Review: The Chief (2026)

By Robert Parish with Jake Uitti

The Chief speaks ... finally.

If you followed Robert Parish during his pro basketball career, you probably know the story about how he became known as "The Chief." 

It starts with the movie "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," starring Jack Nicholson. One of the character was a big, tall, Native American who never said a word. Well, Parish certainly was big and tall, and he wasn't particularly quotable during his days in the NBA. So it was an obvious move to call him "The Chief." Teammate Cedric Maxwell probably gets credit for coming up with it first, but it seemed pretty obvious that it was an appropriate nickname then and now. 

Now Parish has decided to talk, with a little push from his long-time partner, Esther. It's a bit of a surprise, but the 7-footer gives his life the once over in his book "The Chief." 

Parish starts things off with his life in Louisiana. Yes, he was always tall for his age, but it took quite a while for coordination to set in. At one point in basketball practice, Parish managed to catch a pass during a drill ... and the team stopped the workout to applaud him. But eventually his body caught up to his brain, and he became one of the top college prospects in this country. That normally would mean that every coach and the country was coming to knock on his door, and that happened. But it turned out that Parish had a little secret in the form of a baby girl, and decided he needed to stay close to home. Robert landed at tiny Centenary College in his hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana. 

Parish was ruled ineligible for NCAA play shortly before his freshman year over a dispute over test scores. He argues now that the NCAA couldn't believe that someone that good would want to play in such a tiny college, and punished him and his teammates for it. The episode comes off in a cloudy fashion, but the team never did make it off probation during Parish's time there. That meant no March Madness in spite of having a team ranked in the Top 20. 

Parish was picked eighth overall by Golden State in 1976 in the NBA draft, and spent four years developing his skills. The Warriors were falling down the standings after a title in 1975, and Parish got caught up in that. (Robert does write here about how good a player teammate Rick Barry was, and how bad a person he was. Hmmm.) Parish probably was something of a small disappointment, and the Warriors tried a major rebuilding plan that featured trading Parish and a No. 1 draft choice to Boston. The Celtics took Kevin McHale with the pick, and the swap became known as one of the most one-sided trades in basketball history. 

Parish arrived with Larry Bird and McHale in Boston, and the glory days returned to the Boston Garden. Robert couldn't be the lead scorer on those teams with those two around, but he was good enough to sacrifice a little offense in order to make the team better. That makes him a bit underrated in most circles, even though he's in the Basketball Hall of Fame and was ranked as one of the top 75 players in NBA history. Parish went on to win three titles in Boston, and fans of that era certainly will be interested to read about the legendary battles with the Los Angeles Lakers (or as Parish calls them throughout the book, the Fakers).

It was particularly fun to read about his time with Bill Walton, as the two teamed up for a one-two combination at center on the 1985-86 team one of the greatest of all time. Their philosophies on the court meshed quite nicely, and Walton is always an interesting subject.  

Parish was the last man from that Celtics' dynasty to leave Boston, and he didn't even retire at that point. He spent a couple of years in Charlotte and one in Chicago as a reserve, adding a veteran presence to both teams. As a bonus, that last season gave him a fourth ring, thanks to Michael Jordan and Company.

It's a little difficult to figure out what Parish has been doing for the last 30 years. OK, he has done a little coaching, and worked on some basketball-related projects with various organizations. Mostly, it sounds like he's simply enjoying retirement. Nothing wrong with that. 

Parish has some moments here of surprising honesty in recapping his life. For example, he played with Larry Johnson and Alonzo Mourning in Charlotte, and he thinks they are Exhibit A on how stars shouldn't not get along on the court. Robert also was willing to talk back to Jordan during workouts, which probably put him in the minority of mankind. 

There are some odd moments along the way here. Yes, he's been a big fan of marijuana for some time, and everyone in the NBA seemed to know it. Parish gives his side of the story about an assault complaint involving his ex-wife. He admits to pushing her; charges were never filed and the case was wrapped into a divorce settlement. 

Robert writes about his four children from three different mothers, which if nothing else must make certain holidays a bit hectic. Well, all families are different in their own ways. And while Parish sometimes apologizes for the use of profanity in advance here and in life, he's not too shy about cutting loose here. Well, the kiddies probably won't be interested in learning about someone who played in ancient times, relatively speaking. 

This is a pretty breezy effort, which can be covered in a day or two. Parish does come off quite well in the basketball sense - someone who played the game the right way and was willing to sacrifice individual achievements in favor of the team. The book is filled out by favorite comments supplied by friends/foes from his playing days. 

Add it up, and there aren't a great many surprises in "The Chief." If you enjoy reading stories about one of pro basketball's most interesting eras, this will leave you satisfied. 

