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The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball’s Afterlife
Is there life after baseball? Starting from this simple question, The Wax Pack ends up with something much bigger and unexpected—a meditation on the loss of innocence and the gift of impermanence, for both Brad Balukjian and the former ballplayers he tracked down. To get a truly random sample of players, Balukjian followed this wildly absurd but fun-as-hell premise: he took a single pack of baseball cards from 1986 (the first year he collected cards), opened it, chewed the nearly thirty-year-old gum inside, gagged, and then embarked on a quest to find all the players in the pack. Absurd, maybe, but true. He took this trip solo in the summer of 2015, spanning 11,341 miles through thirty states in forty-eight days.
Balukjian actively engaged with his subjects—taking a hitting lesson from Rance Mulliniks, watching kung fu movies with Garry Templeton, and going to the zoo with Don Carman. In the process of finding all the players but one, he discovered an astonishing range of experiences and untold stories in their post-baseball lives, and he realized that we all have more in common with ballplayers than we think. While crisscrossing the country, Balukjian retraced his own past, reconnecting with lost loves and coming to terms with his lifelong battle with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Alternately elegiac and uplifting, The Wax Pack is part baseball nostalgia, part road trip travelogue, and all heart, a reminder that greatness is not found in the stats on the backs of baseball cards but in the personal stories of the men on the front of them.
Balukjian actively engaged with his subjects—taking a hitting lesson from Rance Mulliniks, watching kung fu movies with Garry Templeton, and going to the zoo with Don Carman. In the process of finding all the players but one, he discovered an astonishing range of experiences and untold stories in their post-baseball lives, and he realized that we all have more in common with ballplayers than we think. While crisscrossing the country, Balukjian retraced his own past, reconnecting with lost loves and coming to terms with his lifelong battle with obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Alternately elegiac and uplifting, The Wax Pack is part baseball nostalgia, part road trip travelogue, and all heart, a reminder that greatness is not found in the stats on the backs of baseball cards but in the personal stories of the men on the front of them.
259 pages, Hardcover
First published April 1, 2020
144 people are currently reading
1567 people want to read
About the author
Brad Balukjian
2 books87 followersBrad Balukjian, PhD [Bu-lewk-gee-in] has chosen two careers, journalist and scientist, which converge on pursuit of the truth. He has been published in Rolling Stone, Smithsonian, National Geographic, and many others. His first book, The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball’s Afterlife, hit #7 on the LA Times bestseller list and was named one of NPR’s Best Books of 2020. He is a Research Associate at the California Academy of Sciences, and he discovered 17 species of insects (green flash bugs) in Tahiti, one of which he named after Harrison Ford. He lives on the Road, where he’s in an open relationship with his VCR.
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May 12, 2020
As a girl I loved baseball cards. Yes, I was one of a few girls I knew who collected- there were three of us that I knew of who belonged to our middle school card collecting club. Even in elementary school I would collect pack after pack of cards and carefully organize the cards by team in sleeves and binders. This process would take hours on the weekend as I meticulously filed the cards by year, team, position, etc. Brad Balukjian also collected Topps baseball cards that would come in a pack of fifteen cards with a stick of gum. The market for cards has declined in recent years but as Balukjian has experienced a “quarter life crisis”, he thought back fondly to his childhood memories of card collecting. He decided to purchase a thirty year old pack of Topps cards on eBay and set out to meet each of players depicted on the cardboard. In the Wax Pack, Balukjian set out to discover what happens to ball players after they retire, in his words, baseball’s afterlife.
Brad Balukjian is a product of a nuclear family, two parents and a sister. He was your typical nerd who excelled in school yet still loved baseball, although not the same as your typical fan. Balukjian grew up in New England but was a Phillies fan because Phillies was the closest team he could find that started with the letter F. At least in the 1980s, the Phillies were at the tail end of competitive years led by players including future hall of famed Mike Schmidt, Darren Daulton, and later the controversial Len Dykstra. If Balukjian had liked the Phillies because of Schmidt, I would not begrudge him; however, his favorite player growing up was a mediocre pitcher who finished with a .500 record in less than one hundred career starts. Once I found out this kernel of information, I knew that Balukjian and I did not see eye to eye in terms of our baseball fandom. My favorite players were always the best on the team and I got excited when I actually obtained their baseball cards. Balukjian gravitated toward the average guy on the team and would be thrilled to collect the cards of the average, meddling ball players. With this information in hand, I knew that Balukjian’s cross country journey to meet with retired ballplayers would be interesting to say the least.
Most of the players Balukjian met with were thrilled to speak with him. They were for the most part the underdogs and for a few hours got to experience life as being associated as ball players again. These are the types of players who Balukjian says would go in his personal hall of fame- Randy Ready, Garry Templeton, Rance Mulliniks, and Jaime Cocanower. Each of these players allowed a stranger into their homes and showed him how as middle aged men that their lives are not much different from the average person. Templeton runs “Camp Garry” for his grandchildren- I found this charming, probably one of the best stories in the book. Ready runs a sub shop and is the father of six boys over two marriages, who would have guessed. Yet, he is raising his boys to be productive members of society; if they want to play ball, great, if not, that’s ok too. After reading stories like these, I admit that as much as I’d like to meet the stars, the average ballplayer is probably much more accessible and still has a wealth of big league stories to tell.
Balukjian’s travels took him cross country, and he consumed over one hundred cups of coffee on his trip. His journey included stops with Vince Coleman, who still believes he was the best, and Rick Sutcliffe, a favorite of mine, who still enjoys and works in the baseball as an analyst. Sutcliffe, the Big Red Baron, was the most accessible of the higher end players and provided Balukjian with an emotional meeting for both people. Both Doc Gooden and Carlton Fisk were nowhere to be found for their non meetings with Balukjian, leaving him bitter and more of a fan of the average ballplayer than ever after stops to try to track them down. To be fair, the better the player, the more people want a piece of them and their time, leaving them with almost no privacy, even after leaving the game. After these experiences, Balukjian would rather support a team of Randy Readys than a team of Carlton Fisks, if only for his opinions about their character.
The journey would not be complete without a visit to the now shuttered Topps factory. As card collecting has become both digital and outsourced, even baseball card collecting has become a thing of the past. Balukjian’s journey was an intriguing topic for a book and one of the more anticipated baseball books of this year. As one who collected cards and actually liked the gum, I had been looking forward to this. Yet, after finding out that the author and I do not enjoy the same type of fandom, I was let down, although I must admit spending time with former ball players would still be a unique experience.
3 stars
Brad Balukjian is a product of a nuclear family, two parents and a sister. He was your typical nerd who excelled in school yet still loved baseball, although not the same as your typical fan. Balukjian grew up in New England but was a Phillies fan because Phillies was the closest team he could find that started with the letter F. At least in the 1980s, the Phillies were at the tail end of competitive years led by players including future hall of famed Mike Schmidt, Darren Daulton, and later the controversial Len Dykstra. If Balukjian had liked the Phillies because of Schmidt, I would not begrudge him; however, his favorite player growing up was a mediocre pitcher who finished with a .500 record in less than one hundred career starts. Once I found out this kernel of information, I knew that Balukjian and I did not see eye to eye in terms of our baseball fandom. My favorite players were always the best on the team and I got excited when I actually obtained their baseball cards. Balukjian gravitated toward the average guy on the team and would be thrilled to collect the cards of the average, meddling ball players. With this information in hand, I knew that Balukjian’s cross country journey to meet with retired ballplayers would be interesting to say the least.
Most of the players Balukjian met with were thrilled to speak with him. They were for the most part the underdogs and for a few hours got to experience life as being associated as ball players again. These are the types of players who Balukjian says would go in his personal hall of fame- Randy Ready, Garry Templeton, Rance Mulliniks, and Jaime Cocanower. Each of these players allowed a stranger into their homes and showed him how as middle aged men that their lives are not much different from the average person. Templeton runs “Camp Garry” for his grandchildren- I found this charming, probably one of the best stories in the book. Ready runs a sub shop and is the father of six boys over two marriages, who would have guessed. Yet, he is raising his boys to be productive members of society; if they want to play ball, great, if not, that’s ok too. After reading stories like these, I admit that as much as I’d like to meet the stars, the average ballplayer is probably much more accessible and still has a wealth of big league stories to tell.
Balukjian’s travels took him cross country, and he consumed over one hundred cups of coffee on his trip. His journey included stops with Vince Coleman, who still believes he was the best, and Rick Sutcliffe, a favorite of mine, who still enjoys and works in the baseball as an analyst. Sutcliffe, the Big Red Baron, was the most accessible of the higher end players and provided Balukjian with an emotional meeting for both people. Both Doc Gooden and Carlton Fisk were nowhere to be found for their non meetings with Balukjian, leaving him bitter and more of a fan of the average ballplayer than ever after stops to try to track them down. To be fair, the better the player, the more people want a piece of them and their time, leaving them with almost no privacy, even after leaving the game. After these experiences, Balukjian would rather support a team of Randy Readys than a team of Carlton Fisks, if only for his opinions about their character.
The journey would not be complete without a visit to the now shuttered Topps factory. As card collecting has become both digital and outsourced, even baseball card collecting has become a thing of the past. Balukjian’s journey was an intriguing topic for a book and one of the more anticipated baseball books of this year. As one who collected cards and actually liked the gum, I had been looking forward to this. Yet, after finding out that the author and I do not enjoy the same type of fandom, I was let down, although I must admit spending time with former ball players would still be a unique experience.
3 stars
June 1, 2020
Genuinely baffled by the positive reviews of this book.
Conceptually? 5 stars.
But the actual execution of this book was, for the most part, unsatisfying. Balukjian repeatedly calls himself a journalist, and hides behind "following the story" as a rationale for asking the players questions on topics that obviously make them uncomfortable, but there's no clearly defined journalistic assignment or project here; his stated goal is simply to ask them what life is like after being a professional athlete in a rather broad sense. If this is the case, then why press on the traumas and private moments of their lives (from before their playing days) on which they deserve privacy? I'm thinking specifically about some of his questions for Garry Templeton here, but there were a number of other points in the book where I was embarrassed for the author by his questions for the players -- his interactions with Carlton Fisk were especially awkward, unprofessional, and supremely cringeworthy. A "journalist," indeed.
This touches on one of the other major weak points of this book. While Balukjian fancies himself a journalist, he also insists on describing the awkward Tinder encounters and drunken hook-ups that he has during this trip, which is especially jarring to read when juxtaposed with his descriptions of his discussions with players who are now sober. These passages read more like awkward personal essays/memoir, but if they're Balukjian's attempts at Gonzo journalism, it just feels wholly incompatible with the premise of this project. The project of the book is incoherent, the author is really difficult to sympathize with as a reader, and I'm genuinely disappointed because the concept behind this book is so intriguing.
Conceptually? 5 stars.
But the actual execution of this book was, for the most part, unsatisfying. Balukjian repeatedly calls himself a journalist, and hides behind "following the story" as a rationale for asking the players questions on topics that obviously make them uncomfortable, but there's no clearly defined journalistic assignment or project here; his stated goal is simply to ask them what life is like after being a professional athlete in a rather broad sense. If this is the case, then why press on the traumas and private moments of their lives (from before their playing days) on which they deserve privacy? I'm thinking specifically about some of his questions for Garry Templeton here, but there were a number of other points in the book where I was embarrassed for the author by his questions for the players -- his interactions with Carlton Fisk were especially awkward, unprofessional, and supremely cringeworthy. A "journalist," indeed.
