Dave Klein’s day job was sports writing. He is only one of four sports reporters to have covered all 41 Super Bowls. Is that impressive? I don’t know, I hate football. I do enjoy baseball or at least the romanticism of the sport. It’s so classic Americana. In the earlier part of the 20th century the two sports that mattered the most were Baseball and Boxing. Now everyone loves fucking Golf…and Football, I guess. They make it difficult to watch any sports now, so I don’t even know what’s popular.
Anyway! What I was hoping for here was an exciting crime story that revolved around baseball. What I got was drug cartels and lots of rape. Good lord man. Every woman in this book gets raped. There’s even a female character who died before the story took place who got raped. Whenever an author puts shit like this in a story to this abundance it always makes me think, they’re living out some fantasies here.
Berto Escoban is the best player in the league. He’s a clean-cut guy with a great attitude. He recently got married to a super model. Now he is in Venezuela training in the off season. Things are going well.
Also in Venezuela is Poloma. He’s the leader of the cartel around these parts. He’s a powerful gangster who owns people in the government and has connections in the US including crooked cops. He’s got a big ol’ pile of smack that needs to come to the US to be distributed. What better way than to have all-American Yankee, Berto, be the bagman. He’ll just need a little coercing, that’s all.
Here is where it gets gritty folks. I’m gonna tell you how so if you don’t want to know now is the time to stop reading.
While the couple is relaxing in their fancy hotel room there is a knock on the door. It’s a shitbag with a gun and three other people. They are carrying lighting equipment and cameras. Nothing is explained to them. They make Berto get naked and sit on the couch. Then they turn the camera on. Shitbag explains to the wife that she is going to fuck these dudes and lady on film and she’s going to smile and act like she’s having a great time or Berto is getting shot in the face. She puts on her best face and gets to work. This part isn’t shy either. It’s literally a bad script for a porno movie.
Afterwards they are told to come meet the man behind the dramatic rape, Poloma. He tells Berto why it happened and what he needs to do now or the deceivingly shot tape will be sent out to the papers. What can a Berto do?? He goes along with the plan to smuggle heroin in his private jet.
Back in the US we meet sportswriter guy. His backstory is that his wife was raped and killed by a serial killer and he’s just now recovering and getting back to work. He calls up his high school girlfriend and they get back together blah blah blah. His assignment is with the Yankees. He realizes something is wrong with Berto, gains his confidence and gets the details.
Good thing he has a good buddy super cop friend. Super cop is in New York City but somehow Venezuela Poloma is his white whale. Yeah, I don’t know, this book is all over the place. I’m not even sure who the main protagonist is. The beginning is all Berto. Then the sports writer’s life takes over and then the baton is passed to super cop. Everyone’s wife/girlfriend gets raped.
The story is a far-fetched ridiculous affair. Like Berto’s life is in absolute jeopardy, right? Super cop is full detail on him 24 hours a day. We can’t leave him alone!! And then some hunch comes up and super cop is like, Berto I have to go back to New York, stay here unguarded, you’ll be fine. What?? If this book was a movie it would be prime for some Mystery Science Theater riffing. It’s a total B-movie book. Enjoyable in its badness. Adorably awkward. Except for all that rape. Jeesh.
Oh man, I almost forgot. The cop straight calls black people, n-. Our hero is unapologetically not a fan of black folks. It’s crazy. I’ve read lots of of-the-era books that aren’t of the present mind on racial relations and well, it’s unfortunate but it is what it is. Maybe the author put it in there to make the story more grimy? But why is the hero cop saying it? And throughout the book this guy is made out to be a perfect super guy. An untouchable cop and a loving husband. I hate to harp on this stuff, I usually don’t dwell on it, you know, it’s an old book there are going to be some things that didn’t age well but it really stuck out in an odd way. Like, he was an old southern guy in the 1940’s yelling at some black guy because he was looking at a white woman.
Anyway!
This book is hilariously bad. Good bad. It’s entertaining and will make you laugh though not it’s desired intention. It has almost nothing to do with baseball though which is why I wanted to read it in the first place. Any recommendations of sports centered mysteries or noir or juvenile delinquent genres would be much appreciated.
Ace Charter 1982
Review by Nick Anderson
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