The book follows Bonds' life from childhood to the present day, and the portrait that emerges of Bonds is not one of a monstrous, steroid-addled freak but, in fact, of a deeply insecure overgrown child who had a terrible father and an upbringing that completely lacked any teaching on how to interact with other humans. As Bonds is chased by the feds, tracks down Ruth and limps around the basepaths, we spoke with Pearlman about how Bonds is probably handling all of this.

Full interview is after the jump:

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In the beginning of the book, you actually talk with Bonds and tell him you're writing a book about him, even though you'd already talked to hundreds of people. Was this really the first time you'd been in a locker room with him since you started working on it? How many experiences with him had you had before you started writing it? What inspired you to do it in the first place?

It actually was my first face-to-face encounter with Barry since I started working on "Love Me, Hate Me." I had seen him once before in the Giants clubhouse earlier in the 2005 season, but at that point I didn't feel comfortable approaching him. I wanted to have as much research under my belt as possible, so I could present myself as informed and hard-working when it came to all subjects Bonds. In other words, I didn't want to just go up to him and say, "Uh, I'm starting a book on you. Can we talk?" I felt like I had to have some substance behind the words.

Even though I assumed he wouldn't remember me, I'd actually interviewed Barry four or five times during my years at Sports Illustrated. During the 2000 season I even did a lengthy profile on him—the first time he talked to the magazine in seven years. We sat down for about an hour, and he was spectacular. Funny, charming, charismatic. In fact, when I handed in the piece my editor was very angry. His exact words, and I quote, were, "If you wanted to give Barry Bonds a blowjob, we could have flown him to New York." So I adjusted the story, which still was very positive.

That said, my inspiration for "Love Me, Hate Me" had nothing to do with past interactions. I was coming off of promoting my first book, "The Bad Guys Won!" and I really wanted to follow up with a definitive sports biography. I made a mental list of sports icons, and every one — from Namath to Owens to Mantle to Gretzky — had been written about at least once in a very good, life-spanning biography. Then I thought about Bonds — an icon, a record holder, a legend, controversial, loved, hated. And most important, he's incredibly mysterious. My book isn't "Game of Shadows." It's a detailed, in-depth,ultra-researched look into the life of Bonds, from his dad's boyhood to Barry's youth to Serra High School to ASU to the minors and Pittsburgh and San Fran. I wanted to know what makes this guy tick; why he is who he is. I think I've discovered many of the answers.

Have you heard anything from Bonds or his people since the book came out?

I've heard from some of Barry's loyal childhood friends, and they're not happy. There are people out there who only want one side of Barry presented — the smiling, charming man who loves little kids and ice cream and long walks on the beach. And, factually, there is that side to him. But it's often obscured by the other side of the man.

How much did you want to beat Jay Canizaro's ass after he pulled the switcharoo on you on live TV? We'd have really wanted to beat his ass.

Severely. I interviewed 524 people for this book, and he's the only one who did that. It infuriated me to no end, because you're talking about a writer's reputation. After I calmed down I called Jay and said, "Here's a way to settle this. You and I appear on the next day's Cold Pizza (the show where he denied all). I'll bring the audiotape of our interview and a printed transcript, and you show me exactly where and how you were misquoted." He apologized, and I actually felt sort of bad for him. Because it wasn't done out of malice, but fear. Jay was afraid that Bonds or someone could sue him, or he'd be blackballed from baseball, or ... whatever. But when you go 12 years without being accused of misquoting someone, and then someone accuses you of that, you become very, very defensive. Especially in a case like this.

Do you think there will be any recourse from other players to Cory Lidle's comments about Bonds? Will he be considered as breaking some sort of code?

I would say we've actually reached a point where Bonds bashing is a little more acceptable than, say, Pudge Rodriguez bashing or Roger Clemens bashing. The one thing Bonds doesn't have going for him is tons of friends. So it's not like hundreds of ballplayers are furious at Lidle for ratting at a buddy.

At what point did you first hear about Game of Shadows? The book is quoted in yours, though it's obviously a dramatically different book. What do you think of the book? Do you feel it benefits yours to have that out, hurts it, whatever? Was there more stuff about steroids in yours because of that?

I first learned of "Game of Shadows" about halfway through my own research. I wasn't especially worried, mainly because I was so entrenched in my own stuff. I will say this — I have never been bothered by the book's existence or success. It's an excellent read, an excellent piece of research, and Mark and Lance deserve everything they're getting. I truly mean that.

The only thing that bothers me is how my book has been labeled by many as "the other Bonds book," or when radio boobs say, "Another steroid book is out ..." I worked my ass off on this project. I interviewed 524 people, dug through thousands upon thousands of clips. I bled a kidney here. So to be dismissed by some as "the other" book or as "a steroids book" stings. This is not a steroids book, but a biography of a fascinating, conflicted, gifted man. Barry Bonds is not just a ballplayer who used steroids. He's the son and grandson of alcoholics; a kid who was raised in the bubble of the baseball clubhouse and is unable to relate with most human beings; a person who, from a young age, has struggled with race and class; a man who desperately wants approval but doesn't know how to go about it. There are stories upon stories upon stories in my book, 95% of which have nothing to do with steroids and everything to do with the development and maturation of Barry Bonds. So do I get prickly about comparisons? Yup. I do.

