For a book that offers to get readers inside "one of the most secretive sports societies in America," very little is revealed here. Feinstein is, after all, relying on the Ravens' goodwill to get him behind the scenes and he repays that by soft-peddling almost everything from Jamal Lewis' drug conviction ("a mistake by a young man") through team dissension. Brian Billick comes across as a really nice guy despite little background scenarios that suggest he spends a fair bit of his time screaming at people like a complete asshole, pretty much on the grounds that hey, it's footbaw.
I think there was one sidelong mention of the word concussion, even though 2004 the league was already in public denial mode that repeated head trauma could cause brain damage. You would kind of hope that an ace reporter with insider access might have gotten a whiff of it being a problem.
And while Feinstein spends a great deal of time discussing who was whom on the NFL / NCAA coaching carousel, he somehow never manages to discuss how it's the white guys who keep getting hired and rehired as coordinators and head coaches ahead of the black guys who make up much of the league's playing talent ... even though the so-called Rooney Rule mandating teams at least interview a black guy before hiring a white one was only a year old at the time.
Being super-nice of course gives Feinstein the inside track the next time he wants to get behind the scenes of whatever sport he's covering. But it's hard not to think the NFL would be mighty pleased with how squeaky clean this supposed insider's look leaves "The Shield," as the league's logo is sometimes called.
Feinstein is a good writer, so it's not a bad book. But there's a standard formula -- start an anecdote, pause in the middle for a short biography of one of the main figures in the anecdote, then return to wrap up the story -- and he follows it so rigorously that it might as well be a beginner learning to waltz with a box step: One, two, three, one, two, three, and always covering the same square of dance floor. And let's face it, there's not a lot of deep background in most players' stories: They showed much / little natural talent as a boy, so it was expected / a surprise when they developed into a high school star; they were heavily recruited and signed with NCAA football factory A before being a top draft pick / they went under the radar at small school B and had to work their way up through the reserve squad route to make the NFL. They quickly become an exercise in name-dropping and da-yum does this book drop a lot of names.
By less than halfway through the book I was skipping over the bios out of raw boredom. I sort of wish I had skipped the whole thing.