Book 47: Endzone

Endzone: The Rise, Fall, and Return of Michigan Football

John U. Bacon

I think that every college football fan, regardless of allegiance, would admit that it's been somewhat difficult to be a Michigan fan lately. For better and worse, the Wolverines' time in the wilderness has coincided with the beginning of my own devotion to the maize and blue. It is thus with a mix of emotions that I approached Endzone, John U. Bacon's chronicle of the post-Rodriguez era at my beloved alma mater, a period that would come to be characterized by athletic director Dave Brandon's outsize ego. Bacon wisely opens with a brief but thorough history of Michigan's athletic department, including the origins and evolution of some of its most honored institutional traditions. While it would have been easy to assume, probably correctly, that his audience would already be familiar with everything from Michigan's status as a top academic and athletic university to the concept of a "Michigan Man", Bacon instead lays the groundwork that is so essential to understanding how deeply Brandon betrayed the fanbase and how effectively he turned tens of thousands of fans against him in such a relatively short span of time.

As a devoted Michigan fan who closely followed the events of Endzone as they occurred, I found it somewhat painful to revisit some of the program's lowest moments. Losing the bowl streak and all but a single game to Ohio State were bad enough, but Brandon's influence resonated far beyond the football field. I felt myself shaking with anger while reading about all of the longtime athletic department employees who suddenly found themselves unwanted or emotionally incapable of surviving under his cutthroat leadership; the remarkable institutional memory developed over half a century or more evaporated almost immediately, and that is something that cannot be simply or quickly recovered- if it is even possible to do so. Worse still are the stories of coaches pushed out despite respectable results and a positive atmosphere around their programs. Even after living through all of this the first time, I found myself occasionally shocked and often disgusted by many of the book's revelations, not least by the pettiness that seemingly characterized so much of Brandon's reign and the ease with which he casually discounted and discarded any opinions that weren't his own.

In his book, Bacon consistently does what Brandon continually failed to do: he examines the greater context and examines the evidence within it before suggesting a conclusion. While Bacon's intentions to tell a complete and relatively unbiased story are evident from the start, his attention to narrative detail isn't replicated in the book's copy editing. I hesitate to fault him for the errors that plague the book, from minor punctuation and spelling errors to entire sentences repeated next to one another, but they do detract from the reading experience and, more vitally, from the biased reader's sense of smug satisfaction upon discovering that Dave Brandon's would-be fairytale castle has an unnecessary possessive apostrophe (one of my personal pet peeves). Nonetheless, the coherent narrative structure and Bacon's general attention to detail make Endzone a remarkably pleasant reading experience, particularly for a nonfiction book.

Moreover, Bacon knows exactly how to weigh and balance anecdotes, opinions, and facts. Given his personal history with the Wolverines and the particular details of this story, the book's even-handedness is its finest achievement; Bacon could have easily slid into vindictive invective against Dave Brandon but operates with considerable restraint even when unmistakably condemning him. The stories coming out of South Campus have been remarkably consistent, and Bacon is careful to avoid libel, carefully documenting his sources and tempering their more outlandish claims. The interspersed segments detailing Will Hagerup's personal experiences with Brandon may initially seem misplaced and oddly specific, but it gradually becomes clear that Bacon includes Hagerup's experience as a counterpoint to the prevailing anti-Brandon sentiments of his various sources: there simply isn't much evidence in support of Brandon.

Tempting as it may be for the emotionally involved reader to turn away from Endzone, the Wolverine faithful can take comfort in the fact that the book does have a happy ending. As painful as it is to revisit the department's various embarrassments, it is equally (if not more) heartening to read about students, former players, and fans of all kinds coming together to oust the imposter and restore order. Michigan's successful pursuit of Jim Harbaugh forms a fitting coda to the book, a demonstration of the fierce power of a passionate group united by their unwavering belief in a set of principles and their desire to restore a beloved program to greatness. That may seem melodramatic, but few spectacles are as impressive as witnessing over 100,000 people cheering in unison, or waiting with a single bated breath for the ball to sail through the air, under the lights, and land in the arms of a waiting receiver clad in Michigan's traditional blue home jersey. I have felt the palpable power of fandom, and the groundswell of support for the program in the wake of arguably the worst stretch in its history is a remarkable phenomenon and, again, an appropriate ending for the book as Michigan fans finally begin to look forward with more than the tentative, automatic hope that characterizes most preseason fan bases.

All told, John Bacon's exploration of Michigan's recent troubles and, we can only hope, the beginnings of a new foundation of hope offer many lessons within and beyond the realm of big-time college athletics. Similar struggles play out daily across an increasingly incentivized marketplace that prioritizes profit over passion. At Michigan, fans felt marginalized throughout Dave Brandon's tenure, and resisted fiercely as the formerly charismatic chairman sought to undermine the very values that led them to the Wolverines in the first place. It is a story that resonates far beyond its stated scope and one that provides potentially valuable lessons applicable throughout the real world. As it turns out, Endzone is about far more than one program's recent history, striking instead at the heart of modern economic culture and the wars between thriving organic communities and the cold, calculating corporate machines who would destroy it all for a quick buck; what a relief, then, that Michigan fans' passion carries the day.