This touches on one of the other major weak points of this book. While Balukjian fancies himself a journalist, he also insists on describing the awkward Tinder encounters and drunken hook-ups that he has during this trip, which is especially jarring to read when juxtaposed with his descriptions of his discussions with players who are now sober. These passages read more like awkward personal essays/memoir, but if they're Balukjian's attempts at Gonzo journalism, it just feels wholly incompatible with the premise of this project. The project of the book is incoherent, the author is really difficult to sympathize with as a reader, and I'm genuinely disappointed because the concept behind this book is so intriguing.
July 11, 2022
This is an interesting premise. Take a random pack of unopened baseball cards and try to meet every player in the pack. 1986 Topps. 15 cards. One Hall of Famer, Carlton Fisk. One player who had the talent to be an all-time great, Dwight Gooden. Cy Young winner, Rick Sutcliffe. Garry Templeton and Vince Coleman, two guys who were minor stars for a short time. Then a bunch of journeymen, Rance Mullinicks, Jamie Cocanauer, Randy Ready, Richie Hebner, Gary Pettis, Lee Mazilli, Don Carmen, and Steve Yeager. Also in the pack was Al
Cowens who had already passed away a decade earlier.
Our protagonist sets off on his summer break to cross the country and racks up 9,000 miles or so. While the players all struggle to adapt to their post playing career, the author struggles with the meaning of his own life. Baseball is something he experienced with both parents. He went to games with dad and he went to baseball card shops with mom. The parents are now divorced, and the cards are in storage. He’s nearly 40 by all calculations with a respectable day job. This quest is an attempt to reconnect with his youth by connecting with these players as he only knew as pieces of cardboard.
The interviews with the ballplayers themselves are not memorable as I had hoped. It's not a Glory of Their Times approach where he gets the players talking about how the game has changed or what it was like hitting Blyleven’s curve or Ryan’s fast ball. It's more philosophical or psychological about how world class athletes are finished when half their lives have yet to be lived. How does one go on after the most substantial parts of life are complete? Each ballplayer has their unique take on retirement and yet there are common themes the author finds along the way, especially the importance of fathers. And you leave the book thinking the author's relationship with his own father is the better for it.
Listen to the author talk about this book with Dennis Miller.
https://overcast.fm/+QoWVtTaGU
Cowens who had already passed away a decade earlier.
Our protagonist sets off on his summer break to cross the country and racks up 9,000 miles or so. While the players all struggle to adapt to their post playing career, the author struggles with the meaning of his own life. Baseball is something he experienced with both parents. He went to games with dad and he went to baseball card shops with mom. The parents are now divorced, and the cards are in storage. He’s nearly 40 by all calculations with a respectable day job. This quest is an attempt to reconnect with his youth by connecting with these players as he only knew as pieces of cardboard.
The interviews with the ballplayers themselves are not memorable as I had hoped. It's not a Glory of Their Times approach where he gets the players talking about how the game has changed or what it was like hitting Blyleven’s curve or Ryan’s fast ball. It's more philosophical or psychological about how world class athletes are finished when half their lives have yet to be lived. How does one go on after the most substantial parts of life are complete? Each ballplayer has their unique take on retirement and yet there are common themes the author finds along the way, especially the importance of fathers. And you leave the book thinking the author's relationship with his own father is the better for it.
Listen to the author talk about this book with Dennis Miller.
https://overcast.fm/+QoWVtTaGU
July 23, 2020
A 5-star premise, one of the 10 best book covers I have ever seen, ... and a below average to mediocre writing performance from an author who inexplicably thought readers cared about him rather than the former players he tried to interview.
This could have been good - random dude sitting at a game thinks back to his card-collecting days and says 'Hey, wonder whatever happened to these guys'. "I've had that same thought," says me, and probably tens of thousands of others. Had this been the end of the focus on the author we might have had something here, but instead a solid 40% of the book is about the thoroughly unmemorable and oft annoying Balukjian. (Bro, you live in the Bay area and went to Duke. You'd be hard pressed to find 500 people in this country less interesting than you.)
So, yeah, he's a dick to Carlton Fisk, bashes Oklahoma and Florida for their lack of diversity while failing to reflect on his own home's lack of it (California's Gini coefficient for economic diversity ranks 47th of 50. Take a seat), and generally inserts himself into the story when readers who aren't his friends and family straight up will not care. We came for the players, bro! Not you!
Anyway, the best chapter was the one on Randy Ready and after reading for about the fifth time that Vince Coleman is an asshole who apparently possessed a single talent in this life (the man could steal bases) I am starting to believe that may be true. Also, Dwight Gooden's addiction issues must be reeeallll bad, man.
Three stars is a gift, as this was a two-star performance. But the cover is great! And it's such a neat idea. Maybe in the future a competent writer, one who realizes he's not the star of the tale, will do the same for a pack of '88 Fleer, '89 Donruss, or '93 Upper Deck, as Balukjian has done here for '86 Topps.
This could have been good - random dude sitting at a game thinks back to his card-collecting days and says 'Hey, wonder whatever happened to these guys'. "I've had that same thought," says me, and probably tens of thousands of others. Had this been the end of the focus on the author we might have had something here, but instead a solid 40% of the book is about the thoroughly unmemorable and oft annoying Balukjian. (Bro, you live in the Bay area and went to Duke. You'd be hard pressed to find 500 people in this country less interesting than you.)
So, yeah, he's a dick to Carlton Fisk, bashes Oklahoma and Florida for their lack of diversity while failing to reflect on his own home's lack of it (California's Gini coefficient for economic diversity ranks 47th of 50. Take a seat), and generally inserts himself into the story when readers who aren't his friends and family straight up will not care. We came for the players, bro! Not you!
Anyway, the best chapter was the one on Randy Ready and after reading for about the fifth time that Vince Coleman is an asshole who apparently possessed a single talent in this life (the man could steal bases) I am starting to believe that may be true. Also, Dwight Gooden's addiction issues must be reeeallll bad, man.
Three stars is a gift, as this was a two-star performance. But the cover is great! And it's such a neat idea. Maybe in the future a competent writer, one who realizes he's not the star of the tale, will do the same for a pack of '88 Fleer, '89 Donruss, or '93 Upper Deck, as Balukjian has done here for '86 Topps.
December 31, 2020
This book is first and foremost about its author. The whole part about meeting the ballplayers is really just window dressing and underwhelms.
The book was published in 2020 but the events take place in 2015. There are unhidden spoilers below.
The target audience will mostly care about the baseball players so let's start there:
Each chapter begins with a forgettable epigraph, that reads like a bromide, relating to the player being highlighted followed by quick data about the number of days into the project, the dates relating to the chapter, cumulative miles driven, cumulative cups of coffee consumed and the city of departure to the city of arrival. I'm not sure if it's just a log or if it's a playful way of mimicking the stats on the back of the baseball cards. A picture of the front of the card for each player is displayed within each chapter. If the author met the player the card is autographed. The back of the card is not pictured, a few statistics are provided here and there but there's nothing about lifetime stats or career earnings.
14 player cards are highlighted and the author technically meets 10 but one meeting is so cursory the true number is 9 (64%, not impressive). He spends an hour with one player, a few hours with a few more players and a little more time with the rest. The players he spends time with come across as nice guys but it's impossible to know if they are or if they're putting on a good show for an hour or two. All the players he meets are treated kindly if not reverentially.
The author seems overly determined to prove his bona fides as a journalist by asking a few difficult personal questions here and there. The author completely misses the boat. I don't care if someone had a difficult relationship with their father. This is what I want to know: How did they become so good?; How much money did they earn?; How did their careers end?; Do they have any lingering health issues?; What kind of house do they live in?; What cars do they drive?; What do they do during the day?; How much is their MLB pension?
The author doesn't spend any time with five players so those chapters are virtually all filler. Gary Pettis is barred from meeting the author because he's on the coaching staff of the Astros and team policy forbids him from meeting with the press during the season. Vince Coleman refuses the author's invitation to meet and gets torched throughout. (That comes across as sour grapes.) Doc Gooden goes MIA. Carlton Fisk (depicted as a jerk) declines the author's invitation to meet and makes only a brief cameo, and Al Cowens is deceased.
While the book is ostensibly about what happened with 14 MLB players 39 years later it's really about the author's relationship with his father; his relationships with women; his battles with OCD; his unsubtle false modesty; his purported braininess; him, him, him. He portrays himself as a quirky regular guy (favorite player is Don Carman who is coincidentally one of the players he meets, favorite letter is f, as a child preferred Bert over Ernie) with no money (rents a room in Oakland, CA, drives a 13 year old Honda Accord) and a soft spot for life's underdogs. But he comes across as a bit of a creep when he talks about his Tinder account, past girlfriends and women he wishes to put in compromising positions (see notes about Sophia's ample cleavage). Ample cleavage? Are you kidding me? (Another sign of a writing hack is when an author describes a round object as an orb as Balukjian did when describing a fishing bobber. See highlights.)
I had two additional issues that made me uncomfortable: the author paid the Goodens for access (props for disclosing it I guess) and he spied the names of players who were in therapy with Don Carman (who was working as a sports psychologist) and disclosed them and listed the names of a few others he speculated were in therapy. Not cool and not recommended.
The book was published in 2020 but the events take place in 2015. There are unhidden spoilers below.
The target audience will mostly care about the baseball players so let's start there:
Each chapter begins with a forgettable epigraph, that reads like a bromide, relating to the player being highlighted followed by quick data about the number of days into the project, the dates relating to the chapter, cumulative miles driven, cumulative cups of coffee consumed and the city of departure to the city of arrival. I'm not sure if it's just a log or if it's a playful way of mimicking the stats on the back of the baseball cards. A picture of the front of the card for each player is displayed within each chapter. If the author met the player the card is autographed. The back of the card is not pictured, a few statistics are provided here and there but there's nothing about lifetime stats or career earnings.
14 player cards are highlighted and the author technically meets 10 but one meeting is so cursory the true number is 9 (64%, not impressive). He spends an hour with one player, a few hours with a few more players and a little more time with the rest. The players he spends time with come across as nice guys but it's impossible to know if they are or if they're putting on a good show for an hour or two. All the players he meets are treated kindly if not reverentially.
The author seems overly determined to prove his bona fides as a journalist by asking a few difficult personal questions here and there. The author completely misses the boat. I don't care if someone had a difficult relationship with their father. This is what I want to know: How did they become so good?; How much money did they earn?; How did their careers end?; Do they have any lingering health issues?; What kind of house do they live in?; What cars do they drive?; What do they do during the day?; How much is their MLB pension?
The author doesn't spend any time with five players so those chapters are virtually all filler. Gary Pettis is barred from meeting the author because he's on the coaching staff of the Astros and team policy forbids him from meeting with the press during the season. Vince Coleman refuses the author's invitation to meet and gets torched throughout. (That comes across as sour grapes.) Doc Gooden goes MIA. Carlton Fisk (depicted as a jerk) declines the author's invitation to meet and makes only a brief cameo, and Al Cowens is deceased.
