David Wright’s career was on a Hall of Fame trajectory until a spate of injuries abruptly cut it short. Revered for his steadfast leadership, the third baseman spent his entire 14-season career with the New York Mets.
Despite his high profile role as the captain of New York’s National League ballclub, Wright’s personal life has never been tabloid fodder. In fact, while nearly everyone has a positive view of Wright, the defining characteristic of his public image is its spotlessness. By all accounts, he is a gentleman whose professionalism is unparalleled. That “boy scout” image made him an icon in the Big Apple, but it doesn’t necessarily make for a compelling narrative.
Since most would characterize Wright’s personality as vanilla, turning his life story into a true page-turner would be a daunting endeavor for even the most skilled wordsmith. MLB.com writer Anthony DiComo attempts that feat with The Captain, a book that has Wright relay the details of his journey from pudgy Little Leaguer to major league All Star. As demonstrated by his work on the Mets beat for MLB.com, DiComo is a gifted writer with a knack for transforming basic game summaries into something more transcendent. Unfortunately, because The Captain is entirely told through Wright’s voice, most of the text is superficial and unengaging.
A Dearth of Detail
The prevailing problem with The Captain is a lack of specificity and insight. Mets fans looking for meaningful reflections on playing baseball in the nation’s media capital will ultimately be disappointed. Far too often, The Captain is content with simply relaying the highlights of Wright’s career in chronological fashion without adding any additional context or thoughts from Wright himself.
Anyone who has followed the Mets over the years knows the basics of Wright’s background, like how he grew up in Virginia with future major leaguers like Ryan Zimmerman, and how his once promising career was eventually derailed by an ongoing battle with spinal stenosis. Unfortunately, The Captain rarely goes into detail about these events, making entire chapters read like extended Wikipedia pages.
The dearth of detail in The Captain prevents the book from being anything more than a serviceable trip down memory lane. The prose is surprisingly basic, filled with generic descriptions like “the crowd went nuts” and very few quotes from anyone other than Wright himself. No one would expect a book about a scandal-less player to be filled with scandalous tidbits, but that doesn’t excuse the scarce amount of introspection. And, because Wright is such an even-keeled, level-headed person, most of the potentially juicy storylines end with tidy resolutions.
Forgive and Forget
For instance, in the chapter that documents his first World Baseball Classic experience, Wright discusses the awkwardness of playing alongside NL East nemesis Jimmy Rollins. Just two years earlier, Rollins had boasted that the Phillies were the team to beat in the NL East, and then backed that statement up by leading his team to a division title while the Mets tragically collapsed. Unsurprisingly, Wright quickly forgave Rollins and learned to appreciate him when the two suited up for Team USA. Likewise, when the New Yorker published a quote from Fred Wilpon that Wright was “a really good kid” but “not a superstar,” Wright was able to cope with relative ease. While Wright’s capacity for understanding is praiseworthy, The Captain’s retelling of these events is entirely surface level. Rather than delving into the awkward dialogue that arose between Wright and those who publicly disrespected him, The Captain simply gives us vague outlines of these conversations and tells us that all was forgiven.
Best of the Rest
Lest it seem like The Captain is a total missed opportunity, it should be noted that parts of the book are more than worth your time. The book is at its most honest and insightful when Wright recounts the injuries that plagued him in the latter half of his career. When Wright discusses getting beaned by a Matt Cain pitch in 2009, for example, he admits to feeling fear when he stepped into the box. Wright says that in the aftermath of the beaning, he even cried because of the emotional weight of the whole ordeal.
Wright describes the immense guilt that he felt whenever he missed time on the Disabled List, and how confronting Noah Syndergaard for eating lunch in the clubhouse during a Spring Training game was one of his biggest mistakes as a leader. He is also forthright about his frustrations with Citi Field’s original cavernous dimensions, and how he became “obsessed” with increasing his home run total. The Captain greatly benefits from these revelations, as they reveal a vulnerability that simultaneously humanizes Wright and makes the reader empathize with his struggles.
Searle’s Final Say
The Captain pales in comparison to Ron Darling’s recent memoir 108 Stitches, which shed light on the wild antics that go on within a major league clubhouse. Whereas Darling’s work offers a warts-and-all portrait of life in the big leagues, Wright’s book comes across as far more reluctant to offend. The lack of salacious anecdotes could be forgiven if Wright’s musings were more colorful or revealing. David Wright and Anthony DiComo are masters of their respective crafts, which is why The Captain is a letdown in nearly every respect.