Grade: A

Book 30: Soccer and Philosophy

Soccer and Philosophy: Beautiful Thoughts on the Beautiful Game

Edited by Ted Richards

With the women's World Cup currently underway in Canada, I figured that now was as good a time as any to grab Soccer and Philosophy. Having read the series installment about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I had an idea of what to expect: a surprisingly successful blend of serious philosophy and pop-culture passion. This is, much to the editor's credit, precisely what the book delivers, with very few exceptions. Ted Richards balances a healthy number of heavily academic papers with more casual offerings, increasing the book's appeal to a broad audience; indeed, the myriad references to soccer's most famous personalities, teams, and games may provide a greater barrier to entry than similar references to philosophers or particular schools of thought. This sense of purpose and passion, combined with a sensible thematic organization, results in an academic book that is welcoming and remarkably readable, particularly considering the inherent complexity of many of the ideas explored within.

Whether by editorial direction or their own benevolence, most of the contributors manage to introduce and engage serious philosophical inquiries without overwhelming the uninitiated or resorting to condescension. Their universal appreciation of soccer is evident throughout their work, and the book is doubtless better for it. One senses that each chapter is, in its way, a labor of love, and numerous references to personal experience serve to humanize and illustrate concepts that are otherwise entirely abstract. It is clear that each author plays, watches, and thinks deeply about the beautiful game just as their audience does, and it is a pleasure to examine it alongside them. This is, perhaps unexpectedly, most evident in the biographies that follow the primary text. To say that they are wildly entertaining would be a tragic understatement, at best, and if this is the philosopher's idea of a serious academic biography I fear that I have chosen the wrong field.

Intended more for philosophically minded soccer fans than for those who don't understand the appeal of a game with so little scoring (and not infrequently none at all), the book rewards close reading and consideration even in its drier moments. Plenty of famous thinkers, from Plato to Nietzsche, make cameo appearances, often in several different chapters, and the net effect is to render philosophy accessible to readers who may identify first and foremost as sports fans. Neither lightweight nor impossibly obtuse, the book examines such weighty concepts as the role of the individual and state in determining and enforcing the law, the literally revolutionary impact of the Magical Magyars, and the ways in which soccer reflects the entirety of human experience and, in its way, life itself. In seeking to answer the most basic and most complex questions about our engagement with this of all sports, Soccer and Philosophy offers an engaging experience for fans who want to dig deeper, to question the obvious, and to share their appreciation for the beautiful game.

Grade: A

Book 15: Coming Out to Play

Coming Out to Play

Robbie Rogers

As someone who is independently interested in LGBTQ issues and soccer, it seemed only natural that I should read this memoir by Robbie Rogers, the first openly gay male athlete to play in one of the United States's five major professional sports leagues. I knew little about Rogers coming into the book, save that he had temporarily retired before coming out and subsequently joining the L.A. Galaxy, and it was interesting to get inside the head of a successful professional athlete, although the book does its subject few favors in the end. It is difficult to discern how much of the tone- which, for its many faults, is at least consistent throughout the book- should be attributed to Rogers and how much belongs to his coauthor, Eric Marcus. Nonetheless, I found it to be somewhat defensive and surprisingly maudlin, to the point where I felt little sympathy for Rogers despite understanding much of what he went through as a closeted gay person in the 1990s and early 2000s.

Unsurprisingly, much of the book is devoted to standard memoir fodder, which is handled more or less adequately. It's exactly the sort of story you'd expect, an obviously well-off kid growing up in an area where he could nurture his obvious talent, forging the kind of professional connections that served him well afterward. The blockquote passages from his mother and sister are a bit too frequent and too long, taking the focus off of the obviously shy subject but magnifying his reticence, yet the book's sections about faith and family provide many of its most poignant and emotionally resonant moments (though the latter are few and far between). Rogers has a tendency to rely on platitudes, particularly when discussing the process of coming out and the subsequent attention he has received since doing so, but they are harmless and largely humdrum. Overall, the book gives the impression that it simply had to be written because of Rogers's monumental achievement, and even if it doesn't set the world on fire it does at least offer a comforting tale of a paranoid, closeted gay man coming out to find an open, loving embrace from all quarters. Its base narrative is somewhat rote, but none the worse for it; what sets the book apart is its constantly apologetic, overly paranoid tone.

It is, of course, appropriate that the book should dwell on Rogers's overwhelming self-doubt and the intense negative impact it had on seemingly every aspect of his life, both personal and professional. I don't fault the authors for making these emotions a central part of the book; to the contrary, I applaud them for at least attempting to rise above the tone of constant joyous celebration that can leave those of us who struggle(d) in similar situations feeling woefully inadequate. That is not, however, to say that the book offers a particularly pleasant- or even a particularly edifying- reading experience. Rogers's story feels real, but the editorial decision to make the negativity so inherent to the book's central voice results in a rather unpleasant reliance on on repeated and redundant complaints. The memoir may offer a realistic portrayal of Rogers's shifting emotions, but its constant defensive tone and ceaseless apologies tend to undermine the concluding message of hope and acceptance.