Three stars

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Review: The Texas Rangers and Me (2026)

By T.R. Sullivan

It's difficult to say what comes to mind when trying to sum up the history of Texas Rangers in a few words. The Rangers arrived from Washington in 1972, where the team usually had perennial losers. You may have heard of the phrase "Washington - first in war, first in peace, last in the American League." The Senators only won one World Series title, and it took four innings of relief from Walter Johnson in Game Seven (after he threw a complete game in Game Five) to wrap up the title. The franchise moved to Minnesota in 1961, only to be replaced by an expansion team - which meant more years of losing. 

The Senators gave up on Washington and tried their luck in the Dallas/Fort Worth area in 1972, and things weren't much better. But eventually the Rangers figured out how to be good occasionally, which to be fair is about all anyone can ask of teams these days. 

T.R. Sullivan wasn't around for every pitch in the Texas days for the team, but the reporter gave his best shot. He covered the Rangers for a newspaper and a website from 1989 until 2020. A 32-year run is pretty good in this business. Now he takes a look back at the franchise through some ugly lows and a few highs in "The Texas Rangers and Me."  

It takes some time to go through 32 years, and Sullivan launches through 38 chapters to review his career. The Rangers haven't had that many employees who might move the needle nationally. Alex Rodriguez, Nolan Ryan, Iven "Pudge" Rodriquez, and Bobby Valentine might be the  only ones who qualify there. He had more than his share of characters and personalities, though. Pete Incaviglia, Ivan Rodriquez, Kenny Rogers, Josh Hamilton, Yu Darvish, and Ron Washington probably belong on that list - for very different reasons. Some of the others that come up along the way will test the memory banks of all but the most devoted Rangers fans. 

Sullivan does plenty of historical analysis of what went right and what went wrong. As far as I can tell from long distance, he is quite good at it. I'm sure his stories were extremely solid - to pay a nice compliment from someone else in the business. Texas had a two-year run to the World Series, falling in a particularly crushing manner in 2011 when the team was one strike away a few times from wrapping up that championship. The Rangers would have to wait until 2023 before getting that final out, but it came after Sullivan had retired. I'd bet he would have liked to have written about that moment at the time.

The book comes with a few couple of issues. The writing approach means that certain names will pop up more than once in the text, and background information gets repeated fairly often. It's almost as if the chapters are self-contained, and the repetition is at best distracting. 

More importantly, Sullivan rarely puts himself into the story. In other words, there are a few tales about behind-the-scenes incidents and the obtaining of information, but not too many.  More such moments - including the strain on the family - would have been nice. It would have been interesting to know how the author adapted when he switched from working for a newspaper to MLB.com. I'll throw in that there isn't much humor here, which is too bad. Veteran reporters usually have a zillion good stories to tell about life on the job.

It's easy to guess that a more personal approach might have made this a more enjoyable read to a wider audience. Even so, "The Texas Rangers and Me" ought to hit its target audience of baseball fans in that part of the world quite nicely. 

Three stars

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Review: Why So Serious? (2024)

By Mike Singer

Almost every rabid basketball fan, regardless of "affiliation," loves to watch Nikola Jokic. It's because he is such a unique player. 

The Denver Nuggets' superstar starts by being 6-foot-11 and 284 pounds ... although it's safe to say that last number has varied over the years. Yet his skill set is completely different than the stereotype of the position. 

Not only does Jokic like to pass the ball more than most big men, but he's creative at it. He might be the best passing big man ever. If one of his teammates is open, Jokic will figure out a way to get him the ball - no matter where that teammate on the court. If it takes a looping, cross-court, diagonal pass to get a good shot, he will figure out a way to do it. 

The Denver center has a wide range of shot techniques, inside and outside. Nikola has a little hop step on his outside shots that is usually unexpected, and effective. If the team needs to bring the ball upcourt due to some matchup problems, well, Jokic can do that too. Add it up, and he's probably the first- or second-most enjoyable player in the NBA to watch - depending on whether Steph Curry is shooting the ball well on a given night. 

Where did this odd collection of talent come from? How was it developed? What does it do for a team?

That, in a sense, is why Mike Singer wrote this book. The former newspaper reporter from Denver takes a good-sized dive into Jokic's life in "Why So Serious?" By the way, the book's title is based on Jokic's nickname of "The Joker," and it also matches nicely with his personality. 

Jokic grew up in Serbia in an athletic family. He had a couple of brothers who played basketball too, and it sounds like they were tough on their "little brother" while watching out for him. Nikola slowly moved up the ladder in the club system of that country. He certainly was a prospect, but it was tough to gauge what his ceiling might be. That was partly because it's a big and relatively unconventional step from Serbia to the NBA. It's also fair to say that Jokic liked to have a good time, and wasn't too concerned as a youngster about nutrition and conditioning. 

