HOW THE GAME OF FOOTBALL WAS INVENTED BY THE VIKINGS

by - Janson Mancheski
 
The Vikings were the first Euros to discover America. They sailed across the North Sea and Atlantic Ocean in their long boats, landed in Nova Scotia, and moved all the way inland to Minnesota. It was there that they first began playing soccer with a pig's bladder. Then the ancestors of Bud Grant picked up the bladder one day and ran with it to steal it, hoping for an easy lunch, and the other players tried to tackle them. When the thieves of the bladder were tackled, the Vikings' giant rally horns blew on the sidelines, and on that fateful day the game of football was invented.

Update on THE SCRUB. A YA novel set in Green Bay.

Author's note: Six months ago, before I decided upon a publisher, I submitted my new novel THE SCRUB for editorial analysis at Kirkus Reviews. Let it be known that the following is not the actual published review, but merely the literary conclusions by one of Kirkus' senior editors.

I should add here that I don't consider publishing this review as in need of a "spoiler alert!" It simply supplies a summation of the writing style and a few major plot points, i.e. what the story is about. It's not anything a reader wouldn't be able to discern by reading the back cover text on the novel.

However, to those who don't want to know too much before reading a story, then please stop here!

For the rest of you choosing to read on, needless to say, I was quite pleased with the editor's assessment.

KIRKUS EDITORIALS

  

Title: The Scrub

Author: Janson Mancheski

References: The Chicago Manual of Style 16th Edition and Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary 11th Edition.

I was enormously impressed with this. It’s a masterful job in virtually every respect. The novel is skillfully plotted, the characters have real depth, and the ambience is amazingly authentic. The story is continuously suspenseful, but it also packs a powerful emotional punch.  

The manuscript is also quite polished. My edits are minimal. Beyond catching the occasional typo and missing word, and supplying some missing commas, I’ve suggested some small cuts, fiddled with some punctuation issues, and raised a few minor plot points.  

Structure and Pacing:

The plot structure looks flawless. The narrative builds steadily as we follow young football QB Janus Mann through an emotionally turbulent few weeks in the fall of his senior year at Green Bay’s East High, with all events leading up to the great moment of truth at the end—the team’s big game against what looks to be an unbeatable rival. You narrate that game with great skill. It had me on the edge of my seat, and I can only assume it will have that effect on any reader. 

The subplots are beautifully woven into the overall narrative fabric and skillfully resolved. They include Janus’s complicated relationships with: his girlfriend Asha and her alcoholic has-been of a father, Sam; his short-tempered coach, Ray Grayna; his best friend, Barnaby Grayna, who suffers from ALS; his nemesis, Kroll the Troll; and his widowed mom. And finally, of course, there’s his relationship with the ghost of the founder of the Green Bay Packers, Curly Lambeau. And this last relationship is inspired! It adds a genuinely magical dimension to the story.

A few minor points: 

Characterization:

All the characters are strong, without exception. I have nothing to suggest here beyond the comments made above.

Dialogue:

Your dialogue is absolutely first-rate. You have an exceptional ear for it. You give every major character his or her own distinct voice, and that goes a long way in adding depth and dimension to their personalities. You also do amazingly well capturing the personality and thinking processes of your seventeen-year-old protagonist, Janus, in his first-person narration. We were all young once, I guess, but you really manage to bring Janus alive on the page with an authenticity that is rare in any novel, YA or what have you. 

Grammar and Style:

Your narrative style works well. Janus’s voice, with all its teenage angst, eagerness, playfulness, uncertainty, naiveté, rebelliousness, and sense of mischief, comes through vividly. The narration brilliantly reflects the teenage mind at work, by turns informal, emotional, thoughtful, joyful, sad, uncertain, disjointed, hyperbolic, self-deprecatory, and boastful. So there are many sentence fragments, and thoughts or feelings expressed in a sometimes-cryptic shorthand, with words left out. I have done my best to preserve this style, because it works, but I have also reworked the text in places where some needed linkages or rearrangements were needed for clarity or to avoid awkwardness. 

