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Broadcast Rites and Sites: I Saw It on the Radio with the Boston Red Sox
In Broadcast Rites and I Heard It on the Radio with the Boston Red Sox, Joe Castiglione gives his educated opinions on his favorite sightseeing, shopping, and restaurants from coast-to-coast. Yet, at the heart of the book is baseball as seen from his unique perspective and longevity in the booth—from witnessing seven no-hitters to having a catch with Bob Feller; from Roger Clemens' twenty strike out game to the fateful, unforgettable Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
418 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2004
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
September 2, 2019
I wanted to like this book so much. Joe Castiglione was the Red Sox voice of my childhood, alongside Ken Coleman, his voice coming through the speaker of a transistor radio all spring and summer long, courtesy of WTIC 1080 AM. To this day, I hear his voice and the child that still lives inside me wriggles with delight. Baseball radio painting pictures in my head.
Joe's good with words. He has to be to do his job well. But the spoken word, especially in fits and spurts, stories stopping and starting at the whims of the game's pace, are not words in print. There is so much within the covers of this book. It's just not...bookish. I think, perhaps, it could have been, with proper editing, but as it is? I cringe. There is no flow. No consistency. No rhythm or pattern, other than the one that exists at the mercy of slipping in anecdotes between baseball action. It almost felt as though he wrote it between between pitches and forgot what it was he has been saying when he picked back up. That's to say nothing of the over-detailed background he often provided, filled with details that applied to absolutely nothing. I'd often stop in disbelief and read a paragraph aloud to my husband so he could appreciate how absolutely random its contents were--even as the sentences within it related to each other (as in, they didn't)!
Some other issues with the book include: Joe repeats himself. A lot. Sometimes in various places throughout the book, sometimes in back-to-back paragraphs. It also bugged me a little bit how often a person about whom he was sharing his thoughts was "the most": the most likable, the nicest, the best -- pick your superlative. I do think that what this book needed, more than anything, was a ruthless editor. The nuggets were there but the execution face-planted.
What I loved? Reading about the different cities: what he's seen there, places he's enjoyed eating. That was an insight I've never gotten from any other sports book, ever. It was fun and unique. I also particularly enjoyed the two closing factoids about Wade Boggs in the "Among My Favorite Players" chapter, as well as the chapter dedicated to the Jimmy Fund. But I slogged through a lot of this book, taking over a year to get through its mere 346 pages, mostly because the whole thing felt awkwardly assembled. I will continue to enjoy Joe in the WEEI booth, bringing the Red Sox games to life in my head, when opportunity arises (like when I cannot withstand the local TB broadcast or am held hostage by ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball fools), but I don't think this book did much to encourage me to pick up his second one. I'll leave him to his strength: words spoken.
Joe's good with words. He has to be to do his job well. But the spoken word, especially in fits and spurts, stories stopping and starting at the whims of the game's pace, are not words in print. There is so much within the covers of this book. It's just not...bookish. I think, perhaps, it could have been, with proper editing, but as it is? I cringe. There is no flow. No consistency. No rhythm or pattern, other than the one that exists at the mercy of slipping in anecdotes between baseball action. It almost felt as though he wrote it between between pitches and forgot what it was he has been saying when he picked back up. That's to say nothing of the over-detailed background he often provided, filled with details that applied to absolutely nothing. I'd often stop in disbelief and read a paragraph aloud to my husband so he could appreciate how absolutely random its contents were--even as the sentences within it related to each other (as in, they didn't)!
Some other issues with the book include: Joe repeats himself. A lot. Sometimes in various places throughout the book, sometimes in back-to-back paragraphs. It also bugged me a little bit how often a person about whom he was sharing his thoughts was "the most": the most likable, the nicest, the best -- pick your superlative. I do think that what this book needed, more than anything, was a ruthless editor. The nuggets were there but the execution face-planted.
What I loved? Reading about the different cities: what he's seen there, places he's enjoyed eating. That was an insight I've never gotten from any other sports book, ever. It was fun and unique. I also particularly enjoyed the two closing factoids about Wade Boggs in the "Among My Favorite Players" chapter, as well as the chapter dedicated to the Jimmy Fund. But I slogged through a lot of this book, taking over a year to get through its mere 346 pages, mostly because the whole thing felt awkwardly assembled. I will continue to enjoy Joe in the WEEI booth, bringing the Red Sox games to life in my head, when opportunity arises (like when I cannot withstand the local TB broadcast or am held hostage by ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball fools), but I don't think this book did much to encourage me to pick up his second one. I'll leave him to his strength: words spoken.
Displaying 1 of 1 review