ESPN totally acted like your Griffey scoop was theirs in an attempt to make it look like they didn't get their asses handed to them by Sports Illustrated. Agree with that statement? Do you mind?

Actually, I'm thankful ESPN the Magazine ran the excerpt from my book. And it's hard to blame them for trying to come back at SI. The one thing I'll say is the timing really backfired for me, because the excerpt was strictly steroids-related, so it gave the imprssion that my book was another Shadows. But I don't blame ESPN at all.

Do you think Bonds is lying when he says he doesn't care about Hank Aaron's record? Do you think he really wants to destroy it and piss everyone off?

Bonds doesn't want Aaron's record. I'm convinced of this. He certainly wants to pass Ruth, the ultimate icon in the game of baseball. But I think Barry's take on Aaron is different. Somewhere inside of him — maybe deep, deep, deep inside — he wants to be loved and respected. But passing Aaron would just be a terrible thing for Bonds, for baseball, for Bud Selig, for the record book. The cries for an asterick would be very loud. And more notably, I think Bonds would lose a ton of African-American support. You wanna use performance-enhancing drugs to pass Babe Ruth? Fine. But Hank Aaron is not just a baseball figure, but a civil rights leader, too. The No. 755 is about staring down racism as much as it is sending a ball over a fence. Bonds might be self-absorbed, but he's not a dumb man. Passing Aaron crosses the line.

The Bonds you describe in the book make us think of what we've always thought about Kobe Bryant: A case of complete arrested development, someone who has absolute no idea how to deal with other humans and therefore consistently does weird things. Are there any ways where he's normal? Does he just lack perspective of everything?

You nailed it on the head with the phrase "arrested development." Bonds is normal in that he's very kind to children around the clubhouse, he likes TV and, uhm, yeah. But there's an important point to be made here, and I can't underestimate it: A lot of this is not his fault.

What else should we expect from a kid whose father raised his son to win at all costs; who was never taught the value of money or hard work and never learned about treating people with dignity? From a very early age, Barry that that athletic brilliance is a ticket to the easy life, and that if you are blessed with great physical skills, you will be worshipped and admired without fail. He saw that with his dad, with Willie Mays, with the other guys in the Giants clubhouse in the late 1960s and early 70s. In short, he was groomed to be the man he is.

Have you watched "Bonds on Bonds?" We could do without the extreme close-ups of his head while he cries. What do you think of the show?

I hate the show. Hate it. Stopped watching it. I understand why ESPN is doing it, though I find it journalistically troubling. What bothers me most is how the producers of the show appear to be giving Bonds free reign to craft his own image. The man is neither all bad nor all good. But if you watch "Bonds on Bonds," you'd think he's another Sean Casey or Torii Hunter. And he's not.

Do you think Barry's a better dad than his dad?

Unquestionably. Barry tries with his kids—he genuinely tries. He showers them with a lot of love and attention. On the other hand, he can also be very condescending to his kids, and his judgment is often, uhm, questionable. For example, last spring when he begged cameramen to include his son Nikolai in the frame during a tirade against the media. The poor kid looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. But we all have lapses, I suppose.

Do you think, deep down, Barry regrets taking steroids?

No doubt about it. Had Barry vanished after the 1998 season, he goes down as one of the 20 greatest ballplayers of all time. Now, his legacy is more about substance abuse than on-field performance. Bonds knows the history of baseball. He gets it. He understands what legacy means, and what it's like to be remembered beyond death for greatness. He wanted that badly, and it no longer can happen. It's sad. Because people now forget how beautiful of an all-around ballplayer he once was.

If you were alone with John Rocker for three hours, what would happen? You guys ever talk anymore? Do you agree with our assessment that Rocker isn't as evil and racist as he's made out to be; we just all feel better hating Rocker and demonizing him because it subtly forgives our quieter, lesser prejudices?

Ha! True story: When Rocker was with Cleveland I went into the Indians clubhouse to interview Ellis Burks. Rocker sees me, runs to his locker, digs out a disposable camera and starts taking pictures of me — just to be an ass. So I can't imagine our three hours together now being all that fun.

That said, I have no bad wishes/thoughts toward him. When he was with the Long Island Ducks last year I wrote a column for Newsday expressing hope that he makes it. What happened to Rocker was terribly unfair. I wrote a piece, he expressed his thoughts, I wrote about them. Were his thoughts hurtful and angry and whatever? Sure. But does anyone really think he's the only professional athlete with those sort of thoughts? I wrote the story because he was interesting and weird, and it's very rare for athletes to open up like that. But he was demonized as the world's only racist, and that was unfair. He's certainly not evil. In fact, it looks like he's trying to turn things around.