I really enjoyed working on this, and I wish you great success with it. There is certainly a readership out there for it. 

I look forward to our phone consultation.

Best,

Tom, Editor

Al Mancheski  Obit - by Janson Mancheski

ALVIN MANCHESKI, HALL OF FAME FOOTBALL COACH, IS DEAD

Alvin “Doctor Al” Mancheski, the football coach who built winning programs at Sturgeon Bay High School in the 1950s, then at Green Bay East in the 1960s, passed away peacefully in his sleep Wednesday night at his home in Green Bay, Wisconsin. 

Dr. Mancheski (a former optometrist, as well as a high school teacher, wrestling, baseball and football coach), was 96 years old, and had been in failing health for the past six months. 

Born in nearby Denmark Wisconsin on February 23, 1921, the Mancheski family moved to Green Bay when Al was ten. Like East High’s Curly Lambeau before him, if there was one word that would summarize the next 50 years of his life, that word would be “Football.” Al became an outstanding athlete at East High in the late 1930s and 1940, where he was all-conference running back in both his junior and senior years, leading the Fox River Valley conference in rushing. He played under legendary East High and former Packers’ top assistant coach Tom Hearden, whom he viewed as both a mentor and substitute father figure.

Besides playing football, Al lettered in baseball and was an outstanding basketball player. He was also a champion pole vaulter and placed second at the 1940 Wisconsin state high school track meet. Al went on to attend the University of Wisconsin, where his football coach was the former quarterback of Notre Dame’s fabled Four Horsemen, Harry Stuhldreher. When World War II broke out, Al joined the Army Air Corps, and spent most of the time in the Pacific Theater as a medic and physician’s surgical assistant. Back from the war in 1946, Al was named the most valuable player on the Badgers’ newly-formed JV squad. He joined Coach Stuhldreher’s Wisconsin football staff in 1947. Al’s coaching lineage was notable now, with two Hall of Fame coaches (Hearden and Stuhldreher) having served as his mentors. It was time for Coach Al to head a program of his own.

Using his apprenticeships at Wisconsin as a springboard, Al was hired as head coach of the Sturgeon Bay Clippers in 1948. He found immediate success, winning conference championships in '48 and 1950. Along the way, Al also coached wrestling and baseball, while teaching chemistry and physical education at the high school.  

But Al decided to leave coaching football when the GI bill offered him a chance to return to school. His service record as an Army medic gave him impetus toward the medical field. Al had been accepted to medical school at UW-Madison but lacked a single required course in either Spanish, French, or Latin. Even though Al spoke fluent Polish, he was turned down for entry. Thus Al enrolled at Illinois College of Optometry in Chicago, and graduated with an Doctor of Optometry degree two years later.


Moving back to Green Bay, Al signed on as an assistant football coach with Green Bay Catholic Central, under the outstanding tutilidge of Head Coach Ted Fritsch. Ted was a former Hall of Fame fullback for the Green Bay Packers, and local football legend. Al and Ted became close friends and Al was quick to learn a number of new tricks from another master of the game. Ted had played the bulk of his career under Curly Lambeau, and was known as a clever and savvy football mind. Yet after his stint at Catholic Central, Al still longed to run his own program. He jumped at the chance, one year later, to return to the Sturgeon Bay Clippers.

Almost immediately, Al was able to rekindle the success the Clippers had experienced during his first stint with the program. They steadily regained their winning traction and finally became dominant in their final three seasons. Al's teams at Sturgeon Bay won championships in 1948 – 50, and 1958 – 59, at one point going 20 – 1.

Now it was time for Al to take on an even larger challenge. Relocating back to his home town, Al took over the reins at his Green Bay East alma mater in 1960 – 68, where his undefeated team won the Fox River Valley Conference championship in 1965. The Red Devils earned the state’s highest rankings in both the AP and UPI polls. That same year, Coach Al was named the Wisconsin Football Coach of the Year. He also won the Fox Cities Sports Award. His COTY award was presented by college football legend Woody Hayes.

