Rating: 
Summary: Exceptional Writing about an Extraordinary Life
Review: This is a magnificent book.
It is difficult to delineate why this book is so special. Perhaps the book succeeds based on the fact that Ted Williams was a much larger than life person, with great achievements, extraordinary character, heroic courage, and tragic flaws. Or, the book could be so wonderful because of the writing talents of Leigh Montville. Either way, this book is appealing to a wide range of readers: Red Sox fans, baseball followers, or even those who have a general interest in the history of 20th century America.
As a sports book, this is a gem. And as a biography, it is exceptional.
Although not as well known as a David Halberstam or David Remnick, I feel confident in saying that Leigh Montville is as great a writer and biographer. Among those who have followed his work for decades with the Boston Globe and Sports Illustrated, Montville is known as the sportswriter's writer. When you want to see a very unusual feature story, or a conventional story with a unique point of view, Montville is the writer to read. This is a "sports" book which could well qualify for all of the biography book awards this year.
You will not regret putting this book at the top of your reading list. Wonderful work! TEN stars!
Rating:
Summary: Newsday (NY) review
Review: Throughout his 19-year career with the Boston Red Sox, Ted Williams was perpetually in quest of the perfect batting stroke. Wherever he went, Williams would be swinging a bat. Or a cardboard tube. Or a hotel pillow. Or a rolled-up magazine.In his mind, he could see the ball approaching from 60 feet, 6 inches, spinning and cutting and whirling toward home plate until -- thwack! -- Williams swung away. His friends understood. That was just Ted. Crazy Teddy. The thing is, Williams was chasing the impossible dream of a 1.000 batting average. Though he expected to drive the ball every time he dug into the batter's box, the best he could do was hit .406 in 1941. No man has batted above .400 since. Much like Williams' successful pursuit to become known as the best hitter who ever lived, there has long been an effort to write the definitive Williams biography. Throughout the years, no fewer than 10 authors have taken cracks at Williams' life. The best -- Ed Linn's "Hitter: The Life and Turmoils of Ted Williams" -- is fantastic. Others -- Michael Seidel's "Ted Williams: A Baseball Life" and "I Remember Ted Williams" by David Cataneo -- come up short for one reason or another. In "Ted Williams: The Biography of an American Hero," Leigh Montville reaches a threshold even the mighty Williams could never touch: perfection. If his book is not the best baseball biography ever written, that's only because there are a handful (Jane Leavy's "Sandy Koufax: A Lefty's Legacy" and Richard Ben Cramer's "Joe DiMaggio: The Hero's Life" come to mind) at an equally outstanding level. Montville interviewed more than 400 people for the project, and it shows. "Ted Williams" leaves absolutely no stone of its subject's life unturned, from his boyhood in a modest San Diego neighborhood to his final hours at a hospital in Inverness, Fla., three years ago. The beauty of Montville's work is that it is not a baseball book, per se, so much as the life and times of -- like DiMaggio, Williams' greatest rival throughout the 1940s -- an oft-perplexing, always fascinating man. We are presented a Williams who is as loud and obnoxious as Babe Ruth at his inebriated best, who strings together four-letter words with impressive indecency and wages a career- long battle with the Boston media that borders on militant. Williams could be biting and irrational and childish, as well as unforgivably selfish. How else to describe a person who intentionally missed the births of his three children to go fishing? Yet Montville makes it impossible to hate Williams. There is a genuine decency to the man, and it has little to do with his work as a U.S. Marine pilot during World War II and Korea (Williams, Montville tells us, did everything he could not to fight) or his three-year tenure as a cuddly major league manager. No, what brings the likeability to light are the little things. Williams, who refused ever to wear a tie, once ordered lunch at a stuffy country club dining room -- tie required. Writes Montville: "He tucked his napkin into his V-necked T-shirt. ... The soup arrived. He picked up the bowl and started drinking. The excess soup rolled down the napkin, across the front of the T-shirt. He finished the bowl, walked out and never returned." When he wasn't barking at pitchers or slurping soup, Williams could often be found at hospitals, visiting children's wards for hours on end. Unlike DiMaggio, whose good deeds were always accompanied by a price tag, Williams never refused the