For several years in the 1990s, I served as the sports psychology coach for the Cleveland Indians. I was able to do this while working as a full-time editor, thanks to an unusual arrangement I had first with Macmillan and then later with Warner Books. From February through October, I would spend at least a week each month, either in Cleveland or in their minor league system, helping players cope with the daily mental ups and downs of the game. My protégés included Manny Ramirez, Albert Belle, Jim Thome and Carlos Baerga, among others. This unique coaching position gave me an up-close view of front-office and clubhouse management. As a former pro ballplayer myself, I knew it was an unwritten code among athletes that the clubhouse is a confidential sanctuary. Players (and the coaching staff) know that all activities and conversations that occur in that locker room are strictly off-limits to everybody else.
That unwritten code was severely tested when former major league pitcher Jim Bouton decided to write the first (and perhaps most significant) sports tell-all, Ball Four, in 1970. That book represented the first time in publishing a major leaguer revealed the truth about some of his famous teammates. Ball Four has sold millions of copies. But for decades after Bouton's book was published, the pitcher was viewed by the baseball community as a pariah because he had violated that unwritten clubhouse code.
In the mid-1980s, Bobby Knight, then the men's basketball coach at Indiana University, granted a young sportswriter named John Feinstein total access to follow his team throughout a tumultuous season. ASeason on the Brink revealed a side of Coach Knight that made sports fans everywhere blush—but they bought the book in huge numbers. And now we have the number-one bestselling The Yankee Years by Joe Torre and Tom Verducci. (Note to self: find out whether Torre and Verducci would be interested in writing a sequel called The Dodgers Years.)
These are just three examples of tell-alls that have worked. There are plenty of other sports exposes that have fallen flat. Who knew Jose Canseco was actually telling the truth in Juiced, which was a big hit in 2005? But his follow-up book, Vindicated, was much quieter in its sales. And who can ever forget Just Give Me the Damn Ball by Keyshawn Johnson, which generated huge media attention when it was published in 1997, but in the end nobody really wanted to buy a book about the inside story of the New York Jets? (Ahem... I wonder if the editor who bought that book is still in the business.) And sometimes tell-alls are published where the authors don't seem to have all the facts right about the players they write about.
Sports tell-alls run all sorts of risks: What happens if the best stuff in the book makes headlines in the newspapers or serves as fodder on sports talk stations for a few days—but then fans no longer feel compelled to purchase the book? There's always the threat of a lawsuit, too; after all, if you're going to name names—which any good tell-all does—you better have good lawyers lined up.
Then there's the worry about timing: if you have a one-day, embargoed laydown of the book planned, suppose a copy or 12 leaks early? Or what happens if, on the exact pub date, another huge sports story hits—and pushes your story off the back page of the tabloids? There's also the reliance upon the athlete/coach to deliver on the promised promotion and publicity. Sometimes these stars get cold feet at pub time. Remember when Charles Barkley told the media he had been “misquoted” in his autobio? It's a good idea to remind your celebrity author to read his or her book before it's launched. And, of course, there's usually a huge advance to be paid with sports tell-alls. These are all issues that an acquiring editor has to weigh.
The bottom line? Sports tell-alls are like a slugger who swings for the fences. When he connects, everybody cheers the home run. But more often, he whiffs on the pitch and humbly strikes out. When that happens, there's no joy in Mudville—or in the publisher's offices.
Author Information |
Rick Wolff is a v-p and executive editor at Grand Central Publishing, and would never consider doing a tell-all about Manny Ramirez or Albert Belle... unless, of course, somebody offers him a whole lot of money. |