I originally read this as a young teenager, when I was a huge fan of Rodman and the Chicago Bulls. I was truly in awe of him being the outcast of the NBA. Back then, I would've easily given this book 4 or 5 stars. However, now, at age 31, as I reread it, I realize that as much as I admired Rodman then, it paled in comparison to how much he admired himself when he wrote this.
I was quickly annoyed by his constant elevation of himself above the other players. He seemed to insinuate that basketball couldn't even survive without him. It was quite irritating. The most frustrating part was his incessant complaining about his salary. He was making a measly 3 million a year, which, according to him, was nowhere near what he was worth. But the fact is, he didn't really become a huge star mostly until after the time frame of this book.
If you're still a die-hard fan of Rodman, this book could potentially be very enjoyable for you. However, if not, there are probably many other much more satisfying reads out there that would better capture your interest and provide a more fulfilling reading experience.