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This Joe DiMaggio autobiography appears to suffer from an acute lack of Marilyn Monroe boffing

May 23, 2012

Athlete autobiographies are almost uniformly dreadful, and I can’t imagine this Joe DiMaggio book, surely a glossy lump of fluff, would be an exception. And one couldn’t expect the Yankee Clipper, who kept much of his private life — except for that Marilyn Monroe business — close to the vest, to write a Jim Bouton Ball Four. And that’s especially true since he was still in the midst of his playing career when this came out (1947). There’s no looking back and settling scores at play here.

That said, I’m certain that young boys like my father would have devoured this book, scrutinizing it with a Talmudic intensity. And lo, unto thee shall come a Joseph, and he will hitteth in fifty-six straight games.

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