Over Time: My Life As a Sportswriter

Writers can be a competitive group, particularly those in journalism. They always want to tell stories, of course. In some cases, it matters to be the first to tell a story; in others it simply matters to do it well. Listen to writers talk, and eventually you'll hear some putdowns of other writers along the lines of "That should have been better." Translation: "I wish I had written it."I'm not sure that Frank Deford's work ever received such a putdown. There's never been a better writer/reporter when it came to the long-form features that he used to do for Sports Illustrated. He usually wrote the type of stories that could be re-read days or weeks later, with the craftsmanship instead of the content jumping out.As a result, the more literate of sports fans have tried to follow Deford's work over the years. He's done work on a variety of mediums over the years. In 2012 he got around to writing down some of his personal experiences in a memoir, "Over Time." Yes, Deford makes this look easy too.One of the author's best qualities comes across loud and clear here. Yes, he's smart -- from Princeton, with a few cultural and historical references that will send you off to the nearest encyclopedia or search engine for explanations. Yes, he's been lucky to have had access to the greats and near-greats, as the words "Sports Illustrated" could get him in a few extra doors once upon a time. Besides the magazine was willing to spend money to capitalize on that access.But mostly, Deford is a student of human behavior. He comes up with conclusions almost in passing, insights that the rest of us would probably consider worthy of the centerpiece of a sociology book. Deford starts every chapter in this book, and there are 46 of them, with such a quote from one of his stories.For example, ponder this: "Perhaps no man is so haunted as the one who was once stunned by instant success, for he lives thereafter with the illusion that tomorrow is bound to bring one more bolt of good fortune." I read that shortly after writing a brief biography (five paragraphs, that's how brief) of Joe Charbonneau for my newspaper. Deford could have been talking about Joe, but he could have been talking about many people.This almost reads like a series of essays, staying on one chapter with one particular theme and then moving on. As could be expected, his families, childhood and adult, get some coverage, as do his days at college. Then there are the jobs, and not just with Sports Illustrated -- even though SI gets more ink than anything else. Deford was the editor of "The National," a great editorial idea with an apparently unworkable business model. He's done radio commentaries for National Public Radio and feature stories for HBO's Real Sports. Then there are novels and screenplays, among other projects.Naturally, there are good stories about people along the way. Bill Bradley. Bob Cousy. Don King. Bobby Orr. Bob Knight. And so on. Yet, this is that rare autobiography by a sports writer where the main attraction is not those he or she encountered along the way during a fine career. It's the author himself or herself.The pages go by quickly, which almost comes across as a parlor trick. How could a book with this much insight seem to be so effortless? Must have something to do with the author."Over Time" ought to appeal to any student of the human condition, which should be just about anyone. It's a definite keeper.

For any sports fan between the ages of 45 and 65, one of the highlights of the 60s and 70s was receiving SI in the mail and turning to the "Bonus" piece that concluded every issue. Under the legendary editorship of Andre Laguerre, the "Bonus" signaled that SI actually had literary chops. Frank Deford was the quintessential long-story writer, and his memoir reflects that same style. The chapters of the book are actually "Bonus" pieces, only this time he is the co-subject with his favorite athletes.What comes through in the book is that Deford's gift is observation, combined with the slight poke, not malicious, but a poke nevertheless. His affection for his parents is touching, and his love for his wife Carol comes through repeatedly. He also reflects warmly on growing up in Baltimore. Being from Baltimore to Deford is like being the poorest member of the country club, always driven to succeed and yet able to enjoin the privileges of membership.The individuals that Deford brings down to size are Joe DiMaggio (unlikeable to the nth degree), Richard Nixon (too image conscious)and Rodney Dangerfield (as lousy a person as you could find). Deford also laments the advent of ESPN with its image-focus and lack of depth reporting. If MTV killed radio, then ESPN killed journalism. It has made everything less interesting.Those who rise are Bill Russell who always told it like it was, Ted Williams and Bob Feller (Achilles and Hector), and B. F. Deford, the father who was always a gentleman. John Havlicek is a favorite for his honesty and humility. Fellow Baltimorian Spiro Agnew deserves a special place. Deford is worried about taking up the Vice-President's time when he realizes that Agnew has absolutely nothing to do and it is he who is taking up Deford's time.As any good Princetonian, Deford makes much of the social issues of the day, particularly the roles of Billie Jean King and Arthur Ashe.Admittedly, Deford's fastball has lost a few miles as many of the antidotes are familiar, but it is still more than enough to get the job done. A very pleasant and enjoyable book to read.

I have always enjoyed Frank Deford's articles in Sports Illustrated but my respect for the quality of his work went way up after reading his book. One of the few sports writers that sport is entertainment and not life or death.

Well written. Great stories. Deford has a way with words that's keeps you wanting to keep reading!