After leaving East High to devote time to his growing optometric practice, Al remained an assistant coach at Premontre High School (formerly Catholic Central) for the next five years. He afterwards served as a long-standing member of the WISAA Football Championship Selection Committee. In 1965, Al was honored as a charter member of the Wisconsin Football Coaches Hall of Fame.

In a coaching career that spanned 25 seasons, Al Mancheski won multiple accolades as a great motivator. He was considered an innovator in his time, and among the first to implement weight training for high school players. He also taught his players “vision/quickness” reaction training, and supplied them with contact lenses in lieu of glasses while playing.

So what made Al such a successful football coach? Several factors went into creating his formula for winning; and much of it was formed by taking bits and pieces from the coaching masters he had played under, and learned from. Al had learned, first, how to motivate players through speeches from the great Curly Lambeau, passed along to him via Lambeau's protege: Tom Hearden. Also from Lambeau, Al learned to be innovative. Curly Lambeau dominated the NFL by emphasizing the forward pass (Arnie Herber to Don Hutson), and how speedy running backs (Johnny Blood McNally) could then flourish in a spread open offense.

Second, Al learned his misdirection offense from both Tom Hearden at East, and Harry Stuhldreher at Wisconsin. These mentors had both played for legendary Knute Rockne's (Four Horsemen) Notre Dame-era championship teams. The emphasis was on variations of the Notre Dame box and single-wing offense, where a direct center snap to the running backs created a multitude of variations, all designed to confuse the defense. 

But Al added his own flare to his winning philosophy. He created a version of the single-wing, which he called the "Twing" offense. (The press called it the "Go" offense.) This set the four ball carriers in a straight line behind the center, where each back was equally likely to receive the hike. When the ball was snapped, the backs all moved in different directions, some spinning or taking juke steps, crossing one another, sometimes with their backs completely turned to the defense. The result was defenders had to guess who the true ball carrier was -- often guessing incorrectly. This resulted in numerous plays each game where the defense ganged-up on one presumed target, only to find the real ball carrier sprinting down the opposite sideline and outrunning the confused defenders for gashing gains of thirty, forty, or fifty yards ... quite often sprinting untouched across the goal line. 

The third aspect to Al's coaching philosophy was what he called "the edge." This was a combination of psychological ploy and physical execution. Again, he learned this technique passed down from Knute Rockne (see "Gipper" speech) via Harry Stuhldreher; and from Curly Lambeau (little Green Bay underdogs), as well as from Tom Hearden (everyone's against us!). Al's variation was by giving his players something the other team's didn't have, and it instilled a sense of confidence that spread through the entire team. Initially Al did this with weight training. In the summers, he had his players lifting weights together in the park across from the high school. This was in 1960, long before team training with weights was in vogue. Not only did it foster team unity, but also made his players stronger and more developed, presumably, than many of their opponents.

Even back in the late 1950s, Al instituted "vision reaction training" for his entire team. This was a series of techniques he had learned in optometry school, which involved teaching players visual cues, which then allowed their bodies to react quicker, and respond faster, to stimuli. An early proponent of this technique was the legendary Cleveland Browns' founder and coach, Paul Brown. Coach Brown also believed in quickness training, advocating that "the eyes lead the body." Thus the faster your brain could process what you're eyes were seeing, the quicker your body could react.

Every time Al's teams took the field, his players believed they held not only a motivational edge, but also a physical advantage over their opponents as well. In short, Al's players knew they were stronger, faster, and quicker than anyone they were playing. And with their Twing offense, which confounded defenses, they also likely thought they were more clever. What a huge advantage!  

On the defensive side of the ball, Al's Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay East teams played a "combination" defense. This was a philosophy of man-to-man defense up front, where each lineman's job was to defeat the player across from him. The scheme allowed linebackers and defensive backs to play their own match-up assignments on the opponent's skill players -- similar to stiff man-to-man defense in basketball. With his Clippers' and Red Devils' players stronger and quicker than most opposition players, Al's defenses could smother their opponents by winning at every position, on nearly every play.