Do you like being a sportswriter? You're more of a biography/historian/anecdote gatherer now, rather than a beat reporter or a profile writer. Do you like press boxes? What's the culture of sportswriting like? Are they more or less miserable than bloggers?

I covered baseball for about six years at Sports Illustrated, and I loved 90% of it. By the end, however, I was beat up. I couldn't stand another clichéd quote or 13-inning Tigers-Royals game or being nailed in the head by a TV camera during postgame interviews. In the past I'd listen to some second baseman talk about "this game means everything" or "we've just gotta take this week one game at a time" and nod. But that last year, there was a voice in my head screaming, "Who cares!? Who cares!?" My passion for baseball wasn't gone, just my passion for covering it.

In hindsight, I needed a change. I love writing books — the digging and investigating and tracking down people like Jerry Don Gleaton and Curtis Wilkerson. It's a rush. It's the hardest job I've ever had, yet the most rewarding.

As for press boxes, I never liked them. I love the banter with other writers, but I always preferred finding a seat in the stands and having the whole 3D experience. It was an advantage of being a magazine writer—there was no daily deadline to meet.

The culture of sportswriting — interesting question. My guess is that sportswriters are happier than bloggers, because many bloggers are confined to their living rooms and a TV. Baseball writers are living their dreams. A guy like Tom Verducci, for example, loves baseball. Cherishes it. I never saw him unhappy at the baseball stadium. It was a dream job for him as a young writer, and it still is. A lot of the writers I know feel the same way. There are legitimate drawbacks — travel, jerk athletes, etc — but at the end of the day you're watching a baseball game, and your eyes serve as the eyes for thousands of readers. That's a beautiful thing.

Love Me, Hate Me [Amazon]

Walker, a sports columnist for The Wall Street Journal, devotes himself to winning the league, hiring two assistants and infiltrating Major League dugouts to try to talk managers into giving his players more field time. (He even gives certain players official team T-shirts.) Along the way, Walker looks at the history of fantasy baseball, from its founding days in the New York literary world to its current position, in which fantasy experts are actually being hired by Major League teams. But mostly, he tries to figure out how to win his league ... just like you.

The book is available at Amazon.com and at bookstores everywhere, and Walker took time out to answer our dumb questions, after the jump.

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We love that you boil down the fiercest fight in baseball right now — statheads vs. scouts — down to, essentially, "nobody knows anything." Do you think a lot of that is bluster? Who do you see controlling the game in 10 years?

Ah, the great feud. Baseball's Waterloo. The ultimate smackdown cage match of death! Yes, I think it's a little overblown. It's no secret that baseball teams were slow to embrace the quantitative stuff and that they're all looking for ways to cover that flank now. They're definitely using more stats, especially for things like the late rounds of the amateur draft, when they used to basically throw darts. I'm pretty sure the list of teams who would consider Tony Womack as a leadoff option is a little shorter. But as I mention in the book, the stats are only able to predict the performance of ballplayers with about 60 percent accuracy. Nobody knows how accurate the scouts are, since that's never been quantified, but it's hard to imagine they're better than that. I think baseball is a game played by humans and is therefore susceptible to the vagaries of human nature. But isn't that what makes it fun?

It's pretty amazing when you go to Blue Jays manager Carlos Tosca and give him statistics about Josh Phelps he knew nothing about. (It's almost no surprise he was fired shortly thereafter.) Did you ever actually think, when you talked to some of these managerial guys, that you might actually persuade them to do something? Or were you just sort of playing around?

Going in, I never thought I would take it as far as I did. But sometime in June before a game I showed some pitch count statistics to Bob Cluck, Detroit's pitching coach. He literally grabbed my arm and pulled me into Alan Trammell's office and asked me to repeat them. That's when I started to realize that baseball was a lot more insular than I thought. When the hell does Joe Torre have time to read up on the latest Sabermetrical theories of bullpen usage? He doesn't. It's hard enough for these guys to find a working coffee pot in the visitor's clubhouse, much less log on to Baseball Prospectus. These guys are so busy making 100 little decisions a day that they don't have time to get a lot of input from the outside. So the whole thing started out as kind of a goof but got a lot more serious. At one point in September, I talked to Lou Piniella about using one of my guys (B.J. Upton) as a DH, and a few days later he actually started doing it. I'm not sure if I had anything to do with this, but I'm pretty sure I was one of only a few people who offered an opinion.

You have no idea what kind of fantasy nerd dream you're living by getting some of your players to wear your team T-shirt. How do you even approach a guy to do that?

