anecdotes about their lives, what they've been doing since they stopped playing. There was a little of that, but it was mixed in with a great deal about the author's own life, his supposed troubles, and his supposed prowess with women. Instead of opening each chapter with a recap of the player's career, he opened it with statistics on how many miles he'd drive and how much coffee he had consumed. He had very little good to say about the three or four players who refused to meet with him. When that happened. he dug up someone who was willing to gossip. The most ridiculous chapter was on Carlton Fisk. When the Hall-of-Famer declined the interview, the writer stalked him, finally showing up at a autograph session where he gave Fisk a signed photo of himself (of Balukjian) and a greeting card with flowers on it with a note saying how much all the other "Wax Packer" missed him. Fisk looked at him like he was weird. Go figure.