29 of 31 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Loved it, didn't hate it, May 1, 2006
If he's not more careful, Jeff Pearlman's going to get a reputation as the Kitty Kelley of baseball. First, the John Rocker interview in "Sports Illustrated". Next, "The Bad Guys Won!" -- a book about the hard-drinkin', coke-snortin' '86 Mets. Now, Barry Bonds is revealed in all his misanthropic, beef 'roid injectin' misery.
I'm not sure if "Love Me, Hate Me" began life as an impartial look at how Bonds' stellar on-field accomplishments redeemed his tumultuous personal life. Somehow, I doubt it. I suspect it was always intended to be a sarcastic look at how one of the most physically talented ballplayers of the last quarter-century managed to trash his public reputation and make exactly zero friends along the way.
Pearlman knows his baseball, and chooses his comparisons with great precision. His writing is crisp and lively, his point never in doubt. For example, he describes Bonds' infamous late-season and playoff slumps by comparison to late 1970s utility infielders -- the kind of references that only a guy in his mid 30s who grew up with shoeboxes full of Topps baseball cards could come up with: Bonds is described, during his slumps, as being: "... as useful to baseball as an autographed Otto Velez jersey". And: "In April and May, he was Willie Mays; in September, he was Tom Veryzer". This book is probably going to drive the average sabermetrician crazy.
In order to get away with a book like this, the author has to do two things right. He has to get his game accounts perfect. How many baseball bios have been trashed by a lack of research into game details? Ken Kaiser's biography, Andre Dawson's biography, Jose Canseco's love letter to steroids, to name three other baseball books I've reviewed. A look at RetroSheet, however, shows that Pearlman gets it right. He did his research, he watched the key games. That should be a given for any book, but it's not, so he gets points.
The other thing the author has to get right is to check his sources. How do we know that the stories in this book aren't bogus? When you interview 500 people, many of whom knew Bonds only in passing, you're likely to get some suspect information, or anecdotes altered by conscious or unconscious bias. Of course, story after story about how poorly Bonds treated teammates and neighbors is balanced by other stories about his generosity and heart, so not every interviewee is out to get Bonds. The chapter notes also detail hundreds of primary sources -- mostly contemporary newspaper game accounts or the musings of sports columnists (many of which, such as the paeans to Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa in 1998, look painfully naive in retrospect).
"Love Me, Hate Me" is hardly neutral or impartial. However, it has the ring of authenticity, and is written in the same breezy, in-your-face style that made "The Bad Guys Won!" a blast. It's unfortunate that, as of today, there are about 5700 other books that are outselling this one on Amazon. Love this book or hate this book, you should not avoid this book.
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20 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
The Link Between Insecurity and Greatness., July 6, 2006
This book is ironically titled because the real Barry Bonds, who you feel like they know after finishing Jeff Pearlman's thrilling biography, is a man one can neither love nor hate. His excellence is tarnished by his personality which is so obviously confused that, despite the brutality with which he treats others, renders one incapable of hating him. Barry Bonds is yet another example of self-esteem having an inverse relationship with success. Had Bonds been a satisfied young man, he would have never expended every particle of his physical and mental energy conquering a craft which would one day make him a national celebrity and a fabulously wealthy person. Bonds's infinitesimal self-doubt caused him to train like, and with, Jerry Rice and even cry on the rare occasion he had to miss a game, but it also alienated almost everyone he came into contact with. He is a petty, abrasive, and irritable man who is entirely devoid of social skills. This reality makes one pity him which is not the reaction one expects to have towards a finger pointing, whining mega-millionaire. When you look at the numbers over the course of his career, it is readily apparent that Bonds really is the Michael Jordan of baseball, and that most of us don't realize it is directly related to the horrendous way with which he interacts with peers, the press, the fans, and your average citizen. I am a fairly hardened person, but I was shocked to read the passages documenting this icon's habit of berating small children who ask for his autograph. He seems to insult and slight others for absolutely no reason whatsoever. As for steroids and BALCO, Pearlman does not hedge on the issue which is quite appropriate considering the evidence. The author is certain that the allegations against Bonds are true, and the stigma he is now under is doubly tragic because the reality is that the Giant would have gone to the Hall of Fame without an ounce of illegal substance. After the scandal, it's now a crap shoot as to whether or not he'll ever make it to Cooperstown. This is a cautionary tale.
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