I hate to be so negative about the book, and it is somewhat refreshing to see a celebrity memoir that so honestly confronts its subject's deepest fears and faults. I can't imagine it was anything but agonizing for Rogers to confront the hyper-masculine world of professional sports on a daily basis throughout the formative years of his life. The book comes agonizingly close to meaningfully confronting some important issues, such as the distinction between those who use homophobic language and those who are actually homophobic (Rogers reports that many of the players who would casually employ the familiar epithets are now among his biggest supporters), but in his eagerness to please Rogers largely squanders his opportunities to place his experiences in a larger societal context. His perspective is certainly interesting, and valuable, and I have no doubt that the book will do a good deal of good for teenagers who (like myself at a younger age) might relate to much of Rogers's story. Regardless, even brutally honest memoirs such as this one must strike a balance between deification and demonization, a balance that this book fails to achieve. Coming Out to Play is an honest look at the inner turmoil that plagued a pioneer gay athlete, but the relentless focus on that turmoil makes it a rough and repetitive reading experience that casts its subject in an unnecessarily negative and shallow light.

Grade: B-

Book 12: The Numbers Game

The Numbers Game: Why Everything You Know About Soccer Is Wrong

Chris Anderson and David Sally

While I've found these aggressively contrarian statistical investigations into aspects of modern life to be somewhat hit and miss, I saw no obvious reason not to at least try The Numbers Game when I found it sitting on a shelf at the library. Unsurprisingly, perhaps, I found it to be a hit and miss volume itself, offering both the clever insights and egregious oversights (to say nothing of simplifications) I've come to expect in this type of book. Its basic framework is, as usual, fairly solid: Anderson and Sally are clearly keenly aware of what they are doing, leaving little room for doubt with their frequent references to the history of analytics-fueled Moneyball in various sports, but take less overt, annoying glee in their counter-intuitive findings than some of their more insufferable peers. Their book flows at a reasonable pace, and their findings likewise pop up in a sequence that not only makes sense but also allows authors and readers alike to build on insights implied by previous statistics. There is a narrative here, despite some of the more standalone aspects of this kind of work, and the authors' propensity to keep the big-picture story in mind during each of the book's many brief investigations ensures that it is accessible despite the math that drives it. Moreover, Anderson and Sally seem to strike a decent balance between getting lost in the statistics and interpreting them for readers (like myself) who haven't seen a regression analysis since high school.

It is, however, somewhat unclear whether the authors occasionally ignore their obvious knowledge of soccer in the pursuit of a particularly contentious claim. Despite their success in generating and maintaining the readers' interest, however, they are sometimes liable to fall into the familiar traps of corollary/causation confusion, and self-importance that plague their peers. Many of their calculations and resulting insights revolve around the typical binary win/loss system that soccer so uniquely avoids with the prevalence- and relative importance- of the draw. Though the authors do investigate some aspects of draws, they seem to ignore this third possible match outcome entirely at points where it appeared to me to be particularly relevant. Likewise, I was disappointed to find that the authors (and a former goalkeeper among them!) so casually dismissed the importance of high goal totals without even considering the implications of the goal differential as soccer's first-tier tiebreaker over competitions with multiple legs. Championships, relegations, and participation in continent-wide superleagues are routinely decided by those games where teams got or conceded what turned out to be a pivotal 4th or 5th goal, as irrelevant as it may have been (statistically or otherwise) within the context of the game at hand. That said, however, the authors' investigations of the relative importance and weight of goals were easily some of the most interesting, and relevant, parts of the book.

More pivotal, however, is the book's various treatments of what proves to be its central question (even if it is unacknowledged as such): is it better to play to win or to play not to lose? Anderson and Sally tackle this question from a variety of expected and unusual angles, eventually leaning toward a defensive-minded mindset (again with the goalkeeper's influence, no doubt) that they acknowledge is far from a hard-set rule. In doing so, they provide an interesting framework that spectators might consider when watching their favorite (or most hated) sides on and off the pitch, but do so without being excessively dogmatic or smug. Though the book is certainly susceptible to the usual pitfalls of its genre, the authors show a great deal of respect for their subject by weaving relevant historical facts into their narrative and providing examples from a variety of eras, countries, and leagues.

Some pitfalls, however, cannot be avoided, and one gets the sense that the authors do indulge in a fair bit of hand-waving throughout the book. As a rule, it lacks true transparency, and I'm not completely convinced that all of the more random-looking scatterplots do, in fact, indicate the trends the authors try to draw out of them. I left the book convinced that Anderson and Sally should have made more of an effort to explain the statistical methods behind their findings and conclusions, and that they possessed the skill to do so without bogging down the narrative or overwhelming their less scientifically inclined readership. The book may not be condescending, but inquisitive readers couldn't be faulted for wondering whether it might have been a bit more open to scrutiny from statisticians and laypersons alike. That said, however, the book is still a highly readable look into the potential implications of advanced analytics on a sport that may be even more hopelessly mired in tradition than the peers who have already embraced the revolution. The Numbers Game may be a product of its time and genre, but it will yield interesting insights to those readers who are willing to embrace analytics with a certain grain of salt.

