Becoming a Major League ballplayer for Dwight and me, that was the dream.
Dwight is Dwight Gooden. Most people know him for winning the Cy Young Award. To me, though, he’s family, an uncle, but at four years older, really a brother . I can still remember those games of catch with Dwight in the backyard: him rearing back, and me somehow getting my mitt up to stop one of his fireballs. Often the two of us would sit with Grandpa (Dwight’s dad), and he’d tell us how hard it would be to make our dream come true, how just playing our best wouldn’t be enough.
He’d talk about “inside power.”
At the time, I didn’t really understand what Grandpa was driving at. But I do now. After twenty years in the “bigs” and seven Major League teams, I understand . When I landed with my first team, Milwaukee, I thought being a ballplayer was about hitting home runs. I’ve always been good at that. It took me longer to learn that “the game” as it’s played at the Major League level with millions on the line and the cameras always turned in your direction asks far more of you.
If you’re a go-along guy, it can be great. I’ve just found that too often “going along” gets in the way of being a man. I love this game. Love the feel of the bat in my hand, the grass under my feet, the shouts of encouragement as I step into the box. I draw strength from the fans and play my heart out for them.
I just wish those who control the game had more respect for the guys doing the playing.
What I want to do in this book is show you what it’s been like taking this strange, wonderful, sometimes immensely frustrating life journey. “Malcontent” . . . “greedy” . . . “selfish” I’ve had plenty of adjectives lobbed my way, and believe me, they’ve stung. There are a lot of stories to tell from a life lived on and off the field: some sweet, others horrific. Everything from soaking up Little League glory to nearly being shot to death, from learning the startling truth of how I came by my last name to playing with and for characters like A-Rod, Jeter, Lasorda, Leyland, and Torre. And, yeah, I’ll finally set the record straight about a guy named Steinbrenner and a guy named Bonds.
It’s a story Grandpa would want me to tell. It’s a story I need to tell.
From the Hardcover edition.
Share your thoughts on the Inside Power General Fiction eBook with others!
|Title of eBook: Inside Power|
|Release Date: 04-03-2007|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Crown Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Inside Power|
|Devices||Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin|
|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
You can be shunned and scorned,” my grandfather said. “You can be abused and confused, but if you have Inside Power, you have everything. Inside Power is what gets you through.”
I thought Grandpa was talking about blasting the ball when they pitch it close to your body.
Turns out that was only part of it.
This business of Inside Power is the lesson of a lifetime. Fact is, it’s the story of my life: how I learned it, lost it, and finally found it again; how Inside Power changed everything about me.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to preach or give some lecture.
I’m just going to tell you a story about how a boy became
It starts in the backyard when I’m four.
The summer heat was brutal. Must have been a hundred degrees, but I didn’t care. I was with my uncle. My uncle was my sunshine. My uncle was letting me into his world and, man, my heart was singing.
Two little boys running around the backyards and sandlots of Tampa, Florida, 1972.
Dwight Gooden, age eight.
Gary Sheffield, age four.
Dwight was my uncle, Mama’s younger brother, fourteen years younger than Mama—and to me, an only child, a big brother.
I always wanted to be in Dwight’s world. He was strong and athletic. He was tall for his age and the apple of his parents’—my grandparents’—eye.
Little boys look up to big boys. Little boys want to be big boys. Little boys dream big dreams, and I was no different. I wanted to run with the older guys. Wanted to do whatever they did. Wanted to get out there and show R