We specialize in hard to find items
All Categories
A Farewell to Arms, Legs, and Jockstraps: A Sportswriter's Memoir
Share Tweet
*Price and Stocks may change without prior notice
*Packaging of actual item may differ from photo shown
- Electrical items MAY be 110 volts.
- 7 Day Return Policy
- All products are genuine and original
About A Farewell To Arms, Legs, And Jockstraps: A
Product Description Strike fast, strike hard―whether it's scoring a homerun or front-page news, Diane K. Shah, former sports columnist, knows how to grab the best story. In her memoir A Farewell to Arms, Legs, and Jockstraps, follow Diane's escapades, from interviews with a tipsy Mickey Mantle, to sneaking into off-limits Republican galas, dining with Frank Sinatra, flying a plane with Dennis Quaid, and countless other adventures where she wields her tape recorder and a tireless drive for more. From skirting KGB agents while covering the Cold War Olympics to hunting down the three mechanical sharks starring in Jaws, Diane's experiences are filled with real heart and a tongue-in-cheek attitude. An insightful look into the difficulties of navigating a male-dominated profession, A Farewell to Arms, Legs, and Jockstraps offers rich retellings and behind-the-scenes details of stories of a trail-blazing career and the prejudices facing female sportswriters during the 60s and 70s. Review Former sportswriter Shah hilariously chronicles her experiences in the good old boys' world of sports reporting beginning in the late 1960s with the National Observer....Eventually, Shah became "just one of the guys" while blazing a trail for female sports reporters. Shah's earnest and witty memoir serves as an astute look into the world of sports journalism. ― Publishers Weekly Review For young journalists, (particularly women) this is how their paths were blazed. For the rest of us, an insight into how one of the great writers of her generation uniquely saw the world she covered with her gift of the written word. -- Charley Steiner, Radio Voice/ Los Angeles Dodgers. About the Author Diane K. Shah is a former journalist and the first female sports columnist for a major daily newspaper. During her career she has written for The New York Times, Newsweek, GQ, Playboy, and Esquire. She is the author of four mystery novels and author (with Daryl Gates) of Chief: My Life in the LAPD, a New York Times bestseller, and Relentless, photographer Neil Leifer's memoir. She lives in New York City. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Call Me "Tolerated"I was early, obviously.Through the open ballroom doors, I could see a handful of men seated at round banquet tables covered with starched white cloths. I consulted my watch again. 6:03 p.m. I had checked into the hotel maybe an hour before and, after dropping off my suitcase in my room, rode the elevator down to the second floor to pick up my credentials. There had been a bit of a fuss when I had phoned a week earlier to request them. The man I spoke to had put me on hold, presumably to consult a higher authority, then finally came back on the line and said, "hell, why not?" Even so, I worried they might give me a hard time when I showed up. I was wrong. I was handed my credentials for the All-Star Game and told, with a chuckle, "Well, this is a first." The man then gave me a goody bag. I carried it to the lobby and sat down, hoping to see a familiar face, someone I could have dinner with. The thought of eating a room-service meal by myself was depressing. I opened the goody bag and began pawing through it. The contents made me smile. A Gillette razor, a pack of razor blades, a tie-pin, men's deodorant, a pen and . . . wait, what was this? A square, sealed envelope. I tore it open. Inside, was an invitation to a dinner that evening for sportswriters and the baseball players selected for the game to be played the next night. Salvation! No room-service meal after all, I thought I re-read the invitation. The dinner was called for 6 p.m. I checked my watch. It was 5:45. I hurried back to my room and grabbed a reporter's notebook. This would be fun! I could chat with other sportswriters, meet some ballplayers and maybe extract a colorful quote or two. Pausing in front of the mirror, I ran a comb through my long, dark hair, applied pink lipstick and studied the navy cotton dress I