Grade: B

Book 34: Mathletics

Mathletics: A Scientist Explains 100 Amazing Things About the World of Sport

John D. Barrow

In a way, everything kind of boils down to mathematics. As someone who is normally sports-crazed, and even more so in an Olympic year, the intersection of physics and human physicality is one that has always fascinated me. When I saw Mathletics, therefore, I needed no second look to immediately yank it off of the shelf. Within, I found a group of loosely related, not-at-all organized tidbits about math and its effects on aspects of numerous sports, a marginally disappointing collection that nonetheless lived up to its billing, if a bit too literally. It's unclear who Barrow's intended audience is, and his general audience may be put off by the complex mathematical calculations and "trust me" attitude. Surely more of the math could be put in layman's terms? The frenetic pace of the book doesn’t help much, either. Though Barrow's inclination to organize the book as a series of vignettes is appreciated, readers are whipped back and forth between types of questions and types of sports, never able to gain a foothold on the subject at hand before the next approaches. And, most disappointingly, the book minimizes the magic of sports and fails to capture the intangibles that make sports so enjoyable and unpredictable. Sure, this is a book about the hard math behind human achievement, but in execution it sucks more of the life out of the subject than may have been necessary. Chapters on certain subjects, such as the real weight of individual events in sports such as the decathlon and modern pentathlon, are enlightening and intriguing, but most of the book passes by in a flurry of numbers and variables, without many conclusions actually sticking in the reader's mind. Mathletics lives up to its billing, but it's a billing that sells the subject matter short, and one that might alienate the most interested readers.

Grade: B-

Book 31: Finding the Game

Finding the Game: Three Years, Twenty-Five Countries, and the Search for Pickup Soccer

Gwendolyn Oxenham

Out of college in her mid-twenties, Gwendolyn Oxenham, her boyfriend, and two friends set out to discover how soccer, the game she loves, connects communities around the world beyond the lights of the Premier League and the World Cup. During her journey around the world, Oxenham documented the group's attempts to find, and participate in, pickup soccer games and other non-professional matches. While her love of soccer and her appreciation of the game's ability to unite people across language and cultural barriers are evident throughout, Oxenham occasionally lapses into preachiness or misplaced self-congratulation. The book can't quite decide whether it's an exploration of the global nature of the game or a travel/self-discovery memoir. While both of these elements sometimes coexist in harmony, there is often a tension between them as the writing whips back and forth. The writing is sufficient and the passion more than enough to sustain the story as the group proceeds through its many adventures, both expected and, well, less so. From initial disappointments in Trinidad and Argentina to surprising success on the rooftops of Tokyo, Oxenham and company chase the game, but throughout much of the book there's a feeling of emptiness as the travelogue eclipses more meaningful analysis. The chapters on Iran and Israel stand out for their brilliant combination of straightforward storytelling and examination of the political ramifications of their journey. While hopeful activists praise soccer's ability to unite disparate Jewish and Palestinian communities, Oxenham witnesses a more complicated situation on the ground as sides of each ethnicity meet on the field but ultimately leave in their own isolated pockets. In Iran, the situation is more tense as the group must weather the tensions that plague any Americans visiting the country, let alone a group intent on mingling with anyone and everyone, despite the warnings and discouragement from the official tour guides. Readers will be drawn to Oxenham's obvious appreciation for soccer and for the entertaining stories of her round-the-world trip, but those hoping for Finding the Game to present a deeper examination of meaning may ultimately be disappointed.

Grade: B

Book 29: Three and Out

Three and Out: Rich Rodriguez and the Michigan Wolverines in the Crucible of College Football

John U. Bacon

It's unclear why Michigan fans would really want to re-live the three years now referred to as the "Rich-Rod Era," when the perennial power's fortress came crashing down in a melodrama played out across national news outlets and computer screens. It is undeniable, however, that it is a compelling, if painful, story, and the depth of Bacon's unprecedented access certainly presents a unique opportunity to peer inside a major college football program. Bacon's respect and fondness for the program are evident, but they don't infringe on his ability to present his account with an attitude of fairness. His biases do emerge from time to time, but the book maintains an air of journalistic thoroughness. It is clear that Bacon attempted to seek accounts from all of the main players, and the book usually hesitates to draw firm conclusions without a significant amount of fact-checking and first-hand accounts. Unfortunately, however, for all that, the book often reads as a straightforward recapitulation of events that I, for one, remember quite clearly and would rather forget. What promises to be a far-reaching expose (of sorts) of big-time collegiate locker rooms becomes, instead, a list of plays, scores, and games, with the most damning inferences restricted to a preparatory chapter on the end of Lloyd Carr's tenure rather. Instead of a hard-hitting attempt to expose why Rich Rodriguez failed at Michigan (for it cannot be argued that he did), Bacon presents the same myriad of possibilities that have already been considered and argued about ad nauseum throughout the fanbase. Though Bacon clearly has the insight, information, and ability to weave a compelling account of the stakes of college football and the game's impact on modern academia, his account is merely a day-to-day type story we all know far too well, with items of interest scattered and fairly infrequent. While Bacon's inside view of major sports is appreciated, sincere, and well-written, it reads more as background than as an investigation, which is, after all, perhaps its primary purpose. It is hard, however, to read Three and Out without sensing a missed opportunity, and it's hard to know whether to credit the author for sticking fairly strictly to what he witnessed or to fault him for a lack of attempt to cast a wider net.