I can't explain it. In other areas of my life, I m pretty easily mortified. I don't care how drunk I am, there s NO WAY I'm getting up on stage at a karaoke bar. But for some reason I'm a different guy in the clubhouse. I've always been able to ask athletes the most idiotic and bizarre questions without feeling the least bit self-conscious. So saying something like, "Dude, you re on my Roto team, do you want a shirt?" wasn t that far from the ordinary. In general, these guys were happy to get them — not because they were honored to be on my team, but because they basically travel around half the year living out of a duffel bag and don't have much time to go shopping. Getting a freebie shirt increases their wardrobe by something like 40 percent. The best moment was when I got a call from a guy at the White Sox who told me he d seen Damaso Marte wearing my shirt on the field during warmups. The next time I was in Chicago, Marte told me it was his "lucky" shirt. I snapped a picture of him wearing it, which is up on my Web site: Fantasylandthebook.com. It was one of a bunch of moments during that season where I was thinking: Holy shit. Did that really just happen?

We were continually impressed and surprised that you had such open access to players. Does the WSJ have some super press pass that allows you to just show up at any game at any time? And what percentage of the players, would you say, actually like fantasy baseball, and which are annoyed with what it stands for? It seems, as you note, as a bit of an extension of the stathead notion that they re robotic stat producers.

If I don t say this up front, Dow Jones security will be clearing out my desk within the half-hour. The WSJ had nothing to do with any of this, other than granting me a leave to write a book about managing a baseball team that doesn't really exist (which is a story in itself, I guess). To get credentials, I had to explain the book's premise about 200 times to various people. Some of the team media guys knew me well enough to figure I wasn't going to do anything too ridiculous. A few of them actually play Roto, so they were surprisingly sympathetic. As for the ballplayers, yeah, a fair number of them hate Roto. Some of them have friends who draft them in their leagues every year and give them a hard time whenever they hit a slump. Some of them don't like being singled out from the team, especially if they don't look so good under the statistical microscope. But what surprised me is that the majority of players has either made peace with fantasy or even come to appreciate it. Major leaguers are strongly discouraged from playing fantasy baseball (for obvious reasons), but there s a fantasy football league in just about every clubhouse. Eric Hinske once held me captive for 15 minutes explaining how Curtis Martin ruined his fantasy team.

Honestly, we think actually going to locker rooms and asking athletes the same questions over and over seems like the least fun thing in the world to do, which is why we do this site instead of being a sports journalist anymore. You touch on the idea that this book was a way of removing all the cynicism that being a sports reporter had built up in you. Are you having more fun at your job now? You want to do this forever?

Once you get a few gray hairs, there's something really absurd about covering sports. There s something crazy about watching Bob Ryan or Peter Gammons walk up to some ballplayer or random team flunky, whip out a notebook and start writing down everything the dude has to say. I think it's the rare guy like Ryan or Gammons who has the nimbleness of mind to keep finding new ways to love the job. I'm not sure I'm one of them. There's a large part of me that would rather live in a Mongolian yurt for six months than write another story about steroids or ballpark financing or to try to wring another quote out of Juan Gonzalez.

I think that's what this book was about for me: finding a way to continue to love the job and to love baseball, no matter how many stupid moves the management makes. And you know what? It worked. It might sound corny, but some of the players I followed that season — David Ortiz, Jacque Jones, Bill Mueller and Doug Mientkiewicz, to name a few — reminded me that baseball is a really hellaciously hard game to play. I have a lot more respect for the guys in cleats now.

As a WSJ guy, do you read sports blogs? Do you trust them? Is there value for a reporter in them?

Maybe not a reporter who's covering the ins and outs of the new bankruptcy legislation on Capitol Hill, but for a sports reporter, absolutely. Anybody who whines that you can t "trust" the sports blogs is missing the point. As a group, newspapers take sports much too seriously and by doing so, they've made themselves irrelevant to the conversations that 90 percent of knowledgeable sports fans are actually having. So while most newspaper sportswriters are vomiting up their "take" on the most predictable headline of the day, everybody else is talking about their fantasy teams or those Matt Leinart photos or what Clinton Portis is wearing in the locker room or (let s face it) the latest developments in the lives of Renee and Angela.

I'm not sure what direction the sports blogs are heading in, but the traditional "sports section" is looking more pointless by the hour.

We enjoyed seeing the personalities behind the "fantasy expert" personas of a lot of these guys. (We loved Ron Shandler s "response" to you on his site.) Since they ve read the book, is everybody pretty cool with it?

Wait ... You mean somebody was cool with it? I m kidding. Most of the guys in Tout Wars are fine with their portrayals. Ron Shandler may not like my assessment of the relative dimness of his basement, and Lawr Michaels may have a point when he says that his hairdo isn't technically a mullet, but they're not going to light me on fire at the Tout Wars draft. Still, writing a book like this about a group of guys who are enormously competitive with one another was a tough business. Some feelings were hurt along the way, and I've had some calls and email exchanges with people in the league that have been personally difficult. As a writer, you have to say things about people in print that you would never tell them as a friend. Still, I think readers know that the book isn't a serious attempt at writing the biographies of these guys; it's about what I saw and thought while playing in this league and getting my butt kicked by these enormously smart people. And at the end of the day, nobody comes across looking like a bigger jackass than I do.

After playing in Tout Wars, can you ever play in a "citizen" fantasy league again?