But the big man eventually built up a basketball support system around him, and he figured out what he needed to do to improve ... and did it. The short version of the story is that he was good enough to be a second-round draft choice of the Nuggets in 2014, when he was only 19 years old. Denver's front office thought he could develop into something, but you never know about such things. 

Sure enough, Jokic didn't need a great deal of time to improve after spending an extra year in Europe. He averaged 10 points a game in limited action as a rookie in 1985-86, and became a focal point of the team by 2018 or so. Nikola took a giant step forward in 2020-21, averaging 26.4 points per game. Jokic has won three MVP trophies in his career - the only second-round draft pick to win even one of them - and managed to be the league leader in rebounds and assists in 2025-26.

Along the way, of course, the center led the Nuggets to their only NBA championship in 2024. He hasn't been able to repeat that accomplishment yet, but Denver always will have a chance while Jokic is playing top-flight basketball.

Singer made one decision about writing this book right away. He has a lot of chapters in it. There are 95 of them, not including an introduction, epilogue and acknowledgments. I think that's a record for a book under 400 pages. 

Jokic comes off really, really well here. Admittedly, there's not much to criticize in his basketball career to date. But books written in the middle of someone's career usually are like that. We usually need some time after retirement to put things in perspective. Sometimes that's done by an author, and sometimes that's done by a subject him with some help. We'll see. 

For those who try not to miss Jokic's games whenever possible, "Why So Serious?" no doubt will work quite nicely. It covers the highlights and gives some details about the formative years and the glory days. It's probably not anything more satisfying than that; we'll have to wait a while to put some more pieces together. 

Three stars

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Review: Checkmate (2026)

By Ben Mezrich

If you haven't paid much attention to chess in the last several years, you've missed a lot. That's the underlying theme of the book, "Checkmate," which takes a look at this popular game and a famous incident from a few years ago.   

Chess always has a bit of an interesting niche in the world of sports and games. Play it reasonably well and people assume a degree of intelligence. Play it really well and people mix admiration with some questions about your motives. It takes a great deal of study to become a great player, and that single-mindedness can be a a red flag.

Chess had a peak of interest around these parts in the early 1970s when Bobby Fischer became the world champion. It didn't hurt that Fischer was American and thus appealed to United States players who become a little tired of the Soviets dominating the list of world champions. The problem was that Fischer had a variety of personality problems, and was about the last person you'd want to take the game forward. He eventually self-destructed.

Fast forward to the computer age. People wondered for quite a while if machines could ever beat human beings in chess. At one point, humans were said to have an edge at creativity and thus could figure out a way to win. But the machines got smarter and better. In 1996, Big Blue from IBM knocked off champion Garry Kasparov in a close match. It was something of a signal of what was to come. Soon everyone realized that humans would never win such matches in the future. 

But that didn't mean that humans couldn't put their own spin on the revolution. They used the computer programs as teachers, and improved their games. They played on-line against fellow chess lovers, who used to have to find a chess club nearby in order to find opponents. And when the 2020 pandemic arrived and kept everyone inside, chess turned out to be a good distraction for many. Chess internet sites, most notably Chess.com, exploded in membership ... and, naturally, value. (That plays a part in the story to come.)

The downside of this evolution is that it became easier to cheat. All you needed to gain a helping hand in a match is another computer program that could make suggestions. The chess websites try to police that sort of cheating, mostly by looking for clues that a player is doing far better than he should be according to a rating system. It's left everyone feeling a little paranoid, including those who are still playing chess in person. 

That all brings us to the story of Hans Niemann, who is at the center of the book. He was one of the world's top young players in the early 2020s, although he had confessed to cheating at times on line early in his career. Niemann, who had a little Fischer in him, had a match against world champion Magnus Carlsen in a competitive in St. Louis. Unexpectedly, Niemann drilled him - handing him an emphatic defeat even while using the black pieces (considered a small disadvantage).

Even world champions lose once in a while - it happens - but Carlsen was suspicious. He didn't think Niemann was good enough to play at such a high level for an entire game. Carlsen came away thinking that Niemann somehow cheated, and at first hinted those believes in public. That caused quite a sensation by chess standards. Throw in some inflammatory interviews by all sides and some legal actions, and you have a mess. 

Author Ben Mezrich takes something of a step-by-step approach to the story, which might be new territory to many readers who missed the incident when it came out.  He has good access to everyone involved, and no one comes out of this unharmed when events finally settled down. It takes quite a while to rebuild a reputation. 