chance to sit bedside and chat with a dying kid. In painful detail, Montville recalls a time when a young boy grabbed Williams' finger and wouldn't let go. Instead of pulling away, the legendary hitter stayed the night. It is impossible not to recall this goodness late in the book, when we learn that Williams' money-obsessed son, John-Henry, is having his dad's body preserved in a cryonics factory, the hope being that one day people will purchase his DNA for cloning. How, Montville asks the reader, can such a grim fate await such a great man? The book is something of a career homecoming for Montville, who grew up near Boston worshiping "Teddy Ballgame" and vividly recalls receiving an autographed postcard from Williams in the mail. In Beantown, Montville is considered one of the great all-time newspaper columnists for his 21 years at the Boston Globe. He was, however, an odd fit at Sports Illustrated in the late 1990s, when the magazine's stories got shorter and shorter and there was less of an emphasis on athletic nostalgia. Since leaving SI in 2001, Montville has turned exclusively to authoring books. The move was a good one. He is a writer who likes to stretch out a paragraph with longer than usual quotes and vividly painted portraits. In the world of chop-chop print journalism, such attributes (sadly) don't seem to have a place anymore. But here, on the pages of "Ted Williams," Montville is at his very best. It's a good thing. The legacy of Ted Williams deserves nothing less. Jeff Pearlman is the author of "The Bad Guys Won!" a biography of the 1986 New York Mets.
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Summary: Complex Life
Review: Throughout Ted Williams' baseball career, he was a magnet for criticism from local Boston fans and press. Perhaps no better player was criticized more in the history of baseball. "Teddy F'ing Ballgame," as he referred to himself, would reciprocate the negative affection back, leading to ugly incidents that did not help his public image. However, after he retired from playing, he was not subject to as much criticism and as a result, his public demeanor softened and he became more likable by many. This all culminated to the 1999 All-Star game when he was given a deafening ovation by the Fenway faithful as he rode a golf cart to the mound to throw out the first pitch. Players surrounded him, just to be in the presence of greatness, delaying the game, even after the PA announcer asked for the players to return to the dugout. And in this moment, there was no question how Ted Williams would be remembered, how his legacy would be carried on. It would simply be as the greatest hitter there ever was.
Leigh Montville's biography, "Ted Williams: Biography of an American Hero," tackles the complex life of Ted Williams. From his difficult upbringing in San Diego, to his bizarre after-death ordeal, Montville sorts through the many stages of Williams' life, giving perspective and explanation. Williams was often misunderstood, and his stubborn demeanor furthered the belief he was uncompassionate, selfish, and simply a jerk.
It is both a testament to Williams and Montville that roughly half of the book is dedicated to Williams' life after he retired from playing after the 1960 season. Williams lived a fulfilling life after retiring, fishing the Keys and Canada, running a baseball camp for children, endlessly fundraise for cancer patients, being the spokesman for Sears, and even returning to baseball to manage a historically horrendous franchise.
Montville could have taken the road well traveled, focusing on Williams playing days. Surely famed seasons like 1941, when he hit .406, were more than enough to fill a book or two. Montville's book gives ample coverage to Williams' baseball career, but he does not allow that to define this book. Instead, he focuses on Ted Williams the man. Montville could have written about the accomplishments of Williams, but instead he wrote about what made Williams the man that he was.
Ted Williams is revered by the greatest generation that watched him give up five years of his prime to defend our country in two wars. Baby boomers remember an aging star that still had the determination to play well after most of his peers had retired. Even younger generations read stat lines and watch documentaries of baseball's golden years.
Montville reinforces the memories of the greatest generation, makes baby boomers wish they could have seen just a few more years of this remarkable player, and proves to the young that Williams was an American hero, not because of baseball, because of his contributions to the country and charities.
Ultimately, Montville makes it clear that Ted Williams was the greatest hitter there ever was, but that he was also much, much more.
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