Grade: B+

Book 10: Soccernomics

Soccernomics: Why England Loses, Why Germany and Brazil Win, and Why the U. S., Japan, Australia, Turkey- and Even Iraq- Are Destined to Become the Kings of the World's Most Popular Sport
Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski

Well, with a title like that, the authors are certainly making quite a few promises, aren't they? First of all, there's the direct allusion to Freakonomics, and the book certainly lives up to its predecessor's legacy, promising to shake up the World As We Know It but ultimately offering some suggestions born of both common sense (don't put your club on the revolving manager carousel) and heavily massaged, selectively applied data. Though Soccernomics does fall prey to many of the same pitfalls as its namesake, however, it is a worthwhile and interesting read, if not consistently engaging or as promising as its title suggests. More frustratingly than the nod to Freakonomics, perhaps, is the promise that herein lie the secrets of future United States dominance of international soccer- a point that is touched upon in the book's concluding chapter, sure, and alluded to throughout, but which becomes almost an afterthought, an inexcusable oversight when its promise comprises 21(!) words of the book's title. This ending actually becomes laughably anticlimactic, and illustrates how the authors, including a far-too-disappointing Simon Kuper, fail to adequately navigate through their sometimes interesting data, often interesting anecdotes, and insights intriguing and silly alike. After explaining their idea of examining soccer through data, they turn to a particular case study, England, in a move cleverly designed to appeal to their core audience. Though this makes sense in a way, and illustrates several aspects of the game that can be studied through data analysis, the chapter contains several allusions to later segments and ultimately feels out of place, particularly as the remaining chapters focus on specific trends or other aspects of the game, such as club teams and international teams.

Worse still, the authors fall into another trap executed so elegantly by their inspiration, and seem to be driven by a desire to prove points rather than to look through their data and see the revelations. This type of book celebrates the counterintuitive, and while that's admirable and, in many ways, often accurate, some bold assertions aren't so bold after all. Is it truly revolutionary to presume that, as European know-how spreads throughout the world, once averse nations such as the United States will warm to soccer? Moreover, the authors base large swaths of their analysis on a self-serving circle of proof. When studying the relative success of different nations, they swear by a metric that takes population, income, and number of international games played- and then use it to prove that those three variables account for success. Why those three, particularly when problems, such as the fact that nations in a weaker federation such as, say, the AFC, play each other more often than the European giants or Brazil? Sure, the United States underachieves based on these factors, but data cannot explain everything. And yet, maddeningly, though the authors acknowledge this, they routinely undercut their data with subjective analysis, which is fine if you're basing your conclusions on the data but which does not induce much confidence when data is supposed to reign unquestionably supreme. Perhaps, then, what the book proves is that, though numerical analysis might help fans understand soccer more thoroughly and help clubs or countries perform more efficiently, the world cannot be understood solely through anecdote or data. This anticlimactic realization on the part of the reader, coupled with the authors' inept organization, ignorance of their book's own title, and repetition of certain points, makes Soccernomics disappointing, perhaps not surprisingly.

Grade: B-

Book 35: Down and Derby

Down and Derby: The Insider's Guide to Roller Derby
Jennifer Barbee and Alex Cohen

With leagues forming rapidly not only in large cities but also in smaller markets such as my two hometowns of Grand Rapids and Ann Arbor, Michigan, there is no question that roller derby is a cultural phenomenon. Down and Derby, written by two members of the Los Angeles Derby Dolls (whose alter egos are, respectively, "Kasey Bomber" and the delightful "Axles of Evil"), displays a do-it-yourself ethos and aesthetic that mirrors the twin driving forces of modern roller derby, and is an endlessly enthusiastic introduction to and, to a lesser extent, shill for, modern roller derby leagues. The authors take readers on a comprehensive and appreciated history of roller skating races and the various 20th century incarnations of roller derby before launching into a more thorough description of the current movement, which began in Austin in the early 2000s. This historical context is much appreciated and sets up a rich societal context in which to examine the current popularity of roller derby and its cultural importance, and while the authors do not seem to ignore these important aspects of the rising sport, often alluding to its more overtly feminist aspects, their focus shifts instead to a depiction of the modern rules and proceeds to become an evangelical narrative of sorts.

Though there is nothing inherently wrong with this approach, and indeed the book is set up as an introduction for interested parties rather than an at all scholarly narrative, the authors almost seem to gloss over the importance of the success of such a ferocious, paradigm-challenging, all-female enterprise. Instead, the authors merely express their gratitude to be part of it and encourage others to consider the sport. Despite the blatant ulterior motives however, which admittedly may alienate those who just want to know about the sport rather than to join up right away, the enthusiasm seems borne of true passion and dedication rather than more selfish motivations; indeed, the all-consuming power of this hobby is a frequent topic of discussion. Constant humor makes the book more tolerable for less injury-inclined readers is the constant humor, with the authors willing to take a few good-natured swings at themselves and at the movement, and the entire package seems like a bit of good-natured fun. Sprinkled throughout with interviews from various derby personas (including "Jackie Daniels," a founding member of the Grand Raggidy Roller Girls whom I have witnessed in a live bout!), the book is reasonably comprehensive as a how-to text, if not as a philosophical exploration, and ultimately that's okay as it comes from the most reliable of first-hand sources and thus will prove a valuable document as derby diverges from its formative years. An appendix provides a welcome list of movies and television episodes to feature roller derby, and altogether the book holds up rather nicely with no-nonsense, yet easily readable prose. Down and Derby is, as advertised, "an insider's guide to roller derby" meant primarily for those who might strap on some skates, and serves its target audience superbly despite failing to find much resonance for a more detached, wider readership.