While the book is ostensibly about what happened with 14 MLB players 39 years later it's really about the author's relationship with his father; his relationships with women; his battles with OCD; his unsubtle false modesty; his purported braininess; him, him, him. He portrays himself as a quirky regular guy (favorite player is Don Carman who is coincidentally one of the players he meets, favorite letter is f, as a child preferred Bert over Ernie) with no money (rents a room in Oakland, CA, drives a 13 year old Honda Accord) and a soft spot for life's underdogs. But he comes across as a bit of a creep when he talks about his Tinder account, past girlfriends and women he wishes to put in compromising positions (see notes about Sophia's ample cleavage). Ample cleavage? Are you kidding me? (Another sign of a writing hack is when an author describes a round object as an orb as Balukjian did when describing a fishing bobber. See highlights.)
I had two additional issues that made me uncomfortable: the author paid the Goodens for access (props for disclosing it I guess) and he spied the names of players who were in therapy with Don Carman (who was working as a sports psychologist) and disclosed them and listed the names of a few others he speculated were in therapy. Not cool and not recommended.
December 16, 2019
The concept of this book sounds very simple, yet it is one that is unique among sports books which are available. The author, Brad Balukjian, opens a pack of 1986 Topps baseball cards nearly 30 years after it was purchased (the book takes place in 2015) and sets out on a road trip to learn what each of the 14 players in the pack have done in their lives since the cards were issued. What follows is an amazing journey that the reader will enjoy while riding along with the author while he sets out to meet these players he calls the “Wax Pack.”
The fame and skills of the players range from a Hall of Fame player (Carlton Fisk) to those with very short and non-descript careers (Jamie Cocanower), from the very famous (Dwight Gooden) to the virtually forgotten (Al Cowens). Balukjian tells a story about each player, whether he actually talks to that man or not, that usually has little to do with baseball and more to do with what has happened to each man after baseball. These can range from very uplifting and inspiring, as was the case for this reviewer when reading about Gary Templeton’s story, to very poignant and heartbreaking, such as Cocanower’s revelation about his wife’s diagnosis of cancer and the tragedy that befell the family of Randy Ready. Some men still sound angry, such as Vince Coleman, while some are still very happy with what the game provided them, such as Rick Sutcliffe.
The most entertaining stories are two in which he did not speak to the player for an interview, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. In one, Balukjian ended up attending a Houston Astros game and was close to meeting Gary Petis, who was working as the third base coach of the Astros at the time. How he ended up at the game makes for an entertaining story, as does Balukjian’s adventure of trying to connect with Fisk. There are actually two chapters on this as after failing to connect with Fisk at his home, Balukjian drives out to Cooperstown for the 2015 Hall of Fame induction weekend and spends $60 for the chance to meet Fisk for about 30 seconds while Fisk signed his card. What Balukjian does in that very quick encounter was probably the funniest story in the entire book – but alas, it did not get the desired result as Fisk still does not provide that story for the author.
The author’s own personal story, however, is also intertwined throughout his road trip and it adds special meaning to his meetings with the former baseball players. He describes his relationship with his parents throughout the book, leading up to a “Field of Dreams”-esque meeting with his father. He also makes a side trip to visit an old girlfriend, the only one that he mentions in the book but a woman for whom he still believes was the best one he had. Both of these stories will make the reader have the same gamut of emotions that his meetings with the players evoked.
One last item that should be mentioned about the book – it begins and ends with descriptions of how the cards and bubble gum are packaged, complete with a short story of an employee who works in the factory that packages the cards. Anyone who has tasted the bubble gum – a term used loosely to describe that hard stick – can relate to Balukjian’s torture when he consumed the gum.
Those baseball fans who had in their possession baseball cards at one time or another will certainly want to read this book, but one does not have to be a baseball fan to thoroughly enjoy this book that is not only thought-provoking but also emotion-provoking as the reader will fell a large range of emotions while reading it.
I wish to thank University of Nebraska Press for providing a copy of the book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
https://sportsbookguy.blogspot.com/20...
The fame and skills of the players range from a Hall of Fame player (Carlton Fisk) to those with very short and non-descript careers (Jamie Cocanower), from the very famous (Dwight Gooden) to the virtually forgotten (Al Cowens). Balukjian tells a story about each player, whether he actually talks to that man or not, that usually has little to do with baseball and more to do with what has happened to each man after baseball. These can range from very uplifting and inspiring, as was the case for this reviewer when reading about Gary Templeton’s story, to very poignant and heartbreaking, such as Cocanower’s revelation about his wife’s diagnosis of cancer and the tragedy that befell the family of Randy Ready. Some men still sound angry, such as Vince Coleman, while some are still very happy with what the game provided them, such as Rick Sutcliffe.
The most entertaining stories are two in which he did not speak to the player for an interview, but it wasn’t for the lack of trying. In one, Balukjian ended up attending a Houston Astros game and was close to meeting Gary Petis, who was working as the third base coach of the Astros at the time. How he ended up at the game makes for an entertaining story, as does Balukjian’s adventure of trying to connect with Fisk. There are actually two chapters on this as after failing to connect with Fisk at his home, Balukjian drives out to Cooperstown for the 2015 Hall of Fame induction weekend and spends $60 for the chance to meet Fisk for about 30 seconds while Fisk signed his card. What Balukjian does in that very quick encounter was probably the funniest story in the entire book – but alas, it did not get the desired result as Fisk still does not provide that story for the author.
The author’s own personal story, however, is also intertwined throughout his road trip and it adds special meaning to his meetings with the former baseball players. He describes his relationship with his parents throughout the book, leading up to a “Field of Dreams”-esque meeting with his father. He also makes a side trip to visit an old girlfriend, the only one that he mentions in the book but a woman for whom he still believes was the best one he had. Both of these stories will make the reader have the same gamut of emotions that his meetings with the players evoked.
One last item that should be mentioned about the book – it begins and ends with descriptions of how the cards and bubble gum are packaged, complete with a short story of an employee who works in the factory that packages the cards. Anyone who has tasted the bubble gum – a term used loosely to describe that hard stick – can relate to Balukjian’s torture when he consumed the gum.
Those baseball fans who had in their possession baseball cards at one time or another will certainly want to read this book, but one does not have to be a baseball fan to thoroughly enjoy this book that is not only thought-provoking but also emotion-provoking as the reader will fell a large range of emotions while reading it.
I wish to thank University of Nebraska Press for providing a copy of the book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
https://sportsbookguy.blogspot.com/20...
June 22, 2021
Love the premise. Loved some of the subject matter, as many were players I either grew up with or knew of in the years when my attention temporarily turned slightly away from baseball (late teens/early 20s). The problem here is the personal stuff. It didn't resonate and felt like he was purposely indulging in some antics to just have something with which to pad the book. I'll admit, I wish an older - or at least more mature - writer had taken on the task. He sort of lost credibility when he got hammered and slept in a ditch, or whatever, and then puts that in the book. I would expect that from a college student but not a 30-something college professor.
Overall, I think the concept carries the book even if the execution (interviews with players and families) was also hit and miss. The author says he won't open another pack and write a sequel but I'd love for him to give the OK for someone else to do so - although it's technically not required for him to do so.
I'd like to see someone jump back a decade a open a late 1970s pack and do the same thing. Or even something a bit different. Pick a year and randomize the numbers of cards in that set. Pull out 20 numbers. Research, interview and write about at least 10. Probably would take another person with summers off if not a retired actual journalist. Ideally, in either case, it would be a baseball card collector doing this with his own hand-collated set.
Overall, I think the concept carries the book even if the execution (interviews with players and families) was also hit and miss. The author says he won't open another pack and write a sequel but I'd love for him to give the OK for someone else to do so - although it's technically not required for him to do so.
I'd like to see someone jump back a decade a open a late 1970s pack and do the same thing. Or even something a bit different. Pick a year and randomize the numbers of cards in that set. Pull out 20 numbers. Research, interview and write about at least 10. Probably would take another person with summers off if not a retired actual journalist. Ideally, in either case, it would be a baseball card collector doing this with his own hand-collated set.
April 21, 2021
What did you collect when you were 15? ✨
Brad Balukjian, now a college professor and saddled with life’s complexities, collected baseball cards in 1986. He returns to his youthful roots by purchasing a pack of 15 Topps cards (The Wax Pack) and makes a 11,000+ mile trip tracking down where the players are now. The journey offers a unique odyssey to reflect on his life and made a few things clearer for me.
A perfect baseball season read. Play ball! ⚾️
Brad Balukjian, now a college professor and saddled with life’s complexities, collected baseball cards in 1986. He returns to his youthful roots by purchasing a pack of 15 Topps cards (The Wax Pack) and makes a 11,000+ mile trip tracking down where the players are now. The journey offers a unique odyssey to reflect on his life and made a few things clearer for me.
A perfect baseball season read. Play ball! ⚾️
June 19, 2020
In this book whose brilliant premise is only partly achieved, Balukjian decides to buy an unopened pack of Topps baseball cards from 1986, track down the players he found in the pack, and .... well, it isn't entirely clear at that point - would Balukjian hang out with them? interview them? some of each? An epic road trip ensues, with the author driving 11,000 miles in the summer of 2015 to track down the Wax Packers (his term). Among them is one hall of famer, Carlton Fisk, some other prominent names (Doc Gooden, Rick Sutcliffe, etc.), and several average players (Don Carman, Randy Ready, etc.). Balukjian prefers the average players, and claims to have always done so - his antipathy for Fisk, in particular, who refuses to participate, becomes a leitmotif for the author's 'ordinary people' schtick (Spoiler: Fisk was one of my heroes). If there's a unifying theme, it is Balukjian's desire to understand the impact of baseball on people - both the players and himself - and, in particular, to grapple with how people - again, the players but also Balukjian himself - deal with life after the glory days of ballplaying (or, in the case of a fan, of the magical golden age of young fandom that typically arrives between ages 8 and 12) are over.
It's difficult for me to decide how to slot this book into a genre. I expected it to be a BASEBALL book, but while baseball is its organizing principle, there is little here about baseball that is new or interesting, aside from a few anecdotes about players from the 1970s and 1980s. I guess I expected something deeper or more profound from the baseball side. But, since Balukjian is a biology professor first and an amateur writer second, and not a trained journalist or sportswriter at all, it is probably too much to ask for a profound book of baseball analysis or appreciation. What do I mean by that? well, although Balukjian admits to having done a lot of research in preparation for his trip, and the narrative occasionally reveals that he has prepared himself to push (gently) on a particular episode from a player's past when he meets that player, Balukjian doesn't seem to have developed a uniform set of questions or talking points for his subjects. I'd have thought that he'd have developed a standard set of questions, and asked them in a more journalistic way - but since he's not a trained journalist, and because of his own personality issues, he ends up seeming intimidated and, at times cringingly passive. So in several cases there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the meeting with the player, with Balukjian merely hanging out and shooting the breeze with his target. I mean, in one sense that's pretty cool - who wouldn't like to hang out with Garry Templeton or Rick Sutcliffe? But it doesn't really equate to quality, or consistent, conversations, and especially quality conversations about baseball.
