You Cannot Be Serious

June 3, 2002
In his new role as TV commentator (and in his short-lived run as Davis Cup captain) McEnroe has tried to make the unlikely switch from tennis enfant terrible to tennis elder statesman. Judging by the welcome he has received from both the cognoscenti and the American public, it has been a largely successful transition. This memoir of growing up (or not growing up) on the men's tour tracks the same course. Unfortunately, when shifted to the page, the reinvention produces a much more muddled result. All of the career highlights and lowlights are here—his idolization of Borg, his seminal matches with Connors and at Davis Cup, his clashes with the British press at Wimbledon, his romantic perambulations. But while appealingly self-aware ("For me, the relief of not losing has always been just as strong as, if not stronger than, the joy of winning") and consistently honorable, the effort feels a little dull. McEnroe's sincere pronouncements lack the cojones
that might have made the book entertaining, and yet for all his openness, he engages in too much self-justification to seem truly vulnerable or poignant. The book grew out of a profile Kaplan wrote for the New Yorker
two summers ago. That piece managed to present McEnroe as affable without diluting what is essentially brash and true about the star, and one wishes a little more of that boldness would have crept in here. For McEnroe, the persona hinted at in public remains more interesting and complicated than the person he gives us in this book. While the champion would no doubt argue, it appears that he has hit this one a little wide.

February 1, 2002
This memoir should be stinging.

Copyright 2001 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

June 1, 2002
The years from the late 1970s through the early 1990s made up a golden era in professional tennis. Connors, Borg, and Lendl were all household names during the period, but nobody attracted attention the way John McEnroe did, for both his on-court triumphs and his reputation as the sport's enfant terrible. His profane outbursts, usually directed at hapless linesmen and umpires, became legendary. (The title of this autobiography derives from his most famous invective.) Writing with a good-humored maturity borne of age and experience, McEnroe recounts his edgy years as a star, wincing a bit at the youthful excesses and the self-important posturing. His recollections fall into three categories: accounts of key matches, life as a jet-setting celebrity, and reflections on the emotional roller coaster that has been his personal life (including his much-chronicled marriage to and divorce from actress Tatum O'Neal). Tennis fans will revel in the match accounts; McEnroe, a true student of the game, is an excellent television tennis commentator, and his analyses make fascinating reading. The jet-set anecdotes read well, too, thanks to the engaging, self-deprecating humor the author brings to his tales of partying with the rich and famous. As charismatic as ever, McEnroe is still a celebrity--game-show hosting is now part of his repertoire--and his book is sure to draw a crowd.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2002, American Library Association.)