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You know Backstop. He plays the
catcher’s position for any team in any
city in America with a major league
ball club. You cheer him when he
delivers, and boo him when he doesn’t.
Told in his own words during the
seventh and deciding game of the
World Series, Backstop chronicles his
rookie season, takes the reader to
Chicago, where he finds romance, and
reveals the heartbreak he endured in
the aftermath of his one indiscretion.
You’ll cheer for Backstop, both on and
off the field, as he plays the most
important game of his career, haunted
by the ghost of his father, and fights
to win back the heart of the woman
he loves more than the game.
catcher’s position for any team in any
city in America with a major league
ball club. You cheer him when he
delivers, and boo him when he doesn’t.
Told in his own words during the
seventh and deciding game of the
World Series, Backstop chronicles his
rookie season, takes the reader to
Chicago, where he finds romance, and
reveals the heartbreak he endured in
the aftermath of his one indiscretion.
You’ll cheer for Backstop, both on and
off the field, as he plays the most
important game of his career, haunted
by the ghost of his father, and fights
to win back the heart of the woman
he loves more than the game.
| Second Wind Publishing, LLC 931-B S. Main St., Box 145 Kernersville NC 27284 Copyright (c) 2008-2009 All Rights Reserved E-mail us |
I wait for Higgins to dig in and think of my father, whether, wherever he is, he is
proud of my accomplishments in baseball, or whether he is merely ashamed of what
I did to Darlene. I want to forgive him for so much—as I want desperately for
Darlene to forgive me—especially for handicapping me in so many ways. But in
order to forgive him, I somehow feel I must elevate myself into a position of judge,
and that’s something I find I just can’t do. I accepted long ago that I am who I am,
the good and the bad, as a result of this man about whom I know so little and who
left me before I could prove myself to him. If I could only resolve to stop staring at
my past looking for answers, or to assign blame, I might finally be able to consign
him to a less prominent place in my life, into a favorite corner to which I can go
from time to time if only to dust off the cobwebs.
Somehow I found the courage to risk my dreams, even when they seemed to exceed
my grasp, despite Dad’s inability to succor me. Still, in failing Darlene, I failed to
become the man I always wanted to become. The sin rests entirely with me. Yet in
the aftermath of that sin I fought for Darlene. As I continue to fight for us. But it’s
a battle I can’t win alone.
In my youth I once considered that my father, due to my mother’s unhappiness,
should not have married and, in my own unhappiness with my father, that he
should not have fathered children. But what did that say of me, my self-image, my
self-value? Indeed, what does Darlene’s unwillingness to fight for what we once
had say of me? Yet I’m unwilling to concede defeat—perhaps the result of the
ballplayer in me—although my resolve, like my knees, weakens day by day.
proud of my accomplishments in baseball, or whether he is merely ashamed of what
I did to Darlene. I want to forgive him for so much—as I want desperately for
Darlene to forgive me—especially for handicapping me in so many ways. But in
order to forgive him, I somehow feel I must elevate myself into a position of judge,
and that’s something I find I just can’t do. I accepted long ago that I am who I am,
the good and the bad, as a result of this man about whom I know so little and who
left me before I could prove myself to him. If I could only resolve to stop staring at
my past looking for answers, or to assign blame, I might finally be able to consign
him to a less prominent place in my life, into a favorite corner to which I can go
from time to time if only to dust off the cobwebs.
Somehow I found the courage to risk my dreams, even when they seemed to exceed
my grasp, despite Dad’s inability to succor me. Still, in failing Darlene, I failed to
become the man I always wanted to become. The sin rests entirely with me. Yet in
the aftermath of that sin I fought for Darlene. As I continue to fight for us. But it’s
a battle I can’t win alone.
In my youth I once considered that my father, due to my mother’s unhappiness,
should not have married and, in my own unhappiness with my father, that he
should not have fathered children. But what did that say of me, my self-image, my
self-value? Indeed, what does Darlene’s unwillingness to fight for what we once
had say of me? Yet I’m unwilling to concede defeat—perhaps the result of the
ballplayer in me—although my resolve, like my knees, weakens day by day.
"In Backstop, J. Conrad Guest offers an
entertaining and instructive journey into both
major league baseball and major league matters of
the heart."
—Jeff Vande Zande, author of Landscape with
Fragmented Figures
"Baseball, like love, is a game of errors and regrets.
Pop-outs, ground-outs, strike-outs. A bad swing,
a bad throw, a bad hop. But what captivates us
most is the possibility of the next at-bat, of the
chance for a rally, of an unlikely clutch play that
suddenly changes the stakes. This is where J.
Conrad Guest meets us in Backstop: in this
beautiful, hopeful place closest to our hearts,
where we play for the love of the game, and we
love with everything we have."
─Rachael Perry, author of How to Fly
"In this story of love and sport, told in the
tradition of Field of Dreams and For Love of the
Game, J. Conrad Guest masterfully weaves the
human realities of risk, regret, and redemption in
bold and charming fashion."
―Jeff LeJeune, author of Postmarked Baltimore
entertaining and instructive journey into both
major league baseball and major league matters of
the heart."
—Jeff Vande Zande, author of Landscape with
Fragmented Figures
"Baseball, like love, is a game of errors and regrets.
Pop-outs, ground-outs, strike-outs. A bad swing,
a bad throw, a bad hop. But what captivates us
most is the possibility of the next at-bat, of the
chance for a rally, of an unlikely clutch play that
suddenly changes the stakes. This is where J.
Conrad Guest meets us in Backstop: in this
beautiful, hopeful place closest to our hearts,
where we play for the love of the game, and we
love with everything we have."
─Rachael Perry, author of How to Fly
"In this story of love and sport, told in the
tradition of Field of Dreams and For Love of the
Game, J. Conrad Guest masterfully weaves the
human realities of risk, regret, and redemption in
bold and charming fashion."
―Jeff LeJeune, author of Postmarked Baltimore