So if it's not a baseball book, or, perhaps, if it's not primarily a baseball book, what is it? I suppose in one sense it's a set of stories with a common theme - how do men readjust to the 'normal' world after living in a particular bubble (the baseball bubble) for between 5 and 25 years? That's pretty interesting, I suppose, but again the inconsistency of the interviewing makes the results pretty generic. We learn that some guys are doing well, and others not so well. The most well-adjusted have accepted what Balukjian sees as a guiding principle, namely that you can't worry about the past, only your current actions. Those that accept this are happy in second or third careers, and typically have happy families; others, who cannot or won't, are more troubled. Fair enough. I guess I'd admit that focusing on the nachleben (or, afterlife) of baseball stars is an interesting decision, but I'm not convinced that it couldn't be done better by someone else.
There's one more element to the book's mixture of genres: the journey of authorial self-discovery. Again, this is a hoary tradition, in which a writer or viewer learns something about himself/herself through the prism of baseball (or some other sport), and Balukjian indulges in it shamelessly. Indeed, this is the part I had the most trouble with. I'd say that 50% of the book is really about Balukjian, and his myriad problems - OCD, his lost 'one true love' (whom he looks up in Houston while looking for Gary Pettis), his relationship with his parents, his impulsive and sometimes self-destructive behavior, etc. Another reviewer wondered if this was an attempt at gonzjo or new journalism, in which the writer is as much a part of the story as the putative subject. Perhaps. If so, it is jarring, at least for me - Balukjian spills too much about himself - do we really need to hear about all the times he's tried to pick up women (and sometimes succeeded)? do we need to hear about his Tinder date with Sophia in FL? how about the drunken debauchery on the first night of the trip that literally leaves him passed out on the side of the freeway? or even his problems with OCD? His anecdotal mention of having 'frist tried cocaine' in Vegas? I'm no prude, but these elements of 'grit' (or whatever - does he think of them as 'real'?) don't help the book much, and sort of turned me off.
In the end, I'm glad I read the book. I think the concept is great, and wonder what someone like Roger Angell, Roger Kahn, Thomas Boswell, etc. could have done with it. In the end, it reads like what it is - a slightly odd fan's semi-professional writing debut.
It's difficult for me to decide how to slot this book into a genre. I expected it to be a BASEBALL book, but while baseball is its organizing principle, there is little here about baseball that is new or interesting, aside from a few anecdotes about players from the 1970s and 1980s. I guess I expected something deeper or more profound from the baseball side. But, since Balukjian is a biology professor first and an amateur writer second, and not a trained journalist or sportswriter at all, it is probably too much to ask for a profound book of baseball analysis or appreciation. What do I mean by that? well, although Balukjian admits to having done a lot of research in preparation for his trip, and the narrative occasionally reveals that he has prepared himself to push (gently) on a particular episode from a player's past when he meets that player, Balukjian doesn't seem to have developed a uniform set of questions or talking points for his subjects. I'd have thought that he'd have developed a standard set of questions, and asked them in a more journalistic way - but since he's not a trained journalist, and because of his own personality issues, he ends up seeming intimidated and, at times cringingly passive. So in several cases there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the meeting with the player, with Balukjian merely hanging out and shooting the breeze with his target. I mean, in one sense that's pretty cool - who wouldn't like to hang out with Garry Templeton or Rick Sutcliffe? But it doesn't really equate to quality, or consistent, conversations, and especially quality conversations about baseball.
So if it's not a baseball book, or, perhaps, if it's not primarily a baseball book, what is it? I suppose in one sense it's a set of stories with a common theme - how do men readjust to the 'normal' world after living in a particular bubble (the baseball bubble) for between 5 and 25 years? That's pretty interesting, I suppose, but again the inconsistency of the interviewing makes the results pretty generic. We learn that some guys are doing well, and others not so well. The most well-adjusted have accepted what Balukjian sees as a guiding principle, namely that you can't worry about the past, only your current actions. Those that accept this are happy in second or third careers, and typically have happy families; others, who cannot or won't, are more troubled. Fair enough. I guess I'd admit that focusing on the nachleben (or, afterlife) of baseball stars is an interesting decision, but I'm not convinced that it couldn't be done better by someone else.
There's one more element to the book's mixture of genres: the journey of authorial self-discovery. Again, this is a hoary tradition, in which a writer or viewer learns something about himself/herself through the prism of baseball (or some other sport), and Balukjian indulges in it shamelessly. Indeed, this is the part I had the most trouble with. I'd say that 50% of the book is really about Balukjian, and his myriad problems - OCD, his lost 'one true love' (whom he looks up in Houston while looking for Gary Pettis), his relationship with his parents, his impulsive and sometimes self-destructive behavior, etc. Another reviewer wondered if this was an attempt at gonzjo or new journalism, in which the writer is as much a part of the story as the putative subject. Perhaps. If so, it is jarring, at least for me - Balukjian spills too much about himself - do we really need to hear about all the times he's tried to pick up women (and sometimes succeeded)? do we need to hear about his Tinder date with Sophia in FL? how about the drunken debauchery on the first night of the trip that literally leaves him passed out on the side of the freeway? or even his problems with OCD? His anecdotal mention of having 'frist tried cocaine' in Vegas? I'm no prude, but these elements of 'grit' (or whatever - does he think of them as 'real'?) don't help the book much, and sort of turned me off.
In the end, I'm glad I read the book. I think the concept is great, and wonder what someone like Roger Angell, Roger Kahn, Thomas Boswell, etc. could have done with it. In the end, it reads like what it is - a slightly odd fan's semi-professional writing debut.
October 20, 2020
(Oct 2020) - A very nostalgic book for me since I opened so many Wax Packs in the 1985-1989 time period. It is a neat concept - open a pack of vintage cards and seek out the players in the pack for interviews. However, this book is so much more than a baseball interview book. Yes, there are stories about these players from 30+ years ago with an update on what they are doing now, but the author does a great job going beyond the run of the mill of known facts about the players. This book really digs into the human experience and has some great life lessons. I highly recommend it to anyone.
March 15, 2021
It's a great idea for a book, and excellently executed.
The idea: Go on ebay to buy an old pack of baseball cards from the author's childhood (1986 in this case, the first year he started collecting cards). Then track down the 15 players from the card to see how they're down.
He couldn't get ahold of everyone. One person (Al Cowens) is dead. A second (Vince Coleman) he couldn't find out about. A third (Carlton Fisk) isn't interested, an a fourth (Dr. K) stiffs him. And, and one card was a checklist.
But what makes the book come alive are the random players from his wax pack. You read about the tragic story of Randy Ready's first wife. You learn about Don Carmen's terrible dad and how his death affected Don. They're not all tragic - Rance Mullinicks is doing well, as our others. Balukjian is really able to make these guys come alive. But even the guys who aren't forthcoming are still interesting. Richie Hebner gies Brad stock quotes in their hour together, but you learn about him anyway when Brad visits Richie's brother.
Even the guys Balukjian doesn't get to meet by and large come alive here, as you learn what he learns about them when he tracks them down. No, he doesn't meet Dwight Gooden, but he spends time with Dwight Jr. when his dad is a no-show for the interview, and that gives us some insight. Al Cowens is dead, but he's able to talk to see his brother and talk to his son.
One major theme in this book is fathers and sons. So many of these guys had broken relatinships with their dads. Rick Sutcliffe's dad just took off on the family, for instance. Randy Ready's dad wasn't bad, but he worked all the time and died young. And those with good fathers, they tended to have really good fathers. Lee Mazzili remembers celebrating with his dad when he was picked in the first round, for instance. The presence or absence of fathers really seems to be a fuel to so many of these guys' careers.
Balukjian talks about his own life several times in this book as well. Often this sort of thing comes off as self-centered naval gazing, but it works here. Balukjian is a good writer. Maybe the single most touching moment in the entire book comes from a talk he has with his own father later in this book.
One odd thing: Balukjian went on his quest in 2015, but the book only came out in 2020. I wish the book noted that earlier, because I kept having an odd time adjusted whiplash while reading it.
The idea: Go on ebay to buy an old pack of baseball cards from the author's childhood (1986 in this case, the first year he started collecting cards). Then track down the 15 players from the card to see how they're down.
He couldn't get ahold of everyone. One person (Al Cowens) is dead. A second (Vince Coleman) he couldn't find out about. A third (Carlton Fisk) isn't interested, an a fourth (Dr. K) stiffs him. And, and one card was a checklist.
But what makes the book come alive are the random players from his wax pack. You read about the tragic story of Randy Ready's first wife. You learn about Don Carmen's terrible dad and how his death affected Don. They're not all tragic - Rance Mullinicks is doing well, as our others. Balukjian is really able to make these guys come alive. But even the guys who aren't forthcoming are still interesting. Richie Hebner gies Brad stock quotes in their hour together, but you learn about him anyway when Brad visits Richie's brother.
Even the guys Balukjian doesn't get to meet by and large come alive here, as you learn what he learns about them when he tracks them down. No, he doesn't meet Dwight Gooden, but he spends time with Dwight Jr. when his dad is a no-show for the interview, and that gives us some insight. Al Cowens is dead, but he's able to talk to see his brother and talk to his son.
One major theme in this book is fathers and sons. So many of these guys had broken relatinships with their dads. Rick Sutcliffe's dad just took off on the family, for instance. Randy Ready's dad wasn't bad, but he worked all the time and died young. And those with good fathers, they tended to have really good fathers. Lee Mazzili remembers celebrating with his dad when he was picked in the first round, for instance. The presence or absence of fathers really seems to be a fuel to so many of these guys' careers.
Balukjian talks about his own life several times in this book as well. Often this sort of thing comes off as self-centered naval gazing, but it works here. Balukjian is a good writer. Maybe the single most touching moment in the entire book comes from a talk he has with his own father later in this book.
One odd thing: Balukjian went on his quest in 2015, but the book only came out in 2020. I wish the book noted that earlier, because I kept having an odd time adjusted whiplash while reading it.
November 9, 2019
Standing Ovation!
Pretty cool concept for a book: open up a pack of baseball cards from your childhood (in this case, 1986) and then drive across the country to meet with each of the players from the pack (called "The Waxpackers"), interviewing each one of the them to ask them about their life after baseball.
What did author Brad Balukjian learn? "Most people have one life to make it count... baseball players have two."
This book would appeal to many different target audiences, including those who grew up in the 1980s and collected baseball cards, anyone who loves biographies, and those who enjoy a great read from an author with a great sense of humor who is also self-aware (One of my favorite quotes: "Scrawny, industrious, and shy, I was picked on a lot as a kid--throw in a debilitating stutter, and I had season tickets to the nerd table in the lunchroom). I found him to be just as he describes Waxpacker Rick Sutcliffe: open, introspective, thoughtful.
As a baseball fan, I feel like I got more than I expected from this book. I liked reading about the players I remembered, but I also enjoyed Balukjian's own story because of the way he presented it in parallel to each baseball player's past and present. I wanted him to be successful in his personal life, and the book wouldn't have been as good if he had left his own struggles and thoughts out. His own candor enriched the quality of the story. He also had some fun at the expense of the few Waxpackers who refused to meet with him, and I found that refreshing as well.