Mezrich sometimes goes a little over the top with the techniques of narrative nonfiction. The story has plenty of drama on its own, and it usually doesn't need much sweetening to make it interesting. It's easy to wonder if the author was thinking again about how to make this story ready-make for a movie. He did that in a book that was turned into the motion picture "The Social Network," and at the end Mezrich does say that this book would make for a good movie. I admittedly take things from more of a journalism angle that entertaining, although I'm willing to say that his presentation keeps the story moving along nicely. 

I also found myself wondering if Carlsen would have been better off shutting up instead of blowing up the atmosphere with a belief about Niemann that he was unable to easily prove. Well, too late for that. 

"Checkmate" is at its best when taking a look at an activity that changed a lot in recent years, even if the pawns are still moving one square at a time like they have been for hundreds of years. An interest in the subject is all that's needed to find this book interesting. 

(Footnote: I just noticed that Netflix has a documentary available on this episode of chess history. Might have to check that out at some point.) 

Four stars

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Review: Goodbye, Oakland (2025)

By Andy Dolich and Dave Newhouse

The story about how a guy from Buffalo even came across this book is an odd one, if you'll pardon some city-dropping.

I was recently in Athens on vacation. Down in the basement, next to a temporary breakfast area (the place was remodeling), was one of those libraries where visitors were welcome to take a book and/or leave a book. About three-quarters of the selections were in the Greek language, which certainly sped up the skimming process. 

But there were some English-language books, and I noticed a book called "Goodbye, Oakland." Even better, one of the authors was veteran newspaper reporter Dave Newhouse. Ever since I had dinner with Dave in a small group the night before Super Bowl XVIII in Tampa, I've been a fan of his. Therefore, it was an easy call to pick one up and read it. 

Good decision. This is a well-done look around the sporting scene in Oakland - past, present, and future. 

These are tough times in the other city by the bay in Northern California. It may not have hit people who don't live in the region that Oakland is having a very tough stretch when it comes to sports teams. The Raiders packed and left for Las Vegas, and the Warriors packed and left for San Francisco (a lesser tragedy perhaps because of the short distance, but still painful to many). When this book was originally written in 2023, the future of the Athletics was at best up in the air. 

But now we know that the A's are at least planning to end up in Las Vegas as well. The team is playing in a minor-league stadium in Sacramento for the time being. No one seems to know how long "the time being" will last. Construction supposedly has started on the new place, but there's said to be a funding gap on how to come up with $2 billion for it. You'd think that would have been figured out before the steam-shovels arrived. 

With the Athletics' departure from Oakland now in the books, it seems, authors Andy Dolich (a former sports team executive in the Bay Area) and Newhouse provide some updates in a 2025 edition on what the situation was and review what happened. The triple move is not a happy story for the natives of course, and the authors are quite angry over it all. 

At one point in history, Oakland was something like the promised land for pro sports. It entered the game when the Raiders were admitted in the American Football League in 1960. It took some time, but eventually the team thrived. Charlie Finley took his baseball team from Kansas City to Oakland for the 1968 season, and the Warriors actually moved from San Francisco to Oakland in pursuit of a better home in 1971. All won championships in Oakland. To see the city's entire major-league history come to such an abrupt end within a short period of time is rather painful. 

The book really gets off to a great start with stories about the teams and personalities in the old days, particularly when it comes to Davis and Finley. There's little objectivity here, understandable under the circumstances. Davis moved the Raiders out of Oakland twice over the years - you'd think once was enough - and Finley ranks as one of the truly odd personalities in sports ownership history 

Eventually, Dolich and Newhouse get to a series of profiles about some of the major personalities of this era. For the out-of-town reader, some of them are going to be a bit more relevant than others. Names like Franklin Mieuli, Dave Stewart, Jim Otto, Rick Barry, Tony LaRussa, and Billy Martin are given an in-depth look, and we know enough background information to make them enjoyable. A few others who receive chapters are more local celebrities, such as a junior college football coach and a local baseball instructor. Those don't work quite as well when read from a distance, although they do add a bit of "on the ground" perspective. Those stories are mixed in with comments from fans, politicians, urban studies experts, etc. Even some Las Vegas residents get to express an opinion on the twin moves of the Raiders and A's to their city.

The politics and legalities of the moves themselves are particularly difficult to explain, even in hindsight in some cases. Meanwhile, it's also not easy to rewrite a book on the fly, and some of the wording along the way has become a little choppy. 

The important point, though, is that "Goodbye, Oakland" gets the point across that the California city has received a raw deal over the years. Will it ever get a second chance at "major-league status?" Hard to say. But it's easy to root for the city going forward, based on what is contained in the book.

Four stars

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