Absolutely. Hey, I'm $50,000 in the hole on Rotisserie leagues now. After taking on people like Jason Grey, Joe Sheehan, Trace Wood and Matt Berry, I have no problem beating up on civilians and taking their money.

Our favorite little tidbit is the guy who, since he only plays fantasy baseball and has no rooting interest in any particular team, just buys team merchandise from the bargain bin, since he doesn t care what the logo is. That's hysterical, and kind of sad. Do you think fantasy sports can take away some of the joy of being a fan in that kind of way?

The way I see it, there are two types of fans. The Type 1 fan is the guy who has been socialized to think that you're supposed to pick one team, watch all of its games, follow its roster moves, set up a memorabilia shrine in your basement and basically bond with it for life no matter how much it starts to resemble the Detroit Tigers. But there s a subset of Type 2 fans like Steve Moyer, the guy who shops in the discount bins. They just want to be fans of baseball generally without having to bow down every summer and put their mental health in the hands of Josh Paul. A lot of these people love Roto because it's a pure expression of the way they engage with the game. As a Tigers fan, I'm starting to think the Type 2 guys have it figured out.

We always find it strange how MLB (and the NFL) embrace fantasy sports now that they re so huge online, even though, for the most part, they're That Demon Gambling. Do you see any hypocrisy there?

Totally. But I have a hard time getting outraged about it. Maybe if the owners can make a fat profit on fantasy games, they'll stop charging $9 for a cup of that yellowish bubblewater they serve at the ballpark.

We love Nando, one of your assistants with the team, and not just because he says Deadspin is his favorite sports site. Do you still talk to those guys?

Seeing as Nando lives on my couch, it s really not that difficult to keep in touch ... I m joking. Sig and I talk all the time, although now that he's working for the Cardinals he's a lot less chatty about all the mind-altering statistical advancements he s working on. Nando and I talk almost daily. He helped me through the Tout Wars draft last year, and he'll be back at my side again this time. At the moment I'm a little concerned, though. Last time I heard from him he was on a balcony overlooking the French Quarter during Mardi Gras trying to balance the phone on his shoulder without spilling a drop of any of the three beers he was carrying. Since then, nothing.

As many people that we know play fantasy baseball, we think we know even more who play fantasy football. Have you ever played that? That seems decidedly less scientific.

Never played. To be honest, it doesn t seem complicated enough to turn you into a total nutjob, so I doubt I ever will.

So, you ready for your next book? Get on that.

Definitely. But first I gotta fix the Knicks.

Fantasyland [Amazon]
Fantasyland: The Book [Official Site]

Blythe follows his beloved Tar Heels around during what would become their championship season and ends up spending time in the enemy camp — even talking to the Evil Mastermind himself, Coach K. (He makes him cry. Really.) It's an impartial, greatly amusing and kinda sweet screed about what it means to be a fan and why, in the end, having someone (like Duke) to personify all the hatred you have inside is, well ... healthy.

After the jump, Blythe talks about his book, why sportswriting is a horrible profession and where he'll be watching this Saturday's big Duke-UNC game.

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First off, it's frustrating to us that the big moment at the end of your book involves North Carolina winning the national championship ... over our Illini. You Chapel Hill people get great teams every five years or so, but we Illini usually just stumble across one every 20. It seems unfair.

You gotta enjoy them while you can. I think Illinois' big men are actually better this year than they were last year, though. (James Augustine) has really brought it up a level.

Yeah, yeah. First off, you talk a lot in the book about the difference between your "journalist" side — the one that wants to be "fair" — and the "beast" side, which just wants to see Duke destroyed and the entire team ripped to shreds. We kind of think the "journalist" side of people is less honest the "beast" side, and that the reason a lot of mainstream sportswriting is so bloodless and bland is because reporters spend so much time pretending to be "impartial" that they lose the "beast" fan side ... and end up just thinking of sports as some job — one they ultimately hate. Did you find it jarring, as essentially a rabid fan, to cover last year s team alongside mainstream beat reporters who are so caught up in their own ways?

When I was a kid, I thought, "Oh, what a great thing to be a beat writer." Once I spent some time with some of these beat reporters, I thought this has to be the saddest job next to being, like, a street sweeper or something. It s worse. They may deep down have partisan allegiances, but to see them, they seem — in general — really sour-spirited about sports. I was there more as like a hobbyist, which is the way I like to cover things anyway. You can look at things in a way that, when it s your profession to cover all these games, seem to fall off your radar screen. You know, in the '60s, when you had these guys coming in covering the act of covering politics, you saw a real breakthrough in political journalism. I felt that way a little bit doing this, like I was lucky to be able to trespass through all these different zones.

It seems like a lot of mainstream sports journalism is set up to make the reporter not enjoy sports anymore.

Exactly. A lot of mainstream sports journalism these days are business stories. I used to turn to the sports pages because I didn't want to read the business pages. A lot of the time now, the stories feel very similar.

Let's look at Duke. You re obviously a North Carolina fan, so you re programmed to hate Duke. But these days, everybody hates Duke. Do you think it's just because they've been successful?