Maybe the coolest thing about this book is that the reader doesn't have to be a baseball card collector to enjoy it. This is a book about relationships, disappointments, and perseverance. It is well-written and honest. I even got the sense that most of The Waxpackers enjoyed the author's visits as much as he did.
Nice work!
Pretty cool concept for a book: open up a pack of baseball cards from your childhood (in this case, 1986) and then drive across the country to meet with each of the players from the pack (called "The Waxpackers"), interviewing each one of the them to ask them about their life after baseball.
What did author Brad Balukjian learn? "Most people have one life to make it count... baseball players have two."
This book would appeal to many different target audiences, including those who grew up in the 1980s and collected baseball cards, anyone who loves biographies, and those who enjoy a great read from an author with a great sense of humor who is also self-aware (One of my favorite quotes: "Scrawny, industrious, and shy, I was picked on a lot as a kid--throw in a debilitating stutter, and I had season tickets to the nerd table in the lunchroom). I found him to be just as he describes Waxpacker Rick Sutcliffe: open, introspective, thoughtful.
As a baseball fan, I feel like I got more than I expected from this book. I liked reading about the players I remembered, but I also enjoyed Balukjian's own story because of the way he presented it in parallel to each baseball player's past and present. I wanted him to be successful in his personal life, and the book wouldn't have been as good if he had left his own struggles and thoughts out. His own candor enriched the quality of the story. He also had some fun at the expense of the few Waxpackers who refused to meet with him, and I found that refreshing as well.
Maybe the coolest thing about this book is that the reader doesn't have to be a baseball card collector to enjoy it. This is a book about relationships, disappointments, and perseverance. It is well-written and honest. I even got the sense that most of The Waxpackers enjoyed the author's visits as much as he did.
Nice work!
August 21, 2020
When on page 20 the author passed out drunk in a plant bed alongside a highway, I knew that this book would be just as much about his life as it would be the lives of the baseball players he would soon interview. And sure enough, his struggles and demons are an ongoing narrative, not parallel to but rather intersecting with the stories of many of his interviewees. At times these intersections enhance our connection with the players as they fade from the spotlight and walk once again among us everyday mortals, dealing with a variety of inner wounds while also coping with the ending of their baseball dreams. Yet, the author has an expectation that they will open up fully to him, and confront deep emotional trauma where it exists, and while he is very forthcoming about some of his own challenges, he never confronts his alcoholism. There’s a whiff of hypocrisy here that is hard to ignore. And then there are times where the author becomes his own worst enemy, especially when he goes to great lengths to “punk” Carlton Fisk after the legendary reclusive catcher spurns his advances, much like an obsessive man might angrily stalk a woman who turns down repeated requests for a date.
Yet for all these shortcomings, there are plenty of highlights. At its best, we see former players or their family members really open up about topics like abusive or absentee fathers, drugs, alcoholism, racism, and many other issues that are experienced by so many. We see how faith, family, friends, and therapy can be pillars of strength. Plus, we gain greater insight into the hidden cruelty that many ballplayers experience in the business of baseball, and how the end of the road is much more likely to feel like driving off a cliff into the abyss than it is arriving at a finish line cloaked in glory.
Yet for all these shortcomings, there are plenty of highlights. At its best, we see former players or their family members really open up about topics like abusive or absentee fathers, drugs, alcoholism, racism, and many other issues that are experienced by so many. We see how faith, family, friends, and therapy can be pillars of strength. Plus, we gain greater insight into the hidden cruelty that many ballplayers experience in the business of baseball, and how the end of the road is much more likely to feel like driving off a cliff into the abyss than it is arriving at a finish line cloaked in glory.
September 22, 2020
It's a unique take on baseball, peering at the game's past through the eyes of a lifelong fan as he tracks down the players in a wax pack of baseball cards.
He weaves his own story throughout, presumably to compare and contrast his own life with that of his heroes.
His humanity comes out in his battle with OCD, something I can definitely relate to. I found myself nodding along as he described his symptoms. I definitely appreciated that.
Particularly troubling, however, was the story of Randy Ready, whose wife had a heart attack, and because she was discovered later and was without oxygen for a time, she suffered traumatic injuries. The author seems to gloss over the fact that Ready just continued on with his baseball career and presumably left his wife. In fact, the author seemed to be sympathetic to his plight and not that of Ready's wife.
Overall, it was a great concept for a book, and an enjoyable read, despite some obvious flaws.
He weaves his own story throughout, presumably to compare and contrast his own life with that of his heroes.
His humanity comes out in his battle with OCD, something I can definitely relate to. I found myself nodding along as he described his symptoms. I definitely appreciated that.
Particularly troubling, however, was the story of Randy Ready, whose wife had a heart attack, and because she was discovered later and was without oxygen for a time, she suffered traumatic injuries. The author seems to gloss over the fact that Ready just continued on with his baseball career and presumably left his wife. In fact, the author seemed to be sympathetic to his plight and not that of Ready's wife.
Overall, it was a great concept for a book, and an enjoyable read, despite some obvious flaws.
May 22, 2020
Really wish we could give half ratings. This was a good 3.5 from me. I'd recommend to anyone that collects baseball cards or has collected cards or just likes baseball.
Listened on Audible and the author reads the book, which makes me wonder if I found myself judging him a bit harshly on things I might've glossed over if just reading it instead.
No matter, Brad Balukjian's non-fiction debut was entertaining, enlightening and provided a little escape back to the time when baseball players and sports heroes were magical and you never knew what awaited you with the next pack of baseball cards.
Listened on Audible and the author reads the book, which makes me wonder if I found myself judging him a bit harshly on things I might've glossed over if just reading it instead.
No matter, Brad Balukjian's non-fiction debut was entertaining, enlightening and provided a little escape back to the time when baseball players and sports heroes were magical and you never knew what awaited you with the next pack of baseball cards.
April 22, 2020
An outstanding baseball book, but it's much more than that. Balukjian hits a narrative non-fiction home run with his exploration of the lives of baseball players long after the spotlight. Even people who have no interest in baseball will find things to appreciate in this book about post-stardom life, fathers and sons and living through adversity.
January 15, 2021
I LOVED this book! Of course I love baseball and had a childhood/young adulthood prolific with baseball cards, games, uniforms, teams and dreams. Baseball literally saved my life, more than once, just by being there for me! This is a second GREAT baseball book I've read in just the last few reads. ( 10 books back Mark DiIonno's "Gods of Wood and Stone" )
Balukjian's book is a pack of baseball cards come to life. He's a genii...a Svengali .....a wizard who randomly buys a deck of cards from 1986 on E-Bay and then decides to visit the player enshrined on each of the 14 cards. Brad then writes his book as their collective biographies and updates about where their lives have led them AFTER baseball. He researched their lives and knew enough of their story to ask revealing and personal questions, some of which were not easily answered. He was also empathetic and sensitive to not go too far with his digging into their stories.
He takes a few months off, his recorder and Honda Accord and hops across the country and sets up interviews and meetings with all 14 of his 'targets', as best he can. Not all are cooperative, and 1 is has died, so he meets with that former player's brother and family. But most are welcoming and flattered to help his book project. What unfolds is interesting and wonderful, brief glimpses into the lives of these famous, popular baseball heroes.....all active in 1986. In a few cases he actually seems to almost help the retired players put perspective and insights into their lives and decisions.
We forget that these athletes are just people, often young kids fighting and scrambling to make their dreams become real. A few were superstars of the game. Most dealt with failures, big and small, and ended up dealing with the harsh realities of aging out of sports, being traded, sent to minor league teams, cut and often injured. And then there was dealing with fame, money, constant travel and the physical grind of their relentless schedules. Marriage and families become both blessings and anchors, more problems and situations to try to deal with and resolve. It's sad to see so many of these players suffered through divorces and multiple marriages and estrangement from children. Some were happy stories of family strength, but many were sad and heartbreaking. The majority came from troubled backgrounds which magnified in their own relationships.
15 cards and a stick of gum ( one card was a checklist ) that led a man to drive coast to coast and over 11,000 miles total to somehow reach 14 ex-baseball players. What a cool idea for a book. What a cool book!
Balukjian's book is a pack of baseball cards come to life. He's a genii...a Svengali .....a wizard who randomly buys a deck of cards from 1986 on E-Bay and then decides to visit the player enshrined on each of the 14 cards. Brad then writes his book as their collective biographies and updates about where their lives have led them AFTER baseball. He researched their lives and knew enough of their story to ask revealing and personal questions, some of which were not easily answered. He was also empathetic and sensitive to not go too far with his digging into their stories.
He takes a few months off, his recorder and Honda Accord and hops across the country and sets up interviews and meetings with all 14 of his 'targets', as best he can. Not all are cooperative, and 1 is has died, so he meets with that former player's brother and family. But most are welcoming and flattered to help his book project. What unfolds is interesting and wonderful, brief glimpses into the lives of these famous, popular baseball heroes.....all active in 1986. In a few cases he actually seems to almost help the retired players put perspective and insights into their lives and decisions.
We forget that these athletes are just people, often young kids fighting and scrambling to make their dreams become real. A few were superstars of the game. Most dealt with failures, big and small, and ended up dealing with the harsh realities of aging out of sports, being traded, sent to minor league teams, cut and often injured. And then there was dealing with fame, money, constant travel and the physical grind of their relentless schedules. Marriage and families become both blessings and anchors, more problems and situations to try to deal with and resolve. It's sad to see so many of these players suffered through divorces and multiple marriages and estrangement from children. Some were happy stories of family strength, but many were sad and heartbreaking. The majority came from troubled backgrounds which magnified in their own relationships.
15 cards and a stick of gum ( one card was a checklist ) that led a man to drive coast to coast and over 11,000 miles total to somehow reach 14 ex-baseball players. What a cool idea for a book. What a cool book!
July 1, 2020
A very entertaining read about a great idea. Author Brad Balukjian takes a pack of 1986 Topps baseball cards and then goes on a mission to find the players across the country. Some players are more interesting than others, but this book is a page-turner. Really wish the author could have gotten more on a few key players (I won't spoil it and say who) but in the end I think he did his best. This book is almost John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley but instead of traveling with a dog, he's traveling with the nostalgia of his youth and what it was like to open a pack of cards. I really like what he finds, especially on the non famous players. Good stuff and anyone who is around my age (40) will absolutely love this book as it will take you back to being a kid. The opening prologue chapter is gold.
February 6, 2021
The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball’s Afterlife
by
Brad Balukjian
3 Stars
I was disappointed in The Wax Pack. It wasn’t that the book was bad; it was enjoyable enough. It’s just that I expected something very different, and something that I think would have been considerably more. The concept grabbed me as soon as I saw the book for the first time: open an old pack of baseball cards and then track down the players pictured to find out what their lives after baseball have been like. Unfortunately, there was far too much of the author’s own story and far too little of the players’ stories for my taste. There really wasn’t anything about Brad Balukjian that I was particularly interested in, but I really wanted to know a lot more about the players he managed to meet.
by
Brad Balukjian
3 Stars
I was disappointed in The Wax Pack. It wasn’t that the book was bad; it was enjoyable enough. It’s just that I expected something very different, and something that I think would have been considerably more. The concept grabbed me as soon as I saw the book for the first time: open an old pack of baseball cards and then track down the players pictured to find out what their lives after baseball have been like. Unfortunately, there was far too much of the author’s own story and far too little of the players’ stories for my taste. There really wasn’t anything about Brad Balukjian that I was particularly interested in, but I really wanted to know a lot more about the players he managed to meet.
