From Kirkus Reviews:
It's where on the sandlot you, as a kid, first essayed the national pastime that determines your lot in life, according to the comic proponents of the Ryan Theory of Adolescent Development in American Males. The Ryans, pŠre et fils, can convince any real American male that position is of even more consequence in baseball than it is in the Kamasutra. Baseball sets character more firmly than nature or nurture. Better than Costello coached by Abbott, the kids know who's on first. First base is occupied by a tall athlete who, in manhood, seethes because he didn't pitch. On the pitcher's mound is the best-looking lad (since the audience will focus mostly on him) who also happens to be the coach's kid. The center fielder ``will never lose the aura of space about him.'' Look out for the shortstop, and don't ask about the left fielder. The incumbents in each of the nine positions are described in terms of raw ingredients, the game's imprint, and the finished product--which, the Ryans claim, explains a lot about the state of the nation. Benedict Arnold never played, but Nathan Hale, we are told, played second. Nonplayers, substitutes, and batboys (who are there to be killed by flung bats) are not neglected, and the Ryans offer a learned discussion of the lasting importance of one's place in the batting order. Full of what passes for statistics and references to bogus studies (surely derived from too much time spent in sports bars during the baseball strike), the text will perfectly suit the True American Guy, who, after all, is (1) a great ball player, and (2) a Guy with a great sense of humor. Gender-specific and possibly dangerous to right fielders, the light text will easily tickle the fans just in time for another season, -- Copyright ©1996, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Booklist:
This seems like it might have been written by a couple of myopic Ivy League professors determined to transform baseball into a metaphor for human experience. The Ryans--dad Mike and son Luke--aren't Ivy Leaguers, but they do walk a thin line between imitating the baseball philosophers (George Will et al.) and satirizing them. The book's premise is that the position a boy plays in Little League determines his personality. (No mention is made of how position affects the new era of female Little Leaguers.) Shortstops are feisty, courageous, admirable, and make good demolition-derby drivers. Catchers gravitate toward military careers, may become trial lawyers, and are stern taskmasters as fathers. The Ryans take this version of baseball phrenology around the field, and though it often seems ridiculous, anyone who has spent anytime around baseball players will swear to you it's true, at least sometimes. Both a parody of serious baseball literature and a heartwarming ode to those who truly love the game, this silly yet charming book is certain to find an appreciative audience. Wes Lukowsky
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