Grade: A-

Book 29: The Answer Is Never

The Answer Is Never: A Skateboarder's History of the World
Jocko Weyland

Perhaps it is the decidedly non-academic air of skateboarding that keeps its mysteries isolated largely to a select in-group of its own practitioners, or perhaps it's the defiant anti-authoritarian attitude long associated with the lifestyle, or even its relative newness, that has kept skating largely from the prying eyes of academics and the other upper class suburban types it so alienates. Regardless of the cause, it's remarkably difficult to find a good book on the subject that doesn't fall into the "how-to" genre, a tricky charge regardless due to the esoteric nature of skating's most potent tricks. Longtime skater, bona fide insider to skating's adolescent 1980s, and the pleasantly literate Jocko Weyland does his part to trace the history of the sport from its origins to the beginnings of its current superstar, X-Games incarnation. The fact that Weyland's own coming of age period mirrored that of his chosen passion adds the solidity of firsthand reliability and an air of forbidden insider's knowledge to the volume, which makes The Answer Is Never accessible to outsiders but at the same time renders it a passionate history of the sport for its current crop of riders and devotees. Everyone knows who Tony Hawk is, but Weyland may be onto something when he laments the fade of pivotal skaters such as street-style founder and genius Natas Kaupas into the mists of history. Skating and the inherent alterity of its culture has never, as Weyland points out, been a particularly literate endeavor, and his attempt here to recapitulate its beginnings rings with an air of necessity paired with its labor-of-love vibe.

Weyland begins not with Dogtown and the rise of pool skating, but instead offers a look at the rise of surfing and the myth of Southern California as the true historical birthplace of skate culture and its many spin-offs. Though some illustrative specific stories are plagued by an infuriating lack of last names (though it is unclear whether they are meant to typify different kinds of experiences or refer to specific individuals, some guidance would be much appreciated), they blend in well with the greater narrative and help elucidate the unique pull skating (and surfing before it) have had over their most devoted practitioners. Weyland's insertion of his own skate history also ties in nicely, but the non sequitur oscillations between information and memoir can rock readers a bit and lend the book a bit of a schizophrenic air. These are, however, the book's most lucid exploration of the influence of punk culture on skating (and, to a more limited extent, vice-versa) and illuminate the idea of skating-as-lifestyle like no amount of removed anecdotes ever could. Though his reminiscences could be better integrated into the text at large, Weyland's instincts were in the right place when he decided to include them, and they personalize the book as well as lending it credibility.

Despite Weyland's obvious passion for the subject, his understanding of the skateboard as both object and phenomenon, and refreshingly literate prose, the book does take some missteps. The author explains in the books' afterward that he intended The Answer Is Never to terminate its story just as street skating began to dominate the scene, but the cutoff isn't made nearly as obvious at any point before this postscript, and Weyland's focus on vertical skating can seem at times myopic. Though this accords with his own experience, a better initial definition of the book's scope would serve readers far better than the existing declarations of love for the sport. Nonetheless, and despite some heavily opinionated anti-BMX and anti-inline banter for which he only offers the minutest of explorations, Weyland has put together a brilliant history of the first- and perhaps most dominant- "extreme sport". The Answer Is Never: A Skateboarder's History of the World is, in many ways, exactly that: it is a lucid and personal examination of the formative years of skateboarding that can be enjoyed and appreciated by both those within and without skating's strange magnetic hold.

Grade: A

Book 25: End Zone

End Zone
Don DeLillo

Current concussion debate and lockout woes aside, football is in many ways the great American pastime, symbolizing for many not only our resistance to world sports but also a kind of brash, flashy violence. Given its seeming spontaneity at the whistle and the general brevity of even the most complex of football plays, for Don DeLillo to forge a connection between football and nuclear violence seems, if not natural, reasonably plausible. Unfortunately, other than having a small Texan college's running back become inexplicably fascinated by nuclear conflict, DeLillo is unable to draw any meaningful parallels between the two, nor to use the juxtaposition in any elucidating way. Sure, there are moments of humor within the book, but DeLillo is too unsure of his characters to create anything in the story that is truly lasting. Readers may leave with a decent, half-fuzzy picture of narrator Gary Harkness, but the rest of the cast is a revolving door of meaningless caricatures who show up to spout uncharacteristically sophisticated philosophy when DeLillo believes it convenient. When the most evocative, truest characters in a character-driven book are those who play the smallest parts, readers are going to find it exceedingly difficult to care, let alone to enjoy the book.

DeLillo hints at greater meaning several times throughout the story, and it is certain that Gary learns something during his semester in a small-town Texas college football program. What this is, however, eludes the reader, and I'm not convinced that it's worth digging through the book to find. The reader isn't helped by the sheer brutality of the football characters who occasionally pop in to offer bits of wisdom. Readers may be willing to accept that college football players are, as a rule, capable of achieving the kind of philosophical and intellectual depth that eludes most college students (full stop), but DeLillo bounces his characters around like so many ping-pong balls that it's impossible to glean any true meaning to their words. This book is, from start to finish, the author speaking, and it is perhaps not a coincidence that the book's most nearly infuriating (for nothing within is interesting enough to be truly maddening) passage has the author quoting a later part of the book and oh-so-cleverly-and-he-believes-subtly berating readers for finding a 31-page play-by-play of a football game intensely boring and exceedingly pointless (and I notoriously love football). In the end, however, the effect is just one of indifference. There may have been substance had the subject matter been treated with care or a modicum of thought, but End Zone just peters out at the end, content in its pointlessness but not making a show of it. What Don DeLillo has done in End Zone is, indeed, a remarkable achievement: a nearly meaningless book that, somehow, is neither amusing enough to be rightfully called terrible nor terrible enough to be considered a slog; this is the truly mediocre.

