O P I N I O N

NOT THAT PROFOUND

By Nathan Graziano

I’m currently rereading W.P. Kinsella’s classic baseball novel “Shoeless Joe,” which was later adapted into the film “Field of Dreams,” which won the Oscar for “Best Picture” in 1990.

In the book, there is a scene where narrator Ray Kinsella catches up with the ghost of former major-leaguer named Archibald “Moonlight” Graham, who only played in one game for the New York Giants at the Polo Grounds in 1905 and never had an appearance at the plate, although his one wish in life was “to hold a bat in a Major-League game.”

Doc Graham—Moonlight went on to practice medicine in Chisolm, Minn., in a long career—is quickly able to deduce that Ray is a fan of the game, even before Ray tells him his name. Ray then muses that it “wouldn’t be a bad epitaph for [him]: “[Ray Kinsella] was a fan of the game.”

This one line, in a novel filled with far more eloquent and quotable passages, for some reason, resonates with me. While I was never an outstanding ball player, baseball is a passion for me, and I’ve always considered myself, first and foremost, “a fan of the game.”

As “a fan of the game,” I’m interested in more than the box scores. I’m interested in all aspects of baseball, from its history, to its strategies and complexities, to the lives of its players. And I’ve read widely on the topic—novels and biographies, histories and poems and beyond.

If it’s about baseball, I’m interested.

So when Netflix dropped the docuseries “The Clubhouse: A Year with the Red Sox” on April 8, I couldn’t wait to dive into it. Not only have I been a Red Sox fan since birth, but—as aforementioned—I’m “a fan of the game.”

Directed by Daniel George McDonald and Greg Whiteley, the series does not disappoint.

Not since I first read former MLB pitcher Jim Bouton’s controversial tell-all book, “Ball Four,” have I been able to peek under the hood of this magical sport and have such an intimate look into the lives of the players who play the game. And I have never seen these men who we watch on television—or, if we’re fortunate enough, at the ballpark—so completely revealed and humanized.

In short, “The Clubhouse” is not a series about baseball; it is a series about the baseball players and the coaches and the front offices, and their families and their struggles, mentally and physically, as they navigate a grueling schedule that starts with Spring training in February, and concludes 162 games later when the final out of regular season is recorded—unless the team is one of the 12 teams that makes it to the postseason in October¹.

The eight-episode series gives audiences a behind-the-scenes look at the 2024 Boston Red Sox, a team that finished as the definition of mediocrity, with an 81-81 record—although they actually exceeded the preseason expectations. The cameras, which were granted expansive access, follow the players into the clubhouses and their homes, into restaurants and onto the streets, talking candidly with spouses and family members and former coaches and friends and fans.

Since its release, much has been written about Red Sox All-Star left-fielder Jarren Duran’s role in the series, particularly in fourth episode “Still Alive” that concentrates on Duran’s struggles with his mental health. Here, Duran conducts a master class in courage, speaking frankly about a suicide attempt in 2022. Without a doubt, Duran does a yeoman’s work to destigmatize mental illness and his admission will likely save lives.

But it is relief pitcher Cam Booser’s narrative that especially tugs at my heartstrings. Booser’s story is the underdog’s story, the ultimate comeback tale of perseverance and drive and believing in one’s self in the face of the seemingly insurmountable.

At 32 years old, Booser—who is now pitching for the Chicago White Sox—shows up to Spring training at Fort Myers, Fla., as a non-roster invite. Having endured a multitude of injuries that forced him into early retirement, Booser then worked years as a carpenter, while battling alcoholism, before deciding to wage his baseball comeback.

He gets cut from the roster as the Red Sox break camp and is sent down to AAA Worcester before finally getting the call, a scene that the cameras capture from both ends of the phone line, and one of the greatest feel-good moments you’ll ever watch.

The Red Sox coaching staff—particularly manager Alex Cora and pitching coach Andrew Bailey—as well as general manager, Craig Beslow, also come across as exceptionally affable, men who genuinely support their players and are genuinely committed to winning.

Audiences are additionally allowed firsthand access to the struggles that foreign players experience assimilating through language barriers and the distance from their loved ones, as well as the stresses of trade deadlines on the families of players with glimpses off the minor league experience.

At one point in the series, Duran compares professional baseball players to zoo animals, where fans keep looking inside their cages, waiting for them to do something interesting. The analogy isn’t far off from the truth. Often we watch professional sports with the expectation that these athletes will do something amazing and entertaining, something superhuman that will have us cheering them on.

But sometimes we forget that these athletes are human. And “The Clubhouse: A Year with the Red Sox” brings out exactly how human these athletes are. You don’t have to be “a fan of the game” to appreciate this docuseries, just a human being.

1. Spoiler alert: The Red Sox didn’t make the postseason last year. ↩︎

You can reach Nathan Graziano at ngrazio5@yahoo.com.