In the '80s, for some strange reason, there was a brief moment where Duke was America's Team. In the book, I compare them to a boy band. They were sort of well-scrubbed, cute guys — if you can call Jay Bilas and those guys cute. Somehow over the next 10 years, they became America's most hated team. It was fascinating, and very gratifying to see.

I asked Coach K when I saw him [for the book] why he thought Duke was America s most hated team. Initially, he parried the questions, but finally he said it was because Duke won a lot, and anytime someone wins a lot, they become hated. But I don't think that's it; there's a lot of teams out there that win a lot.

I think it's that Duke has become the embodiment of a public relations team. Duke's rise happened to coincide with the rise of cable TV, the rise of ESPN and in particular Dick Vitale, who is the ultimate frontrunner. People began to take umbrage with the way the media had this reflexive description of "Duke is the preeminent program that is both academic and successful in basketball." They started talking about the Duke players as if these guys were all young philosophers from 5th Century Athens. And they were just basketball players. People sensed the disconnect between that perception and reality, and it got on people's nerves.

One of the things we love about doing this site is that we don t actually have to talk to athletes, who, on the whole — with exceptions of course — are boring and risk-averse. It allows us to be honest about our lack of impartiality. But as a Duke hater, you actually went and talked to Coach K and some of their players, seeing them as humans. Was that hard to jive that with the hatred of them you write about so fluently?

That's a great advantage of your site. That way you can say whatever you wish and you don t have to listen to the same answers over and over.

I interviewed Coach K for about two hours. I hated the guy. Hated him, based on screaming at him through the TV for 25 years. So I got really nervous going to interview him, not because I thought he'd detect that I hated him — though I thought he might — but because, well, what if I liked him? That would really screw up this enjoyable pastime for me. Talking to him, it humanized him to some extent, but still, he came across as the type of guy who stalks the sidelines and screams at refs. I went in there and had my encounter, and it briefly softened my view of him. But now, having been out of there for a few months, I find myself completely reverting to form and hating him again.

But yeah. You see beat reporters, and they'll write something that's controversial, or even slightly edgy, and suddenly access becomes a problem. It's a weird circle.

Where you watching the game this Saturday?

I'll end up watching with my mother at her house. My mother and I still talk after every game. In a way, she s kind of the hero of the book. I somehow feel that her journey to this kind of fandom is pretty extraordinary, and her passion is refreshing.

You can guy the book at your local bookstore or on Amazon.com.

We know we're supposed to be all full of bile and vinegar around here, but we have a hard time even pretending to be cynical about this book: We desperately wish we could write like this. Buy it. Seriously. And then read our interview with McGregor about what "mainstream" sports fans are missing about NASCAR, why Donald Trump hates him and how Deadspin will change the world, yes yes. Full interview after the jump.

You have to be the only Sports Illustrated author with a blurb from Tom Perrotta. We think this book transcends NASCAR, or sportswriting even. It really does feel like a more plugged-in Kerouac at times. We find it amazing that this was your first book. What took you so long?

I blush at your flattery. And if I had an email smiley that did likewise, I'd post it as proof. I have one that winks, quite knowingly by the looks of it, but have yet to figure out how to deploy it. In any case, being neither a saucy, fifty-three year-old divorcee with a taste for jokey forwards in the accounts-receivable department of a Beloit trucking company; nor an IM-savvy junior high school danceline co-captain from San Dimas, I rarely convey the state of my thoughts with emoticons. Except the one that hurls like it just came off a two-week tequila bender in Vegas. I'm using it next month in a book review for the Times of London.

Too late for the short answer here, I guess, but I had another career before I started writing. And the less said about it the better, trust me. From the time I was a little kid, though, I'd always wanted be a writer. It just took me a few years to get around to it.

I think the book feels less like sportswriting because it is less like sportswriting. I just write what I see and what I hear. It's kind of a little big book about America and Americans - that happens to have a NASCAR season as its occasion for telling some stories.

Three years after your tour, how much NASCAR do you watch now?

We still watch at least part of every race in our little household. We made a lot of friends out there, and we're genuinely interested in how they do week in, week out. The truth is, though, that television pales in comparison to being at a race. Real fans know that the only way to make converts out of their friends is to get them out to the track. It's unlike anything in sports. The noise, the heat, the skin, the funnel cakes and binge-drinking are worth wallowing in for a weekend.

How thoughtful and intelligent is the average NASCAR driver, compared to other athletes? That is to say, do they fall closer to the tennis pro who was "home" "schooled" from the age of three up and has no idea how to socialize or interact with anyone who isn't a tennis player, or do they fall closer to, say, Shane Battier?