February 27, 2020
The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball’s Afterlife. By Brad Balukjian. Lincoln, NB: University of Nebraska Press, 2020. 280 pages.
The Wax Pack is a high-concept book for baseball fans. In 2015, Brad Balukjian, a natural history professor at Merritt College in Oakland, he bought a random unopened package of 1986 Topps baseball cards on eBay and spent his summer trying to track down the 14* players lying underneath the bubblegum. In 49 days, Balukjian put 11,341 miles on his 2002 Honda and fueled himself with 123 cups of coffee.
Balukjian chose 1986 because it evoked fond childhood memories of enjoying baseball with his father. Twenty-nine years later, the 34-year-old Balukjian was single, renting a room in Oakland, and in therapy for OCD and emotional issues. His coast-to-coast-to coast baseball journey took on a second life of sorting out his own life. His Topps pack included–in the order Balukjian discusses them–Rance Mulliniks, Steve Yeager, Gary Templeton, Gary Pettis, Randy Ready, Don Carman, Jamie Cocanower, Carlton Fisk, Vince Coleman, Lee Mazzilli, Doc Gooden, Richie Hebner, Rick Sutcliffe, and Al Cowens.
Balukjian bookends his sojourn with stories gathered in Duryea, Pennsylvania, where Topps cranked out 170 packs of cards per minute before closing the plant in 1996. Mary Lou Gula missed the steady employment and comradery at Topps, though it was hot, hard work. It’s not easy starting over when you’ve doing something for a long time. Balukjian wanted to learn if that was also true for the faces on the cards.
Getting to the major league usually entails devoting one’s youth to endless hours of playing, practicing, and attending coaching clinics. Those who become prospects spend around four years in the minor leagues, and just one in 33 will make it to the majors. Even then, the average career is less than 6 years; most players retire in their 30s. What one does for the next 30-plus years? What kind of person does one become once the cheering ends?
One revelation is that there is generally a reverse correlation between being a great player and a good human being. Jaime Cocanower, for example, grew up in Panama and lasted just three years in the majors. He now lives in Arizona with his wife, a teacher who works with Asperger kids. Cocanower experienced few problems with walking away.
Professional baseball is notoriously hard on marriages–especially for players from dysfunctional birth families. “Boomer” Yeager was tightlipped about his unhappy childhood, but you don’t need a degree in psychology to imagine how it contributed to two collapsed marriages and struggles with alcohol abuse. Rance Mulliniks also divorced before he finally found peace in not being the center of attention. Most of the players in Balukjian’s wax pack divorced at least once.
Cocanower is an outlier in severing ties to baseball. Rick Sutcliffe had an afterlife in broadcasting, Yeager as a coach for the Dodgers, Gary Pettis with the Astros, Richie Hebner with the Blue Jays, and Lee Mazzilli with both the Mets and Yankees. Balukjian’s boyhood idol, Phillies pitcher Don Carman, became a sports psychologist who works for superagent Scott Boras.
Wax packers Carlton Fisk and Doc Gooden milked their fame while showing little respect for the fans who idolized them. Balukjian observes that Fisk, “never won any nice guy awards.” He comes across as a prima donna and world-class jerk. His agent claims Fisk is a private man, which begs questions of why someone wishing anonymity needs an agent, or why he agrees to act chummy with anyone who pays for an autograph.
The most direct way of describing Gooden is that he is simply bad news. Through his son, he extorted hundreds of dollars from Balukjian for an interview he never intended to give. Gooden is a junkie who has been arrested for everything from DUI and domestic abuse to child endangerment and cocaine possession.
The wild card in the wax pack is Balukjian’s attempt to connect with other black players. Gary Templeton was extremely open about being the “black kid” who refused to “kiss white butt." He accused his former manager Whitey Herzog of living down to his name, and cited racism to explain why the percentage of black major leaguers has fallen from 18 percent in 1976 to just 7.2 percent. Balukjian positions Templeton as a complex and misunderstood man whose pride was never broken.
On the other hand, neither Pettis nor Vice Coleman would speak to Balukjian, moments that provide space for Balukjian to discuss his own demons or speculate about non-present subjects. Often, these breaks are book-within-a-book digressions that weaken the book’s coherence. Plus, should someone in therapy try to psychoanalyze others? Vince Coleman’s run-ins with the law are fair game, but few fans would agree with Balukjian’s assessment that Coleman was “a pretty mediocre player” whose sole attraction was base-stealing. Coleman played for 12 years and was a career .264 hitter. That’s solid, even if not earth-shattering.
The book is much stronger when Balukjian immerses himself in the hometowns of the players. Al Cowens died in 2002, and Balukjian visited Compton and elicited remembrances from community and family members. Especially moving was Balukjian’s trip to Carman’s boyhood home of Camargo, Oklahoma, a dead oil-patch outpost now defined by crystal meth and low aspirations. Carman left it behind, a reminder that professional sports are often a one-way escape from nowhere. Metaphorically speaking, that’s a much longer journey than 49 days crisscrossing America.
Rob Weir
* Normally there are 15 player cards, but one card was a checklist.
The Wax Pack is a high-concept book for baseball fans. In 2015, Brad Balukjian, a natural history professor at Merritt College in Oakland, he bought a random unopened package of 1986 Topps baseball cards on eBay and spent his summer trying to track down the 14* players lying underneath the bubblegum. In 49 days, Balukjian put 11,341 miles on his 2002 Honda and fueled himself with 123 cups of coffee.
Balukjian chose 1986 because it evoked fond childhood memories of enjoying baseball with his father. Twenty-nine years later, the 34-year-old Balukjian was single, renting a room in Oakland, and in therapy for OCD and emotional issues. His coast-to-coast-to coast baseball journey took on a second life of sorting out his own life. His Topps pack included–in the order Balukjian discusses them–Rance Mulliniks, Steve Yeager, Gary Templeton, Gary Pettis, Randy Ready, Don Carman, Jamie Cocanower, Carlton Fisk, Vince Coleman, Lee Mazzilli, Doc Gooden, Richie Hebner, Rick Sutcliffe, and Al Cowens.
Balukjian bookends his sojourn with stories gathered in Duryea, Pennsylvania, where Topps cranked out 170 packs of cards per minute before closing the plant in 1996. Mary Lou Gula missed the steady employment and comradery at Topps, though it was hot, hard work. It’s not easy starting over when you’ve doing something for a long time. Balukjian wanted to learn if that was also true for the faces on the cards.
Getting to the major league usually entails devoting one’s youth to endless hours of playing, practicing, and attending coaching clinics. Those who become prospects spend around four years in the minor leagues, and just one in 33 will make it to the majors. Even then, the average career is less than 6 years; most players retire in their 30s. What one does for the next 30-plus years? What kind of person does one become once the cheering ends?
One revelation is that there is generally a reverse correlation between being a great player and a good human being. Jaime Cocanower, for example, grew up in Panama and lasted just three years in the majors. He now lives in Arizona with his wife, a teacher who works with Asperger kids. Cocanower experienced few problems with walking away.
Professional baseball is notoriously hard on marriages–especially for players from dysfunctional birth families. “Boomer” Yeager was tightlipped about his unhappy childhood, but you don’t need a degree in psychology to imagine how it contributed to two collapsed marriages and struggles with alcohol abuse. Rance Mulliniks also divorced before he finally found peace in not being the center of attention. Most of the players in Balukjian’s wax pack divorced at least once.
Cocanower is an outlier in severing ties to baseball. Rick Sutcliffe had an afterlife in broadcasting, Yeager as a coach for the Dodgers, Gary Pettis with the Astros, Richie Hebner with the Blue Jays, and Lee Mazzilli with both the Mets and Yankees. Balukjian’s boyhood idol, Phillies pitcher Don Carman, became a sports psychologist who works for superagent Scott Boras.
Wax packers Carlton Fisk and Doc Gooden milked their fame while showing little respect for the fans who idolized them. Balukjian observes that Fisk, “never won any nice guy awards.” He comes across as a prima donna and world-class jerk. His agent claims Fisk is a private man, which begs questions of why someone wishing anonymity needs an agent, or why he agrees to act chummy with anyone who pays for an autograph.
The most direct way of describing Gooden is that he is simply bad news. Through his son, he extorted hundreds of dollars from Balukjian for an interview he never intended to give. Gooden is a junkie who has been arrested for everything from DUI and domestic abuse to child endangerment and cocaine possession.
The wild card in the wax pack is Balukjian’s attempt to connect with other black players. Gary Templeton was extremely open about being the “black kid” who refused to “kiss white butt." He accused his former manager Whitey Herzog of living down to his name, and cited racism to explain why the percentage of black major leaguers has fallen from 18 percent in 1976 to just 7.2 percent. Balukjian positions Templeton as a complex and misunderstood man whose pride was never broken.
On the other hand, neither Pettis nor Vice Coleman would speak to Balukjian, moments that provide space for Balukjian to discuss his own demons or speculate about non-present subjects. Often, these breaks are book-within-a-book digressions that weaken the book’s coherence. Plus, should someone in therapy try to psychoanalyze others? Vince Coleman’s run-ins with the law are fair game, but few fans would agree with Balukjian’s assessment that Coleman was “a pretty mediocre player” whose sole attraction was base-stealing. Coleman played for 12 years and was a career .264 hitter. That’s solid, even if not earth-shattering.
The book is much stronger when Balukjian immerses himself in the hometowns of the players. Al Cowens died in 2002, and Balukjian visited Compton and elicited remembrances from community and family members. Especially moving was Balukjian’s trip to Carman’s boyhood home of Camargo, Oklahoma, a dead oil-patch outpost now defined by crystal meth and low aspirations. Carman left it behind, a reminder that professional sports are often a one-way escape from nowhere. Metaphorically speaking, that’s a much longer journey than 49 days crisscrossing America.
Rob Weir
* Normally there are 15 player cards, but one card was a checklist.
February 11, 2025
I gave it 4 stars because of the nostalgia of both the 1986 topps cards and the era during which I was introduced to baseball. The author is annoying and did his best to ruin the story. He is a caricature. Great premise....not a home run.
August 21, 2020
The strength of Brad Balukjian's book is also its weakness: It is many things at the same time. The premise is simple enough. After purchasing an unopened package of baseball cards from 1986, the year he had collected cards as an obsessed pre-teen, he vows to track down and interview each player to find out what happened to each one in the last 39 years. The narrative functions on several layers. It could be an examination of the afterlife of baseball players, using these stories to comment on how hard it can be to transition from baseball to life outside the game. But it is only partly that. It could be a baseball book, putting each player in his historical context and telling the story of 1986. But it does not do that. He does talk baseball but only about each player. Above all it is a personal narrative and Balukjian does not pretend to have objectivity. These are his heroes. But this is not like Josh Wilker's book, Cardboard Gods, which is only a personal narrative with some baseball thrown in. It is partly about what the author learned and partly these other things. The book may have been stronger if it had been one thing, a baseball book, a sociological study or a personal narrative. But as all three it is very enjoyable. Most journeys are many things at the same time and life rarely falls into neat categories.
