Regarding Joe DiMaggio, I am like Miniver Cheevy: I was born too late. Whereas I was born in 1949, Joe Dimaggio played his last season of professional baseball in 1951. For some reason, I have always been obsessed with this guy. Since I did not see him play, I have to rely on what has been written about him.
This is the definitive biography of DiMaggio at this point in time. The narrative is a traditional biography, narrative in time, the writing is snappy, and the author is not shy about tarnishing DiMaggio.
Sure, Joe DiMaggio was a great baseball player, but just how good was he? Because of the mystique that surrounds the man, it is impossible to tell. You'd have to have been around to see him play to have a real opinion, and that isn't me.
DiMaggio had the greatest mystique of any ballplayer that I know about. It's hard for me to understand the power of that mystique since I wasn't there. By all accounts, he was a jerk, a failure in marriage, family, and human relationships, but he had so many idolizers and foot-soldiers doing his bidding. People gave and gave and gave to him. Why this great loyalty to the man given that he evidently gave so little back to others? I do not know.
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