Book Review: Balukjian, Brad. The Wax Pack: On The Open Road In Search Of Baseball’S Afterlife. 2020.

Balukjian, Brad. The Wax Pack: On The Open Road In Search Of Baseball’S Afterlife. 1st ed., University Of Nebraska Press, 2020.

I probably should have read a sample chapter.

The concept is intriguing, a road-trip across the USA to interview former MLB players to inquire about their transition to life outside baseball.  (The conceit of the book title is that subject selection was based on players in a pack of 1986 baseball cards.)  Almost as much as the idea is engaging, though, its execution is disappointing.

In the first place, there is the randomness of subject selection. Are the findings anything more than anecdotal?  It is difficult to say because of another serious problem, the absence of any reference to previous studies on the subject. I am aware of at least two substantial investigations into the post-baseball lives of MLB players, one with a sample size of close to one hundred, the other near four hundred.  There may be others.  (If you know of any, please let me know.) But there is not a whiff of this in Balukjian’s text, which is especially surprising given the author’s academic qualifications (as a professor of biology).  The author finds to his surprise that many of his subjects have broken relationships with fathers. Is this common among MLB players, among high-achieving athletes, or an anomaly of Balukjian’s sample?  There is no suggestion the author was interested in the question.

Then there is the problem of unwarranted authorial intrusion into the narrative, repeated asides about Balukjian’s struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder, his romantic failures, and his paternal relationships.  If the author presented himself as someone of interest, I might have found these passages about his personal life less distracting, perhaps even engaging.  Unfortunately, Balukjian comes off as self-absorbed. The story is always about him and his project. After Carlton Fisk declines to participate in an interview, his agent explains:

“[Carlton] is always getting so many letters and requests, he can’t possibly read them all. He’s got ten grandkids, he’s had some health scares lately, his mom is really elderly, he’s got a grandson with Down syndrome,” [the agent] adds.

I hold the phone away from my ear, getting annoyed by this laundry list of excuses. What does having a grandson with Down syndrome have to do with participating in an interview?

“Look, Kim,” I say, the tension audible in my voice, “if he is so concerned, tell him to call me and tell me what he wants me to know about him.”

“He doesn’t even know I’m calling you right now,” she says.

While many of the player profiles are interesting and the text is easily digestible, the book lacks relevance.  The absence of larger context, disinterest in how these players’ stories might (or might not) be reflective of trends, and the author’s repeated off-topic discussion of his personal problems leaves the impression that the book project was a lark, a chance for the author to take a trip and meet some ball players, and to perhaps kick-start a publishing career outside biology. There was little to suggest concern for the subject of major life transitions, the lives of post-retirement athletes, or the interests of readers.

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27 July 2020 Update

I posted a link to this review in a FB group dedicated to baseball books and received several comments suggesting I have misread The Wax Pack. My misperception appears to be two-fold, first regarding the nature of the book, and the second the character of the author.

Regarding the first, it seems some readers believe my expectations were misplaced, that not only is this book not an academic text but was never intended as such. I see no reason to disagree except to note that nowhere in my review have I claimed that I expected The Wax Pack to be an academic text, nor expressed the wish that it could have been. I simply noted the lack of larger context.  Including such information doesn’t necessarily or automatically make a text academic. Its inclusion, though, adds another layer of depth, perhaps the most important one, as it demonstrates how the particulars of the present story relate to the bigger picture, that there is in fact a bigger picture worth considering. The book is weaker because of its absence.

As for the second, it seems some readers found the author as he presents himself in the book an engaging person.  I did not, specifically because the author’s extended discussions of his problems with OCD, romance, and his parents seemed irrelevant to the story of the baseball players interviewed, or with the broader (ostensible) inquiry into how players transition to life after baseball.  Some readers may appreciate what they might consider authorial candor. I found it gratuitous and evidence of the author’s greater regard for his story than the story of his subjects and the story of transitioning from professional sport.

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