Grade: C-

Book 39: The Ball Is Round

The Ball Is Round: A Global History of Football

David Goldblatt

This ambitious book attempts to provide a complete and nearly universal history of soccer, an appropriate book to turn to during the World Cup. Goldblatt begins with the origin of kicking games throughout the world and traces the development of association football from its first codifications in 19th-century Britain to the spectacle and glamour of today's most popular Premiership sides. More importantly, Goldblatt not only acknowledges but also draws significant attention to the development of the game in various countries and regions, although coverage outside of Europe, Latin America, and Africa is slim to virtually nonexistent. Goldblatt does, however, seek to put soccer in a wider historical context, and indeed this sport-specific history could successfully substitute for a more comprehensive history of the world (or at least Europe, South America, and post-World War II Africa). It is in establishing and exploring the connections between soccer cultures and the greater arcs of history that the book shows its greatest strength, as the body of the work supports the author's initial thesis that separating the world's game from the world's history would ultimately prove a fruitless pursuit.

Despite clocking in at a hefty 900 pages, it is clear that The Ball Is Round could easily suit both devoted history buffs and more reluctant soccer fans. The writing is clear and avoids excessive political or literary rhetoric, allowing enough small moments of humor to keep things interesting but (apart from an extremely excessive use of the word "ludicrous") rarely succumbing to or exulting in its own cleverness. The obvious exception to this notable- and welcome- restraint is in the well-intentioned asides that chronicle important matches in the game's history. It is here that Goldblatt chooses to (attempt to) flex his literary muscles, and often they prove almost hilariously ill-constructed. Full of quite unnecessary flourishes, these match reports often fail to illuminate both the particulars of the match in question and its wider importance; thankfully, the supporting text is usually sufficient to fill in the gaps. Apart from these missteps, however, the book is remarkably readable and accessible both to longtime fanatics and newly minted fans. Its heft ensures that it is not for the faint of heart- nor is it a casual introduction- but the book is almost pathologically thorough in chronicling important figures and developments in world soccer. An impressive achievement that straddles the line between academic information and pop culture history, The Ball Is Round should prove satisfactory for those fans who want to dive headfirst and deeply into the history of the world, as experienced through soccer.

Grade: A

Book 26: The Gaelic Athletic Association, 1884-2009

The Gaelic Athletic Association, 1884-2009
Edited by Mike Cronin, William Murphy, and Paul Rouse

It has been a longstanding ambition of mine to see a hurling match, and I decided to take advantage of the greater number of books available on the subject here in Ireland to familiarize myself with native Irish sports. I turned to The Gaelic Athletic Association, 1884-2009 as an academically slanted collective history of the organization that oversees the Irish games, choosing the book primarily because of its recent publication. The name, however, is a bit misleading, as the chronological coverage of the volume ends, for the most part, far before the present state of the games. Nor is this book particularly good as an all-around, basic introduction. With its essays concerning very specific facets of the Gaelic Athletic Association's presence in, and effect on, Ireland, The Gaelic Athletic Association, 1884-2009 fulfills the promise of its own introduction by prompting further academic debate, assuming basic familiarity with the history of the GAA and some of its social aspects. By this standard, however, the book largely succeeds in presenting well-argued, thoroughly researched, and generally readable chapters on a good variety of aspects of the organization. Background essays on the history of sport in Ireland are excellent, particularly Richard Holt's illuminating essay on the context of American and Continental sports against which the GAA originally developed in the late nineteenth century, nicely complicated by Dónal McAnallen's essay on the amateurism within the Irish sports. Also intriguing are essays offering competing views on the association's effect on, and concern with, outside political and historical events and attitudes, solidifying the book's academic credentials. The Gaelic Athletic Association, 1884-2009 may be slightly mis-titled, but it nonetheless provides a solid intellectual basis on which to consider the history of Gaelic sports in Ireland.

Grade: A-

Book 61: Giving the Game Away

Giving the Game Away: Football, Politics, and Culture on Five Continents
Edited by Stephen Wagg

As part of my extended preparation for the World Cup, and nicely coinciding with the draw for the 2010 competition, I picked up this book while searching for a soccer encyclopedia to browse for my reference class. This book is, as the title suggests, a study of the history of the development of soccer and how it has been adopted and adapted culturally throughout the world (Australia is, despite the title, included along with the other populated continents). The book is a collection of geographically oriented essays, often authored or co-authored by Wagg himself but by various regional experts as well. The book begins with an examination of soccer in its own heartland, the British Isles and, though a bit uneven in its writing it provides a good grounding for the general history of the development of soccer. Developments throughout the world often depended on British exporting of the game through migrant workers and, naturally, colonization, and Britain provides a relatively stable template for development in other countries. Another chapter of particular interest for its discussion of the following for soccer is the chapter on the United States, now out of date but providing an excellent perspective from fifteen years ago, just before the now-successful MLS got off the ground. This chapter not only examines the history of soccer in the United States and Canada but posits several reasons why it has not been as readily and thoroughly accepted as it has been throughout the rest of the world. Thus, its being out of date actually enhances its interest and makes it useful to current readers living in the age of the reemergence of United States football and hoping against all hope for a good result against England in Group C.

