The Captain: A Memoir

Product Description

A memoir from one of the most admired players in baseball, the captain of the New York Mets, David Wright
 
David Wright played his entire Major League Baseball career for one team, the team he dreamed of playing for as a kid: the New York Mets.
 
A quick fan favorite from Virginia who then earned his stripes in New York, Wright came back time and again from injury and demonstrated the power of hard work, total commitment, and an infinite love of the game.  
 
Wright’s stats are one thing. He was a seven-time All-Star, a two-time Gold Glove Award winner, and a two-time Silver Slugger Award winner. He holds many Mets franchise records and was nicknamed “Captain America” after his performance in the 2013 World Baseball Classic. But there is more: The walk-offs. The Barehand. The Subway Series and World Series home runs. And the electricity that swept through Shea Stadium then Citi Field whenever number 5, “the Captain,” was in the game.

Review

Praise for The Captain:

“Wright’s fascinating career comes to life in this wonderfully written and insightful sports memoir.”—
Library Journal (starred review)“Wright takes this occasion to pull back the curtain a little more, and just like during his playing days, he’s someone that people will never get enough of.”—
Newsday“The Captain is a must-read for Mets fans.
”—NY Sports Day / Queens Chronicle“When it comes to the ‘Good Guy Hall of Fame,’ Wright is a shoo-in.
”
—Bookreporter.com

About the Author

David Wright is a seven-time All-Star third baseman who played fourteen seasons in the major leagues and was voted the “Face of MLB.” He retired as the Mets’ fourth captain and the franchise leader in hits, runs, and RBIs. He is a special advisor in the Mets’ front office.

Anthony DiComo is the Mets beat writer for MLB.com and a former chairman of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America’s New York chapter. He also is an analyst for the SNY channel and a regular contributor to MLB Network.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

one
 
The Pudgy Kid at Shortstop
 
To this day, my father isn’t sure quite what possessed him. Shortly after I was born, once the initial bursts of elation and exhaustion and emotion had faded, my dad, Rhon, had a chance to steal away from the hospital for a few hours. Intending to drive straight home for a bit of rest, he instead found himself pulling into the parking lot of a local department store. This was a few days before Christmas, and as he puts it, the shelves were mostly bare-but there was my dad, rummaging around them long enough to find a plastic glove, a kid-sized Louisville Slugger, and a cheap baseball.
 
Rhon Wright was never much of an athlete, too short for basketball and too small for football, but he did play baseball and enjoyed the game. He wanted to instill that same love in me.
 
In the weeks that followed, my grandmother constructed a wooden plaque with prongs sticking out of it to hold the bat, as well as spots to store the glove and ball. That contraption hung on my bedroom wall from the first days of my life until I was old enough to go play outside with them. They were perfect. At first, I could barely lift the bat, but I never got tired of trying alongside my father and grandfather in the backyard. When I got older, my dad told me to swing it underwater, because he had read that that was how Gregg Jefferies trained. I was probably better equipped to handle a Wiffle-ball bat, which I often did, standing with my back to my grandfather’s pool and trying to hit his looping pitches for hours.
 
To say I was predisposed to a love of baseball would probably be an understatement. From the time that I could walk, everything on both sides of my family revolved around a ball and a bat.
 
So enthused was I about the game that one afternoon, when my mother, Elisa, spied a Little League team playing, she stopped the car, got out, and asked someone at the field how old I had to be to reg