After writing 32 books, there isn’t much John Feinstein hasn’t done on the publishing front. But he got a first the other day: A review from a current MLB player.

Oakland A’s outfielder Sam Fuld critiqued Feinstein’s latest, Where Nobody Knows Your Name, for the Wall Street Journal. The book chronicles the difficult, frustrating and even heartbreaking life for several players, managers and even an umpire at Triple A in 2012. Veterans like Scott Podsednik and Brett Tomko are just trying to hang on, while others still are seeking to take that ultimate step to the big leagues.

Fuld actually is in Feinstein’s book. Feinstein talked to the outfielder while he was on rehab assignment.

Just imagine if Bob Knight was asked to write a review of Feinstein’s first book, Season on the Brink. Now that would have been some good reading.

Coming soon, I will have a Q/A with Feinstein. But first, here is Fuld’s assessment.

Fuld writes:

In the summer of 2012, I was in Durham, N.C., playing for the Durham Bulls, the AAA minor league affiliate of the Tampa Bay Rays (and the focal point of everyone’s favorite minor-league baseball movie, “Bull Durham”). I was there only to rehab after having wrist surgery, and I knew I’d be called up to the major leagues as soon as I was ready.

So when I was asked by the sportswriter John Feinstein to interview for a book on minor-league baseball, I initially balked. I was insulted. Didn’t he know that I had spent all of the previous year in the big leagues? But I soon floated back down to earth and agreed. I was only two years removed from playing nearly an entire season in AAA. I had spent parts of seven seasons overall toiling in the “bush leagues.” And I knew that in all likelihood I’d someday be a minor leaguer once again.

Later Fuld writes:

I breezed through the 350-page book as fast as a father of three little kids possibly could. Part of it was the name recognition and learning about guys I’d only known from across the dugout. But more than that, I was propelled by the emotions and memories that Mr. Feinstein’s vivid portraits stirred up. The stories of big-league call-ups took me back to Zebulon, N.C., in 2007. We had just finished our last regular season game, and I stood in the shower, celebratory beer in hand, when my trainer beckoned me. “Now?” I asked, confused. “Yes,” he said with his eyes. I stepped outside the shed/clubhouse and took my trainer’s cellphone. With a towel around my waist and shampoo lather in my hair, I listened to my manager say that I’d be playing in Wrigley Field the next day. A teammate stripped my towel away, leaving me naked in front of a few autograph seekers. It could have been a few thousand, and I wouldn’t have cared: I was going to the show.

Fuld concludes:

Within the scope of AAA baseball, Mr. Feinstein does a decent job of painting accurate, compelling stories, though they come with a few flaws. He claims Mr. Tomko “fractured the biceps muscle in his shoulder,” which sounds painful and almost impossible. He places the AAA Cubs in Iowa City, where there is no team, rather than Des Moines. And the Sabermetrician in me couldn’t help but note every time Mr. Feinstein referenced primitive metrics like RBIs and win-loss record.

But his book offers plenty of poignant moments and sound information. Last year marked the 25th anniversary of “Bull Durham,” and I’m pretty sure a lot of people still think that’s how things go in the minors. Mr. Feinstein clears the perspective on the realities of minor-league life so that the reader can move on from Nuke LaLoosh imagery. And for the average baseball fan, this is no minor accomplishment.