Chapters on European soccer quickly devolve into lists of the dates of establishment of various national leagues and note particular teams while containing occasional bits of interest, including notes on the effect of Soviet rule in Eastern Europe and of the adoption of the Confederate flag by various Southern cities along the Mediterranean. Likewise, the essay on soccer in Asia is written without much authorial interest, it seems, and is rather dry. Most enlightening and interesting are chapters on soccer in Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East, perhaps because these regions are most foreign to me but also because of their writing. The chapter on Africa suffers a bit by focusing so directly on Zimbabwe, which has since devolved into an absolute nightmare, but provides a great contextual view of the social significance soccer has had in Africa, particularly as a post-colonial and racially charged activity. Wagg's own chapter on soccer in the Middle East is likewise fascinating due to the ideological distance of these countries from readers in the United States (or Britain, for that matter) and especially in light of recent political developments. This chapter's view of soccer as heavily charged political expression showcases the effect that sports and team affiliations can have, and how they may reach far beyond the game. These insights go beyond soccer and into psychology and sociology without straying at all from the subject at hand; they enlighten in their thoroughness and invite further exploration.

The best essay by far is is, perhaps unsurprisingly, Maurice Biriotti Del Burgo's "Don't Stop the Carnival: Football in the Societies of Latin America." From start to finish, the chapter is entirely engaging, perhaps due to the explosive nature of soccer in Latin American cultures. Far from simply reciting interesting dates or naming the best teams of Brazil, Del Burgo explores the relationship of soccer to particularly Latin American ideas of the individual, nation, and religion. This essay, more than any other, ties the development of soccer firmly to developments of ideological and cultural expressions. The essay, like some others, will be more comprehensible and useful to readers with some grounding on the history of soccer, but anyone interested in the culture of Latin America or interested in the dominance of Brazil will benefit from reading it.

The absolute excellence of the book's top essay does, however, paradoxically highlight the primary fault of the book; though its focus is consistent throughout and each are of the world is represented with a significant block of text, the essays are wildly uneven. Certain differences in writing style are to be expected of course from a book with multiple contributers, but the varying citation style (if citations are even used in a given essay) and use of "soccer" instead of "football" make the collection more difficult to read as a comprehensive view. The concluding chapter and its reflections on the World Cup of 1994 makes interesting observations but its focus on Brazil repeats material and sentiment from the aforementioned regionally-based study. Certain chapters focus much more on dominant teams of the past than on cultural development, and the shift in focus prevents the book from presenting a sense of a comprehensive view of the world's soccer culture. While it is overall a noble attempt and has aged rather gracefully, Giving the Game Away is best read for its standout pieces and by readers particularly interested in one area or another; it simply is not consistent enough to provide a strong backbone for a lay reader's knowledge of soccer across the world.

Grade: B

Book 56: Love & Blood

Love & Blood: At the World Cup with the Footballers, Fans, and Freaks
Jamie Trecker

After a fully depressing (but fully brilliant) novella, I decided to turn to soccer, a game about which I long to know more about and which I find very interesting in the international social context. Conveniently, I discovered this book, which is even more topical due to the current ongoing World Cup qualifyers heating up, with only a few slots left to fill. Trecker's homage to the supposed pinnacle of soccer is produced throughout with funny, incredibly readable prose that seeks to contextualize soccer in the globalized environment as well as being a travelogue of sorts recalling Trecker's journey to the World Cup as an American reporter with high-access Swiss credentials. Trecker does a great job balancing fact, analysis, and anecdote in this volume, which will appease soccer fans while remaining inviting to those who don't know much about the sport. Trecker largely stays away from soccer's slang terms, explaining thoroughly those that are necessary, and continuously aims to describe the tensions and emotions of the world's tournament with a keen eye towards an American audience. Love & Blood maintains a careful balance between explaining the recent (and not-so-recent) history of American soccer with due attention to the Rooneys and Zinedines who light up stadiums around the world.

The book itself can get a bit choppy, purporting to talk of the 2006 Cup in general while sliding into a more general discussion of the sport, returning again to Germany as if nothing had happened in the interim. There is a bit of reader whiplash but the informal nature of the book, while making the story of 2006 a little hard to follow, makes Love & Blood a fun read and underscores the author's credibility as a true fan. Trecker's passion for the sport is obvious across each and every one of these pages, and his exploration of the lack of American passion remarkably stays away from a chastising or despairing tone. Love & Blood is eminently fair to its American readers and seems a labor of love; the prose gets informal but the analysis stays relevant and interesting. It is obvious too that Trecker has put a lot of thought in to the deeper issues he explores, which include the effects of increasing commercialization, rising club dominance, and even troubles within FIFA. Complete with his often hilarious observations and anecdotes concerning the 2006 World Cup and its German hosts, Love & Blood takes great steps to contextualize the world's biggest sporting event from an American perspective, remaining respectful and entertaining throughout.

Grade: B+