Jose Canseco called out a number of former teammates in his book, including three with the Devil Rays. Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

The circus came into town Wednesday, but it was more Barnes & Noble than Barnum & Bailey. Dressed in a button-down beige shirt and slacks, the tanned ringleader smiled for the cameras and hammed it up with the media.

Jose Canseco was in his element. Surrounded by four earpiece-wearing bodyguards, he was back where he felt he always belonged -- in the spotlight. It was a surreal sight. The only thing missing was ALF, Punky Brewster and the crew from VH1's I Love the '80s. There Canseco sat in a warm Rockefeller Center bookstore, as a line of fans holding his new book, Juiced: Wild Times, Rampant 'Roids, Smash Hits and How Baseball Got Big, formed outside the door and stretched for about a block.

There certainly are some truths in Canseco's book. He did play for the Oakland A's and he did win the AL MVP in 1988, but it's hard to distinguish the facts from the barrage of inaccuracies. Like a witness on trial who tells the truth one moment and then lies the next, it's almost impossible for anyone to take anything they say seriously.

Throughout the book, Canseco talks about racism in baseball and how he "was very aware that baseball was closed to a young Latino like me" and that the barriers to breaking into the major leagues were almost impossible for Latinos to get around. It almost reads as if Canseco were the Jackie Robinson of Latino players before you realize that there were 442 who had been in the big leagues before Canseco's rookie season in 1985, including Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente, Martin Dihigo, Juan Marichal and Luis Aparicio.

Canseco also talks about racism and hypocrisy in the "white media" that covered him during his career, but comes off as the biggest hypocrite of all. He vents about a column in The Washington Post that was written by Thomas Boswell in 1988 that accused Canseco of using steroids. He claims Boswell had no proof of his accusations (sound familiar?) and that his column cost Canseco a $1 million endorsement with Pepsi. "I wanted to sue Boswell, but in the end, it just didn't seem worth my time," Canseco wrote. Um, yeah, and also, you admitted to using steroids, Jose. But I'm guessing the fact that he's bragging about it and accusing others of doing the same without providing evidence is making up for that Pepsi deal that probably went to MC Hammer.

It is also interesting to note that there is no ghostwriter or editor credited in the book, although the fact that none wanted to take credit for such a train wreck is understandable. While the book is based on the personal experiences of Canseco, his credibility is shot as he constantly gives wrong facts and stats, and bases many of his accusations on hearsay.

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His inaccuracies are highlighted by his memories of Game 6 of the 2000 World Series (the Yankees beat the Mets in five games), bragging about hitting a home run in every American League ballpark as a rookie (he didn't homer in Detroit or Kansas City) and recalling a conversation about steroids he had with Bret Boone after hitting a double during the 2001 spring training that Boone says never took place, and probably didn't since Canseco never got made it to second against the Mariners that spring.

Canseco has been threatening to release this book back since May 14, 2002 when he retired from baseball. But despite having close to three years to work on the book, Juiced, much like Canseco, is overdone, overhyped, over-everything. It certainly isn't the worst book ever, but it is in the realm of Battlefield Earth in terms of sports books.

It does have some endearing moments. For example, growing up, Canseco made a deal with his father where he would get $5 for every homer he hit -- a deal they kept even after Canseco made the majors. Most of the book, however, reads like the memoirs of a bitter man hoping to bring down as many of his peers as he can and the game that made him rich.

It's hard to read Canseco's recollection of events and not picture a broken-down old man at the end of the bar bragging that he had done this and that and would have been the greatest of all time but was brought down by "the man."

After appearing on every television outlet from 60 Minutes to Cold Pizza, Canseco has begun his book tour and may soon be appearing at a Sam's Club or Costco near you. On this day, Canseco sat behind a table in a closed-off area wearing tinted glasses and signing books for the people he dedicated the book to: his fans, who he writes, "deserve to know the truth."

That "truth," however, may not be taken seriously as long as Canseco continues to shade it with lies and rumors. Then again, after auctioning off time with him while he was under house arrest and selling his 2000 World Series ring on his Web site, I'm not sure if Canseco even takes himself seriously anymore.