Backstop 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 game of the World Series in what could be his last game after fourteen years in the major leagues, Backstop chronicles his rookie season, takes the reader to Chicago where he finds romance, and reveals his heartbreak in the aftermath of an adulterous affair.
Cheer for Backstop on and off the field as he plays the most important game of his career—haunted by the ghost of his father who passed away before Backstop achieved stardom—and fights to win back the heart of the woman he loves more than the game.
“Look,” I said. “We’ve gotten off to a shaky start. I only came in to ask if you’d like to have dinner tomorrow night, after the game and before I leave for Cleveland.”
“I have dinner every night, whether or not you leave for Cleveland.”
I laughed, although the woman’s demeanor had not portended humor. “That’s funny,” I said. “I meant dinner with me.”
The woman ignored me: “I’m a businesswoman. Do you intend to purchase something?”
I looked at some of the items for sale on the counter-top, my eyes alighting on a dish of blue marbles, maybe three-quarters of an inch in diameter, painted to look like globes, the continents painted on the surface in remarkable detail. I picked one out of the dish and asked how much.
I handed a dollar bill to the woman, who in turn rang up the sale and handed me my change. I exchanged the tiny globe for my change and said: “There, I just gave you the world, so you can’t turn me down.”
The woman sighed, told me: “You come into my shop, insult me, and expect me to be impressed by an eighty-nine cent bauble?”
“Not by the price, no,” I said, “but by all it foretells. I was hoping to make up for some of my previous comments, which were not intended to be insulting.” She seemed to soften a bit, but remained mute. “Come now,” I added, “when was the last time someone offered you the world?”
The woman stiffened again, told me: “That’s none of your concern.”
“No, I suppose not,” I said, “but from your response I can only surmise that whoever he was, he took it back.”
The woman said nothing, but her complexion flushed, more from embarrassment than from anger.
“Superbly crafted with a deft, tender touch, Backstop: A Baseball Love Story In Nine Innings
is a compelling tale of following the true passions of the heart. A truly heartwarming read.” —Apex Reviews
a read where slow development contrasts with fastballs, slow plans with hurried mistakes, and slow reading with quickened excitement and delight. The dialog has a sweet old-fashioned feel, pleasant humor, and serious depth, and the whole is a seriously enjoyable tale.” —Sheila Deeth, author of Divide by Zero
and Amazon Top 1,000 Reviewer
“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