February 25, 2021
I enjoyed every chapter. I collected baseball cards growing up, and still have a few saved somewhere. But I never gave thought as to what the players are doing today! So, Brad Balukjian has done the work to find out. I appreciate that he strove to go beyond the obvious questions and gain an understanding of the player growing up including their family situations. This makes the chapters far more than baseball. In fact, the chapters do not have a lot of baseball stories. It’s the before and the after.
Brad also opens up on himself deeply and honestly. It’s intermingled throughout. A theme with many of the players is their father relationship. Brad shares this of himself, and his father joins him for one chapter. It’s very moving.
Overall, this is a well researched and written book. It’s honest and interesting, and I did enjoy it for every chapter.
Brad also opens up on himself deeply and honestly. It’s intermingled throughout. A theme with many of the players is their father relationship. Brad shares this of himself, and his father joins him for one chapter. It’s very moving.
Overall, this is a well researched and written book. It’s honest and interesting, and I did enjoy it for every chapter.
May 17, 2020
I’m generally a methodical reader, but this book was so engaging that I read it in one day. For those of you like me who were raised on baseball in the 1980s and had (and still have) loads of cards, you will be highly entertained. But, this book is about much more than baseball or cards...the players are humanized by their life stories and the way their experiences parallel that of the author. The author does a fantastic job of taking on and off the field events and asking pointed questions to the players, their family and friends about how those events impacted the subject. And those players who were unavailable or chose not to cooperate still receive in depth review. Baseball fans will enjoy this...but so will those interested in oral history and psychology.
March 23, 2022
I liked this book and would recommend it. As I read some of the reviews, many readers had an issue with Brad’s role in the story but I think that was a central and important part of the book. It’s what made it work and connected this random group of ex ball players to the reader. I read a baseball related book every spring training season since I was in middle school (I’m old, so I’ve read a lot of baseball books) and the premise of this one seemed a little goofy to me, but was motivated by a Sports Illustrated review and took chance on it. I’m glad I read it and I’m happy to learn that Lee Mazzilli appears to be the good guy I had hoped he was when he was my favorite player on some bad Mets teams.
January 5, 2023
A must read for baseball enthusiasts. In this book Brad travels across the country to meet the all the (living) baseball players in one pack of 1986 baseball cards. We hear some interesting tidbits about players lives beyond the diamond and their upbringings. I throughly enjoyed reading about baseball in the 80’s. As someone who has only watched baseball since the 2000’s I always wish I would’ve had the opportunity to watch some of the games greats while they were in their prime. It was fun to experience the nostalgia through Brads eyes. You will fall in love with some players and hate others. I loved Brad’s authenticity and love for the game.
4.5 rounded up.
4.5 rounded up.
March 27, 2021
As a baseball fan and roughly the same age as the author, I was enthralled by this book. Take a pack of 1986 Topps baseball cards (the first year I remember my dad ever buying me a wax pack), and track down the whereabouts of the players by taking a cross-country tour 30-some years later. This book is much more about the careers and post-life of a bunch of ball players, it’s also about the author’s self-reflection as a fan, and a person. Every story had my rapt attention. I loved all fifteen of them...even if Carlton Fisk is a jerk!
February 11, 2021
"Fishing isn't about catching fish. Baseball isn't about hitting home runs."
It's not often that I come across a book premise that causes me to think, "this sounds like a book I could and would write if I had to write a nonfiction book." As a sucker for baseball cards, esoteric baseball minutia and travel writing, I cannot imagine that Balukjian appealed to many readers more pointedly than myself. As such, I started reading The Wax Pack with all the giddiness of attending a baseball game with your team's ace on the mound, facing a bottom dweller opponent trotting out a sad sack AAAA lineup. Unfortunately, that ace pitcher must have gotten scratched at the last second, because Balukjian was more of a spot starter, laboring through 5 innings with 7 walks, 3 wild pitches and a couple balks. Ultimately, still a winning effort, but not exactly what I was expecting.
There was a lot that I appreciated. Balukjian is refreshingly vulnerable, and I related deeply to many of his quirks -- being drawn to the utility players and oddballs more than the superstars, keeping score at games and OCD tendencies, having others repeatedly comment on his youthful appearance. There's not as much waxing poetic about the simple childhood joy of baseball cards as one might expect (especially given the fantastic cover), but I guess the great lengths that Balukjian goes in pursuing his cardboard heroes speaks for itself. I liked that extensive research was done beforehand, so as to avoid simply repeating the most obvious stories that have already been told. And last but not least, I appreciated the theme of fatherhood that Balukjian unexpectedly pulled out of his experience, as it's one that every male can relate to in one way or another.
No other sport has the kind of down time that baseball has, the pauses that lead its detractors to call it boring but that are actually its greatest strength, providing the time needed to build relationships with the people around you.
As much as certain parts of the book had me nodding along with a grin, other parts left me shaking my head or even cringing. The book structure inherently suffers from the fact that the players have little in common with each other, besides all having played in the majors in 1986. One chapter, Balukjian has an incredible experience meeting his childhood hero, the next, a player refuses to even meet him. It's the equivalent of the pitcher tossing a near immaculate inning in the 4th, and then walking the bases loaded in the 5th. Balukjian tries his best by noting the thread of fatherhood, but in the end there's no obvious red thread that a book about, say, a group of players from the same team, would naturally contain. Frustratingly inconsistent, even if not totally the author's fault. More inexplicable is the author's choice to weave his personal life into the narrative, interjecting a brief reunion with an ex, and making readers everywhere grimace by bringing us along on his random Tinder dates. I suppose these throw-ins were an attempt to continue his overall transparency and vulnerability, but there was no worthwhile payoff at the end for these personal anecdotes which somehow managed to be both self-deprecating and self-aggrandizing at the same time.
I debated giving this book 4 stars, and maybe it's ultimately a 3.5... but one grating running joke was the ultimate tiebreaker to round down. Balukjian evidently thinks it's comical to repeatedly rag on the city of San Diego, with his opinion that it lacks charm. Yes, I'm biased, as a San Diego resident. The problem though, is that it seems Balukjian bases this opinion of San Diego from having visited... San Marcos. The equivalent is someone visiting Gilroy and subsequently dismissing the Bay Area as "boring farmland." Are there parts of San Diego that are charmless? Sure. Just like there are parts of the Bay Area that are boring farmland. But to paint broad strokes when the very opposite is true about the same city annoyed me greatly. If you're only going to lean heavily on one or two recurring running jokes in your book, it's best not to choose one that is so off-base.
All of that being said, I appreciate that this book was written, and that a baseball fan so similar to myself got to write it. In an odd way, the finished product is a better representation and true reflection of Balukjian's fascination for the journeyman compared to some stunningly polished masterpiece.
It's not often that I come across a book premise that causes me to think, "this sounds like a book I could and would write if I had to write a nonfiction book." As a sucker for baseball cards, esoteric baseball minutia and travel writing, I cannot imagine that Balukjian appealed to many readers more pointedly than myself. As such, I started reading The Wax Pack with all the giddiness of attending a baseball game with your team's ace on the mound, facing a bottom dweller opponent trotting out a sad sack AAAA lineup. Unfortunately, that ace pitcher must have gotten scratched at the last second, because Balukjian was more of a spot starter, laboring through 5 innings with 7 walks, 3 wild pitches and a couple balks. Ultimately, still a winning effort, but not exactly what I was expecting.
There was a lot that I appreciated. Balukjian is refreshingly vulnerable, and I related deeply to many of his quirks -- being drawn to the utility players and oddballs more than the superstars, keeping score at games and OCD tendencies, having others repeatedly comment on his youthful appearance. There's not as much waxing poetic about the simple childhood joy of baseball cards as one might expect (especially given the fantastic cover), but I guess the great lengths that Balukjian goes in pursuing his cardboard heroes speaks for itself. I liked that extensive research was done beforehand, so as to avoid simply repeating the most obvious stories that have already been told. And last but not least, I appreciated the theme of fatherhood that Balukjian unexpectedly pulled out of his experience, as it's one that every male can relate to in one way or another.
No other sport has the kind of down time that baseball has, the pauses that lead its detractors to call it boring but that are actually its greatest strength, providing the time needed to build relationships with the people around you.
As much as certain parts of the book had me nodding along with a grin, other parts left me shaking my head or even cringing. The book structure inherently suffers from the fact that the players have little in common with each other, besides all having played in the majors in 1986. One chapter, Balukjian has an incredible experience meeting his childhood hero, the next, a player refuses to even meet him. It's the equivalent of the pitcher tossing a near immaculate inning in the 4th, and then walking the bases loaded in the 5th. Balukjian tries his best by noting the thread of fatherhood, but in the end there's no obvious red thread that a book about, say, a group of players from the same team, would naturally contain. Frustratingly inconsistent, even if not totally the author's fault. More inexplicable is the author's choice to weave his personal life into the narrative, interjecting a brief reunion with an ex, and making readers everywhere grimace by bringing us along on his random Tinder dates. I suppose these throw-ins were an attempt to continue his overall transparency and vulnerability, but there was no worthwhile payoff at the end for these personal anecdotes which somehow managed to be both self-deprecating and self-aggrandizing at the same time.
I debated giving this book 4 stars, and maybe it's ultimately a 3.5... but one grating running joke was the ultimate tiebreaker to round down. Balukjian evidently thinks it's comical to repeatedly rag on the city of San Diego, with his opinion that it lacks charm. Yes, I'm biased, as a San Diego resident. The problem though, is that it seems Balukjian bases this opinion of San Diego from having visited... San Marcos. The equivalent is someone visiting Gilroy and subsequently dismissing the Bay Area as "boring farmland." Are there parts of San Diego that are charmless? Sure. Just like there are parts of the Bay Area that are boring farmland. But to paint broad strokes when the very opposite is true about the same city annoyed me greatly. If you're only going to lean heavily on one or two recurring running jokes in your book, it's best not to choose one that is so off-base.
All of that being said, I appreciate that this book was written, and that a baseball fan so similar to myself got to write it. In an odd way, the finished product is a better representation and true reflection of Balukjian's fascination for the journeyman compared to some stunningly polished masterpiece.
March 31, 2020
https://www.themaineedge.com/sports/f...
When I first heard about “The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball's Afterlife” by Brad Balukjian, my reaction was pure and basic: “God, that’s a f---ing good idea.”
Even after a decade-plus of literary reviews, I can count on one hand the times that I was legitimately envious of the idea behind a book. Not necessarily the best books or the most interesting books, but the ones with an underlying premise that spoke directly to me.
“The Wax Pack” is one of those.
Balukjian, a lifelong baseball fan, undertook a simple, yet deeply fascinating adventure. He bought a pack of Topps baseball cards from 1986, the year he got into collecting. He popped the decades-old gum into his mouth and flipped through the 15 cards, regaling himself with ghosts of seasons past. And then, he packed up his life and embarked on an epic road trip, a cross-country voyage in which he hoped to make contact with the players he found when he peeled the paper from the titular wax pack.
The result is something unexpected, a thoughtful exploration of fandom that also serves as a glimpse of the different directions a faded athlete might go. And in the process of delving into this sports-loving memory hole, Balukjian himself becomes more present, undertaking an effort to look back at his own history.
