I woke up with a smile on my face every morning during the two or three days I spent reading "His Ownself." It's a casual and sly sportswriter's memoir, albeit with a few egregious missteps that I'll get to, one of those books that reminds you that good stories happen only to people who can tell them.
Mr. Jenkins has had, in his recounting, a busy, lucky and friend-filled life. If he tends to boil everything and everyone down to an anecdote, as if he were preparing to be the keynote speaker at the Great Sports Banquet in the Sky, well, at 84, he's allowed. And his material isn't bad at all.