I think most NASCAR drivers fall right in the middle of the "Professional Athlete Versus Ordinary Mortal" continuum. They're nice guys, most of them, polite and incredibly accessible by the standards of other sports. Not much more or less aware of what's happening in the wider world, certainly. About as well spoken as most other pro sports performers, too. And some of the older guys are straight-up Pure-D colorful if you catch 'em at the right moment. Like when Sterling Marlin throws an M-80 under your minivan. That said, the drawlin' and brawlin' days of stock car racing are behind us. The younger fellas especially are so closely affiliated with their corporate overlords, and so well programmed, that it can be tough to knock them off-message. But then I'm a writer, and like Herr Doktor Heisenberg, change things just by trying to observe them. Maybe it was all naked Yahtzee and Jaegermeister after I walked out of their trailers.

It's a hoot to spend an afternoon with Dale, Jr., I can tell you that.

Of Mr. Battier, sadly, I know nothing.

You make some interesting points about the comparative "popularity" of NASCAR to other sports, particularly baseball. (The argument being that more people actually do watch baseball every week than NASCAR; it's just less concentrated. We're oversimplifying.) Can NASCAR get bigger? Where does it fit in?

The point I try to make in the book is just a warning about NASCAR's optimistic arithmetic. They're still fifth in terms of paid attendance behind the Big Four sports. And when it comes to television ratings, their public math is a relentless kind of self-promotion. My puny rebukes are of course quite useless against them. For all their huckleberry modesty, they're by far the savviest big league in America when it comes to inflating their own numbers and selling themselves. I have yet to see another reporter or writer anywhere question the ratings or attendance figures that NASCAR dishes out with the 'brats and the chicken wings in the media center.

As to how big they might become: The season can't get any longer, so by "growth" we're talking about pumping up the television ratings and expanding into new market areas. This they will clearly continue to do with great success. In the last 10 years they've pushed racing into urban consciousness by bringing tracks to urban areas. That's where most of their new TV eyeballs are coming from, too. Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Dallas/Fort Worth, Chicago, Miami. New York's next, so prepare yourself for the "What The Fuck Are You Lookin' At? 500."

The cost to the sport, though, has been its relationship with hardcore Southern fans and their powerful sense of tradition and possession. That the early temples like Darlington and Rockingham lost races to shinier tracks was a nasty slap in the face to NASCAR's old guard. In the coming world of racing, newly minted fans will understand stock car racing as a television show, rather than a live event, or as part of a particular culture - in much the same way most people think of other big-league sports.

How that fits into our broader culture, I'm not sure. I float a bunch of crackpot theories in the book, but I think foremost among them has to be the return to a simpler time. America is rolling back the clock these days generally, in search of some one-dimensional, Pre-Darwinian innocence. I'd say the clear-eyed, square-jawed heroes imagined and promoted by NASCAR fit quite well into that model. Look what happened the other day with Kurt Busch. People were shocked - shocked! - to hear that a professional athlete might have had a drink with his dinner, or be a boor when pulled over by the cops. Or drive too fast. Seriously, the NASCAR fan base had a lot of trouble wrapping their heads around it. It sounded too much like all the other sports.

Which reflects another attraction of the thing, and it isn't a pretty one. At the Cup level, it's the only remaining professional sport with an all-white field. Call me crazy, but the mythologically uptight, upright white athlete of yesteryear is greatly missed in certain quarters.

What do you think of this whole points and playoff system thing?

The new "playoffs" blow. It's some phony hocus-pocus on behalf of the television networks. In the past racers were rewarded for consistency. Now, with the revisions, luck plays too large a part in the outcome over the last ten races. The whole thing feels inorganic to me, and very theatrical. They'll revise it again in a few years.

What's the blog world like for NASCAR? What's the general tone of mainstream NASCAR blogs?

Earnest. Or "Ernest Goes to Pocono."

They're very straightforward and generally snarkless. Shock damper settings, paint schemes and years-long arguments over who's cooler, Tony or Kasey.

There's one, though, worth visiting, at least as a cultural aside. Gaytona.com. Bring your tap pants.

If someone is a huge sports fan but doesn't watch NASCAR — one of those people you write about who consciously avoids NASCAR — is there any hope for them? Will they just never open their mind? Do you have a recommended prescription?

Some folks will never be convinced. Others need to open their hearts. And their minds. And their wallets. Tickets for these deals aren't cheap. But go to a race. If you're not hooked after a day in the stands, you're never going to get it.

You talk in the book about how a large part of NASCAR'S popularity derives from America's obsession with the automobile. What kind of car do you drive?

My radiant photographer bride and I, despite living in New York, have kept our 1993 Toyota pick-up. 129,000 miles. We never drive it, of course - we might lose our parking space. It's more of a 4x4 rolling storage locker than anything.

How do you think the literary praise for the book changed you as a writer? Do you get more opportunities now?

I have become insufferable, bien sur, and have taken to wearing a beret; which goes wonderfully with my cape and jodhpurs. I've got a two-bottle-a-day absinthe habit. And Updike won't stop calling about his bowling league. Jackass.

Good reviews are swell, but nothing has changed. Like you, I'm a guy who sits in his sweatpants and a Maple Leafs jersey all day typing.

Didn't you get in some sort of fight with Donald Trump?

