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THE VOODOO WAVE

Name: THE VOODOO WAVE
Author: Mark Kreidler
ISBN: 978-0-393-06535-0

INSIDE A SEASON OF TRIUMPH AND TUMULT AT MAVERICK'S

by Mark Kreidler ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 6, 2011

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ESPN: The Magazine sportswriter Kreidler (Six Good Innings: How One Small Town Became a Little League Giant, 2008, etc.) goes inside the sport and business of big-wave surfing, covering the 2010 Maverick’s Surf Contest on the coast of Northern California.

Maverick’s is a geologic anomaly. About 20 feet below the surface is a ski ramp-like reef that gathers waves and brings them to a height of 50 or 60 feet, with enormous concentrated energy. Very few surfers in the world are skilled enough to ride such waves. A self-described “big dysfunctional family,” these big-wave surfers—with names like Twiggy Baker and Flea Virostko—will drop everything at a moment’s notice and go anywhere in the world where the waves are good. Maverick’s is perhaps the best of these surf points. Surfers had always come to Maverick’s informally, for only the thrill and calculated risk of the ride. However, Jeff Clark, the first to ride Maverick’s “liquid mountains” and generally acknowledged expert and guardian of the point, came up with the idea of a real contest with real money. He partnered with entrepreneur Keir Beadling, a marriage hardly made in heaven. While Beadling saw Maverick’s as a brand, Clark insisted that it was the wave and the camaraderie that still mattered most. Only for a few short winter months might the waves be adequate for a true contest; if the waves weren’t there, Clark could and would cancel the event. This made life difficult for Beadling in securing sponsors and underwriters, and the two soon parted ways. But the 2010 contest did occur, not without incident as waves wiped out the beach and the spectators and vendors gathered there. Kreidler expertly captures the personalities, flaws and strengths of the riders who challenged Maverick’s, and with laser-like prose describes what it is like to face such a possibly lethal challenge. He also provides a telling examination of what can go wrong when an untamed sport becomes the handmaiden of commerce. A finely crafted tale of the enigmatic world of big-wave surfers.

Pub Date: Sept. 6, 2011

ISBN: 978-0-393-06535-0

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Norton

Review Posted Online: June 6, 2011

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2011

Categories:

SPORTS & RECREATION

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CONFESSIONS OF A BASEBALL PURIST

by Jon Miller & Mark Hyman ‧ RELEASE DATE: April 6, 1998

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Play-by-play man for ESPN’s highly successful Sunday Night Baseball, Miller, with Baltimore Sun reporter Hayman, has slapped together a casual record of his career and a friendly look at the game’s recent history as seen from the press box. Once derogatorily described as a —baseball purist— by Bud Selig, baseball’s acting commissioner, Miller goes on record to try to show that he is anything but. He got his start in the big leagues at the age of 22 in 1974 when he was hired by Charlie Finley’s Oakland A’s, he remembers fondly. He would later spend 14 —wonderful years— with the Baltimore Orioles (two separate chapters are devoted to Cal Ripken and his record-breaking streak) and then the Red Sox. He cites current ESPN partner Joe Morgan as —the premier baseball analyst.— Miller lists among his favorite people in baseball former manager Ralph Houk, one of those who left the game —a better place that when he found it.— Reggie Jackson, Kirby Puckett, Joe Carter, and Eddie Murray also rate highly in his book. Miller’s protestations against being dubbed a —purist— yield mixed results: While he grudgingly admits to liking interleague play, he—d like to see it limited to —natural rivalries— such as the Yankees vs. the Mets, or the White Sox vs. the Cubs. At one point, he decries the suggestion that the game needs to be speeded up; at another, he suggests limiting catcher visits to the mound and giving each team four time-outs. And one nearsighted contention should bring on a shower of boos and catcalls from the stands: The fans, he claims, —don—t read salary lists, and they don—t care who wins or loses arbitration,— he writes. —So don—t bother baseball fans with that nonsense.— It’s a good thing Miller keeps this informal and anecdotal, and presents his arguments with a light touch. Otherwise, purists and other fans might feel they—ve been underestimated, if not sold short.

Pub Date: April 6, 1998

ISBN: 0-684-84518-0

Page Count: 256

Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1998

Categories:

SPORTS & RECREATION

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MAYBE IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A THREE IRON

MY YEAR AS A CADDIE FOR THE WORLD'S 438TH-BEST GOLFER

by Lawrence Donegan ‧ RELEASE DATE: June 16, 1998

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A marginally funny exposÇ of life on the European pro golf circuit. According to Donegan, a Manchester Guardian reporter who masqueraded as a pro caddy during the 1996 European PGA tour, “caddying is . . . not brain surgery. It is much more complicated than that.” From this clumsy metaphor-cum-witticism, we might surmise that Donegan wields turns of phrase about as effectively as he wielded a golf bag (and we need only read the subtitle to see how well he did that). But seriously, the author seems quite genial, and is always willing to be the butt of his own joke (perhaps this is because the Milquetoast personalities of the European PGA tour provide little fodder for the author’s japes). However, his stories about the erratic quality of tournaments on a circuit that included such golfing meccas as Dubai, Czech Republic, Morocco, and Austria, or the boozy, vagabond lifestyles of caddies and the less successful golfers, begin to sound familiar (see any of the dozens of other golf books published over the past few years). Basically, Donegan played Sancho Panza to his Don Quixote, Ross Drummond, a mid-table tour pro whose delusions of greatness and outsized ego often serve as grist for the author’s mill (though not as often as the occurrence of Cervantes references used by the author to describe their relationship). What ensues is Drummond enjoying tantalizing glimpses of success that he, to the author’s consternation, attributes to every factor (including the teachings of the self-help guru Anthony Robbins) other than good caddying; Drummond and Donegan parting ways; and Donegan looking to land one-shot tournament caddying assignments. Par for the course, as golf books go.