The names on the list run the gamut. There’s a Hall of Famer (catcher Carlton Fisk) and a handful of notable names (Dwight Gooden, Vince Coleman, Garry Templeton, Rick Sutcliffe), but for the most part, it’s a collection of … guys. Men who were good enough to make the major leagues, but who perhaps weren’t destined to be among the legends of the game. It’s a chance to check in on the post-playing careers of people who bade farewell to the only job they ever wanted, a chance to think about who they were then … and who they are now.
It is a chance, as former Deadspin editor David Roth would say, to Remember Some Guys.
The cards in the pack are as follows: Rance Mulliniks, Steve Yeager, Garry Templeton, Gary Pettis, Randy Ready, Jaime Cocanower, Carlton Fisk, Don Carman, Vince Coleman, Dwight Gooden, Lee Mazzilli, Richie Hebner, Rick Sutcliffe and the late Al Cowens (the fifteenth card was one of the dreaded checklist cards that no one ever wanted and that inevitably appeared in just about every pack you bought).
As you might imagine, my envy regarding this idea raised my expectations; I wanted this wonderful idea to come to fruition. Happily, Balukjian doesn’t disappoint, presenting this blend of baseball and personal history with charm and humor, all of it infused with a love of the game and more than a little well-placed self-deprecation.
Over the course of his weeks-long journey, Balukjian drives across the country, trying to make contact with as many of these players as possible. Some of these efforts were more fruitful than others, leading to experiences bordering on the surreal – hanging out with Yeager at the sandwich shop he owns, getting a hitting lesson from Mulliniks and (my personal favorite) watching kung-fu movies with Templeton. He even got a chance to talk to his childhood hero, pitcher Don Carman – and they went to the zoo, because of course they did.
Other encounters never happened, due to scheduling or other difficulties – Coleman never happened, for instance. Nor did Gooden. Meanwhile, the meet-up with Fisk – such as it was – ultimately took place in an autograph line at Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame Induction Weekend.
But the majority of these men were generous with their time, even as they were varying shades of nonplussed by the whole thing. They were thoughtful with their answers, expressing a degree of honesty regarding their lives both inside the game and in its aftermath. Some stayed connected to baseball, while others moved in different directions, but all spoke with warmth about their time in uniform.
(Note: Balukjian even spent some time with a couple of the folks who worked in the Topps factory during the time when the ’86 packs would have made its way down the line. Specifically, there was one worker who almost certainly handled the very pack that would become the foundation of this book.)
“The Wax Pack” is “On the Road,” only with a lot more baseball and a lot less self-seriousness. It is a story that is two trips in one – a present day road trip, a trip down memory lane – with baseball at its center. In a way, it’s a meditation on time and how we mark its passage, as well as a consideration of why we choose those specific markers.
For what it’s worth, my personal baseball card journey began just a year later than Balukjian’s – I started with the 1987 Topps, with the classic wood grain border. Those early entries led to a several-year stretch where I was obsessed with the hobby before moving on to other interests (though my love of the game stayed strong and remains so to this day). Still, the fascination with cards never fully faded. I even bought a box online a year or so back to take that walk down memory lane myself. And before you ask, the answer is yes – I ate the gum. It was gross.
So yes – I think this is a brilliant idea for a book. And with “The Wax Pack,” Brad Balukijian has realized that idea beautifully. Anyone who has ever had a love affair with baseball cards – or just baseball in general – is going to be simply enraptured by this book, transported to that time when there was no thrill greater than feeling that wax crinkle as a pack was unwrapped, the stack of cardboard within rife with seemingly infinite possibility.
When I first heard about “The Wax Pack: On the Open Road in Search of Baseball's Afterlife” by Brad Balukjian, my reaction was pure and basic: “God, that’s a f---ing good idea.”
Even after a decade-plus of literary reviews, I can count on one hand the times that I was legitimately envious of the idea behind a book. Not necessarily the best books or the most interesting books, but the ones with an underlying premise that spoke directly to me.
“The Wax Pack” is one of those.
Balukjian, a lifelong baseball fan, undertook a simple, yet deeply fascinating adventure. He bought a pack of Topps baseball cards from 1986, the year he got into collecting. He popped the decades-old gum into his mouth and flipped through the 15 cards, regaling himself with ghosts of seasons past. And then, he packed up his life and embarked on an epic road trip, a cross-country voyage in which he hoped to make contact with the players he found when he peeled the paper from the titular wax pack.
The result is something unexpected, a thoughtful exploration of fandom that also serves as a glimpse of the different directions a faded athlete might go. And in the process of delving into this sports-loving memory hole, Balukjian himself becomes more present, undertaking an effort to look back at his own history.
The names on the list run the gamut. There’s a Hall of Famer (catcher Carlton Fisk) and a handful of notable names (Dwight Gooden, Vince Coleman, Garry Templeton, Rick Sutcliffe), but for the most part, it’s a collection of … guys. Men who were good enough to make the major leagues, but who perhaps weren’t destined to be among the legends of the game. It’s a chance to check in on the post-playing careers of people who bade farewell to the only job they ever wanted, a chance to think about who they were then … and who they are now.
It is a chance, as former Deadspin editor David Roth would say, to Remember Some Guys.
The cards in the pack are as follows: Rance Mulliniks, Steve Yeager, Garry Templeton, Gary Pettis, Randy Ready, Jaime Cocanower, Carlton Fisk, Don Carman, Vince Coleman, Dwight Gooden, Lee Mazzilli, Richie Hebner, Rick Sutcliffe and the late Al Cowens (the fifteenth card was one of the dreaded checklist cards that no one ever wanted and that inevitably appeared in just about every pack you bought).
As you might imagine, my envy regarding this idea raised my expectations; I wanted this wonderful idea to come to fruition. Happily, Balukjian doesn’t disappoint, presenting this blend of baseball and personal history with charm and humor, all of it infused with a love of the game and more than a little well-placed self-deprecation.
Over the course of his weeks-long journey, Balukjian drives across the country, trying to make contact with as many of these players as possible. Some of these efforts were more fruitful than others, leading to experiences bordering on the surreal – hanging out with Yeager at the sandwich shop he owns, getting a hitting lesson from Mulliniks and (my personal favorite) watching kung-fu movies with Templeton. He even got a chance to talk to his childhood hero, pitcher Don Carman – and they went to the zoo, because of course they did.
Other encounters never happened, due to scheduling or other difficulties – Coleman never happened, for instance. Nor did Gooden. Meanwhile, the meet-up with Fisk – such as it was – ultimately took place in an autograph line at Cooperstown’s Hall of Fame Induction Weekend.
But the majority of these men were generous with their time, even as they were varying shades of nonplussed by the whole thing. They were thoughtful with their answers, expressing a degree of honesty regarding their lives both inside the game and in its aftermath. Some stayed connected to baseball, while others moved in different directions, but all spoke with warmth about their time in uniform.
(Note: Balukjian even spent some time with a couple of the folks who worked in the Topps factory during the time when the ’86 packs would have made its way down the line. Specifically, there was one worker who almost certainly handled the very pack that would become the foundation of this book.)
“The Wax Pack” is “On the Road,” only with a lot more baseball and a lot less self-seriousness. It is a story that is two trips in one – a present day road trip, a trip down memory lane – with baseball at its center. In a way, it’s a meditation on time and how we mark its passage, as well as a consideration of why we choose those specific markers.
For what it’s worth, my personal baseball card journey began just a year later than Balukjian’s – I started with the 1987 Topps, with the classic wood grain border. Those early entries led to a several-year stretch where I was obsessed with the hobby before moving on to other interests (though my love of the game stayed strong and remains so to this day). Still, the fascination with cards never fully faded. I even bought a box online a year or so back to take that walk down memory lane myself. And before you ask, the answer is yes – I ate the gum. It was gross.
So yes – I think this is a brilliant idea for a book. And with “The Wax Pack,” Brad Balukijian has realized that idea beautifully. Anyone who has ever had a love affair with baseball cards – or just baseball in general – is going to be simply enraptured by this book, transported to that time when there was no thrill greater than feeling that wax crinkle as a pack was unwrapped, the stack of cardboard within rife with seemingly infinite possibility.
June 28, 2023
I have a few thoughts about this book.
I want to start by saying this might be one of the greatest ideas for a sports book that I have come across. The concept is truly original and brilliant and I give the author nothing but props for not only thinking of this but following through with it without a book deal or any guarantee of success.
I thought the execution was poor. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but it’s just the truth. It may not have been entirely his fault, but I think Balukjian was hit with the harsh reality of most old-time ball players: the less recognizable guys frankly aren’t that interesting, and the superstars are assholes. He didn’t successfully track down either of the two most well-known players in the pack, and I’d say a vast majority of those he did speak with just weren’t that interesting.
Now for my biggest complaint: this book sometimes felt like it was more about the author himself than the baseball players he interviewed. I’ll give him credit — it’s his book, and he can write it about his own life if he chooses to, but I ended up skimming a good amount of the personal stories he included.
To be honest, he was extremely unlikable. He’s in his mid-30s, and goes into detail about blacking out at bars, cheating on his longtime girlfriend, and trying to seduce random girls on Tinder during his road trip. At one point he tells a random girl over a decade younger than him at a bar to break up with her boyfriend, but “he’s biased because he’s attracted to her.” He also got really mad and petty towards Carlton Fisk for not wanting to talk to him after he basically tried to sneak around and stalk him and that was weird.
There were some bright spots. I enjoyed a couple of the players’ stories and there were the natural benefits from this being such a good idea. The author reconnecting with his dad through this journey was the lone aspect of the personal writings that I enjoyed. It wasn’t awful overall, I just wish some things were different, and I was a bit disappointed.
I want to start by saying this might be one of the greatest ideas for a sports book that I have come across. The concept is truly original and brilliant and I give the author nothing but props for not only thinking of this but following through with it without a book deal or any guarantee of success.
I thought the execution was poor. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but it’s just the truth. It may not have been entirely his fault, but I think Balukjian was hit with the harsh reality of most old-time ball players: the less recognizable guys frankly aren’t that interesting, and the superstars are assholes. He didn’t successfully track down either of the two most well-known players in the pack, and I’d say a vast majority of those he did speak with just weren’t that interesting.
Now for my biggest complaint: this book sometimes felt like it was more about the author himself than the baseball players he interviewed. I’ll give him credit — it’s his book, and he can write it about his own life if he chooses to, but I ended up skimming a good amount of the personal stories he included.
To be honest, he was extremely unlikable. He’s in his mid-30s, and goes into detail about blacking out at bars, cheating on his longtime girlfriend, and trying to seduce random girls on Tinder during his road trip. At one point he tells a random girl over a decade younger than him at a bar to break up with her boyfriend, but “he’s biased because he’s attracted to her.” He also got really mad and petty towards Carlton Fisk for not wanting to talk to him after he basically tried to sneak around and stalk him and that was weird.
There were some bright spots. I enjoyed a couple of the players’ stories and there were the natural benefits from this being such a good idea. The author reconnecting with his dad through this journey was the lone aspect of the personal writings that I enjoyed. It wasn’t awful overall, I just wish some things were different, and I was a bit disappointed.
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