Brown's book is about what it is to be a backup catcher, both in terms of what sort of jobs you're expected to fill, how one finds themselves in the role of backup catcher, what sort of life tends to result from that designation, and the mindset one can develop if they embrace the job.
His primary window into the world is Erik Kratz, who played for 9 major league teams over 11 seasons. It's kind of crazy to me that over the course of his career, I only attended 9 baseball games, and he was the starting catcher in 2 of them. I saw 8 of his 951 career plate appearances (he went 0-for-8.) Kratz played for a lot more than 9 minor league teams, and between being sent up, down, released, traded, waived, and so on, switched teams more than 3 dozen times before he retired at the end of the 2020 season.
But that's part of the life of the backup catcher. Teams like to have you around for all the little things you do, until they decide someone who can do the big things is more important to have. Then you're looking for another job. Kratz tends to remain pretty upbeat, but doesn't sugarcoat the times he questioned what he was doing, hanging on in the minors, or when he got frustrated that what looked like a chance to stick somewhere evaporated again.
Brown tends to focus on a certain aspect of the job or process in a given chapter, speaking with Kratz or any number of other backup catchers, past and present. For example, what it means to become a starter's "personal" catcher, as Eddie Perez was for Greg Maddux for a time. Or even just what your job is a catcher with regards to your pitcher. Sometimes you have to be almost like a parent, other times you have to challenge him. Brown relates a story where Yankees' catcher John Flaherty went out to the mound to tell Randy Johnson not to ever show him up by yelling at him about where he set his stance, during a game. Or the work backups put in helping pitchers warm-up before games or in the bullpen. How exhausting that can be, but you do it because someone has to, so why not you?
Other times, it's focused more off the field. The grind for Kratz and his wife Sarah, as they have to constantly move. Find new apartments, set up electric and phone service, break current leases, scramble to cover rent (minor leaguers get paid basically dick.) The jobs they work in the off-season, the way Kratz carves out any time he can after a full day of construction work to take some practice swings.
Despite that, the tone of the book is light. The guys Brown talks to all made peace with the roles they ended up with. All of them would have loved to be the starting catcher, but whether due to talent deficit, lack of opportunity, or just bad luck, it didn't happen. But they found something they could do, and they tried to do it the best they could and most of them found a sort of peace with that, in the good days. Brown details all the little things the backup does to help the team, the unglamorous stuff, but in a way that makes the backup catcher seem like the man behind the curtain, rather than the unappreciated janitor.
'What comes of this is a league - a culture, even - of backup catchers reasonably sure they could be No. 1 catchers, but who are rigorously invested in the day in front of them. Most would defend their jobs, their teammates, and the final score with the thick end of a fungo bat. As soon as they go get it. It's in the blue bag up in the dugout tunnel. Which they know because they put it there after batting practice. When they helped clean up the field. Just to be helpful. It wasn't gonna pick itself up.'
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