Yes. Yes I did. I choose to characterize it as our "public feud," although the man wouldn't know me if he fell over me. I'd written a book review for The New York Times that mentioned him, some might say irreverently. He took exception to it and branded me a "loser" in their letters column a week later. He said "some men choose to cast shadows" (him presumably) and that "others choose to live in them" (me, apparently - or really anyone who lives next to one of his tall, surpassingly ugly buildings).

Anyway, I thought about it long and hard and realized he was right. I am a loser. Thus have I applied to Trump Online University in the interest of self-improvement. (My safety school is EBay University - rockin' party school from what I hear.) I think the curriculum's based on "The Apprentice," so I'm hoping to major in "Taking Credit" at Trump U., with a minor in "Assigning Blame."

After I make my first million, I'll buy a pair of matched, gold-inlaid curling irons and challenge him to a duel in Central Park.

Ever think of becoming an ESPN talking head? What do you think of the network? Be honest.

No. I've done ESPN a couple times, and a couple of ways, and didn't feel like it was a good fit. Too much barking in too small a space. Though physically, of course, quite beautiful, I just didn't feel like I had much beyond that to contribute. I like doing Letterman very much, though, because he lets me tell my little anecdotes.

As to ESPN, it will constitute a benign world government by 2035.

Have you been in a motor home since your trip?

Sadly, no. I kind of miss it, too, with its tiny little appliances and lurid upholstery and 40-second showers and so forth. Having done nearly a year in one, though, 300 consecutive nights, I'm pretty sure we're done with RVs. Hang on, let me check with my wife.

Mm-hmm, we're done.

You writing another book? If so, what's it about, and if not, why?

Yes, I am. But I'm not allowed to talk about it yet. Although it's very sexy, and fantastically, life-alteringly important. It'll come out in the spring of 2008. And, like Sunday Money (due out in paperback next May, by the way), it will be a book that no American can afford to be without. If they choose to actually read it, then so much the better.

What do you think of Deadspin? Be mean.

I think when history looks back on us from the great, grave distance of time, and seeks to judge us for who we are and what we've done; when our descendants search for themselves in us, and ask how humanity rose to meet its fate across the ages; and when they hear our voices calling out to them through the howling vastness of the years, they will discover in a single defining cultural moment everything they so desperately seek....

Deadspin is that moment.

Sunday Money [Amazon]
JeffMacGregor.com [Official Site]
Olya Evanitsky Photography [Official Site]

Today's first recipient of this "honor" is Jere Longman, reporter for The New York Times and author of If Football's A Religion, Then Why Don't We Have A Prayer, a hilarious and strangely sad look at the beleaguered and perpetually angry fans of the Philadelphia Eagles. With the Eagles at their lowest point in nearly seven years, we thought this was as good a time as any to check in.

Interview with Longman after the jump. And see? We love!

Deadspin: Your book is almost entirely sourced from Eagles fans, rather than their players, a technique which is much more fun, because players rarely publicly shotgun beer. What's the mood among those fans today, now that the Eagles seem doomed?

Longman: In general, it's trepidation: Disaster is here. There s a pattern in Philadelphia sports, and we're in the "disaster" point. What you'll see now is the Eagles win a couple of games in a row; disaster never comes when they're expecting it, only when they re invested in the team again. People will start rooting again and sticking their necks out for their team, and as soon as they hope, their necks will get chopped off. That s always what happens in Philadelphia.

Deadspin: Eagles fans are always saying they'e so tortured, but, you know, we re Arizona Cardinals fans, and we look at the Eagles and say, "Jeez, at least you occasionally win. You got something."

Longman: Yeah, I have a friend of mine in Buffalo who says the same thing. Part of the pain is that the Eagles are good enough to give you hope. That always makes the pain greater. As soon as you think this will be the year, the guillotine comes down.

Deadspin: Is there a sense now that this is the end not only of this year, but the end of a run almost?

Longman: I thought at the beginning of this year that this was a crossroads season. If they don't make the playoffs this year, it really could be the end. They're getting old and they're getting vulnerable. They're certainly at one of their many lows with fans right now.

Deadspin: Terrell Owens makes our brain bleed. What's Eagles Nation think of him now?

Longman: Well, people recognized that he was not the type of player who was going to be universally beloved in Philadelphia, but if he was going to put them over the top, that would have been fine. But like another journalist said last year, if the Eagles would have won the Super Bowl last year, Owens would have been the greatest sports hero in Philadelphia sports history. In Philadelphia, we don t want just heroes; we want bloody heroes. He would have been perfect.

And honestly, I think there s a lot more support for him in the city than people realize. More and more people are realizing that professional sports is not a morality play, and instead whether or not you win.

Deadspin: Why are Philly fans so mean?

Longman: Philadelphia is not as blue-collar as it once was, or as it likes to see it is. Football is the sport that most closely relates to that feeling of being an underdog; it's the mirror in which the city sees its reflection. It's dirty and nasty and focuses only on winning. That s Philadelphians.

If Football's A Religion, Then Why Don't We Have A Prayer [Amazon]