Not that Johnny Roseboro would say that the coming up wasn't worth the going down, but for the former Dodger catcher the descent was a bitter, disillusioning experience. For that matter, the coming up wasn't a bed of roses either, not for a kid who was ""sort of shy and straight and scared."" Not for a young black playing in a sport where racism lingered long after Jackie Robinson ""broke the color line."" Roseboro didn't smoke, didn't cuss, didn't drink, and never had a taste for the bright lights and fancy ladies many of his teammates chased. In fact, he married his first girlfriend the way you were supposed to in the 1950s, even though he didn't know her very well, and they hung in there until his baseball career ended. Then the marriage went bust too--when he wasn't a celebrity ballplayer, she didn't want him. A sensitive and remarkably candid guy, Roseboro reflects ""I was only prepared for a life in sports and didn't prepare properly for the rest of my life."" His business ventures soured, one after another, his income went from 60 grand to 18 to nothing, and soon he found himself filing for bankruptcy and divorce. Thoughtfully, without rancor, Roseboro scrutinizes himself as an introverted young man playing a game where winners take all and losers are forgotten. He learned, but except for his performance on the diamond, he learned the hard way.