Editor's Note: This is the third and in all likelihood last in a series of posts, in which we just post random stuff on Jays reliever Dirk Hayhurst's book, The Bullpen Gospels. It's available tomorrow at a fine bookseller near you and all over the internets...and seriously, if you come to this blog on a regular basis, then there's precious little that I could tell you that is going to do anything more to encourage you to go by the book. At this point, buy it or don't. It's your deal. I really don't have any skin in this particular game.
When I got my review copy of The Bullpen Gospels in the mail this winter, I immediately tore into it. Maybe it was because I was excited at the prospect of having been included amongst those who were being given a sneak peek at the book: Costas! Olbermann! Neyer! Tao! (And that slow-footed ambler Bastian!)
Or it could be because I felt vaguely duty-bound to help promote the book. I respect that Dirk Hayhurst has taken the time and energy to share his particular and peculiar story with us, and I want him to succeed as much at this new endeavor as I want him to succeed on the mound. This became all the more urgent when Hayhurst went down with what is ostensibly a season-ending injury.
And maybe it is because I harbour my own literary ambitions, and want to make sure that I have a successful baseball author in my corner to whom I can send my own galleys for his review and maybe even a blurb. (Someday, someway...)
Whatever the case, I'll confess to be a bit of a cheerleader for this book. You can take my review of the tome with as many grains of salt as you wish. The book is, after all, written by a member of my favorite sports team, and I have a limited ability to detach myself critically from anything to do with the Blue Jays. I don't particularly believe in objectivity, so let me say that I've done my best to demonstrate some enlightened subjectivity.
So with all that as prologue, maybe the best compliment that I can give Hayhurst's book is this: With the book still freezing cold from its time in my mailbox, I laughed heartily three times in the first four pages.
(And yeah, one of those laughs was generated by the thought of someone getting hit in the nuts. But don't go pretending that you're not as likely to enjoy such a passage.)