How to Train with a T. Rex and Win 8 Gold Medals
Michael Phelps and Alan Abrahamson (Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing, $17.99)
In the interest of full disclosure, let me say upfront that I really wanted to make fun of Michael Phelps' new children's book, How to Train with a T. Rex and Win Eight Gold Medals.
I wanted to make a bunch of jokes about a cartoon version of Phelps telling a cartoon Ms. California that everyone deserves the right to get married, and reminding kids that cell phone cameras will be confiscated every time he and his cartoon posse walk into a room.
But the truth is - and maybe this is the result of having a kid of my own on the way - I kind of liked it. There isn't exactly a narrative there, and the inclusion of a Tyrannosaurus Rex makes very little sense, even in the illogical world of children's books. But it has a nice message and some cool illustrations by Ward Jenkins.
I don't even have the heart to make a wisecrack about its lack of strippers. Perhaps because I'm as familiar with the Phelps story as anyone - having covered him for the last four years for The Baltimore Sun - I enjoyed this book more than his actual autobiography, also co-written by former Los Angeles Times reporter Alan Abrahamson.
Children's books are a tricky road to navigate for professional athletes, especially when their personal lives are tabloid fodder. Kids do look up to them, and parents expect them to act as role models because of this. But at the same time, 23-year-old men of considerable wealth and fame generally do not behave like saints.
It always annoys me the way Olympic athletes - Phelps in particular - are marketed as if they're a blend of virtue and patriotism. They're held to unrealistic standards because they're supposed to represent an all-American ideal - the humble kid who works hard, drinks nothing but milk and loves his mom - when in reality, they're human beings with flaws and desires, just like the rest of us. Far too often, then, children's books by professional athletes seem more like a calculated PR maneuver, a way to reconnect with the fan base and polish an image tarnished by a public misstep. You can decide for yourself whether that's the case here.