The fourth aspect to Al's winning philosophy was the "Kiss Method." (Decades before it became popular in today's sports lexicon.) Keep-it-Simple-Stupid! This meant that his strategy kept things simple so players' mistakes were reduced to practically nill. Fumbling the football was a mortal sin; and the same went for penalties. Al's teams played with great discipline. This aversion to making mistakes, however, did have its drawbacks. Even though Al's teams had great athletes, and excellent punters and place kickers, they rarely attempted field goals. Mostly for fear of having the kick blocked; and yet, Al always reasoned that with his deceptive offense, his teams were just as likely to make first downs on fourth downs, no matter how great the yardage. Why settle for three points, he reasoned, when the odds are just as likely you will score six?

The same thing went for passing the football. Al's desire to reduce mistakes created a reluctance to put the ball in the air. Yet this ultimately worked to his team's advantage. Al stacked the deck with his passing attack, by using it sparingly. With all the misdirection running plays his offense created, when his quarterbacks did pass, they usually found their receivers wide open against unsuspecting defensive backs. By lulling the defenders into passivity, Al's teams used their passing attack as a fatal weapon. When they did spring an unexpected pass, the plays were so well-designed and cleverly disguised, that they usually met with a near-perfect execution. 

This modest passing attack, while not amassing a volume of receptions, nevertheless made a national high school All American out of East High's fabulous tight end, Pat "Bone" Harrington. And if not for a freak injury in college at Northwestern, Harrington was well on his way to collegiate All-American status, and a lengthy career in professional football.

Yet all things considered, Al Mancheski's greatest attribute was perhaps in taking losing programs and turning them into winners. Both Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay East were downtrodden programs when Al arrived on the scene. They were both high-success, championship programs when he departed. Al's career winning record as a head coach for thirteen years at Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay East high schools combined, stands at 61 - 27 - 7. 

A lifelong Packers and Badgers fan, Al often told stories of himself in high school, practicing on the East High field while Curly Lambeau’s Packers warmed up outside the Old City Stadium fence. The fact that Al’s long-time mentor and friend, Tom Hearden, played and coached with Curly Lambeau, allowed Al into the Packers’ inner circle. When Hearden was nearly named the team’s head coach for the 1958 season, he assured Al that he’d place him as an assistant on his new coaching staff. But alas Tom Hearden's health took a tragic turn before named as the Packers' head coach.

Throughout his life, Al maintained close friendships with a number of his assistant coaches. In particular, Gene and Faye Bray (and family), and Tom and Betty Van Lieshout (and family). And also with his neighbors and good friends Don Johnson and Gene Van Hout. Al relished his trips back to Sturgeon Bay, where he was honored multiple times by the athletic department, Clippers' Nation, and the local community for helping put Sturgeon Bay athletics on the map during his long tenure with the football program. Many of Al's former players at both Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay East, in later years, kept in touch with Coach Al and revered him as a friend and mentor. 

In his later years, having retiring from coaching as well as his optometry practice, Al turned to book authorship. He conveyed his personal story about Tom Hearden’s life to his son, Janson, and together they co-authored the novel Shoot For the Stars – The Tom Hearden Story. It tells the remarkable tale of one man’s life in football, much the same way Al’s own story reads. The book has received rave reviews since it's publication in 2015, and is considered by football and non-sports fans alike as one of the finest sports-themed novels ever written. 

Al is survived by his wife, the former Dawn Marie Trask, whom he married in 1951; his sons Janson, Mark, and Randall, all of Green Bay, daughters Nancy (Nubs DeCleene, deceased) and Amy (King) and her husband Paul, along with grandchildren Chase and Somer DeCleene. 

A funeral has been scheduled for 10 A.M. Monday at St. Mary of the Angels church. It is the same small Polish parish on the East Side of Green Bay, where at the age of ten, Al Mancheski first learned how to play the game of football.

JOHNNY BLOOD TALKS TO JIM “4 HORSEMAN” CROWLEY

Here’s my radio script copy that I was too chicken to run: RADIO SCRIPT 

ANNOUNCER: Today we’re interviewing two ghosts of Packers past. Take it away, gentlemen:

BLOOD: Hi. I’m Johnny Blood. Hall of Fame running back for the Green Bay Packers.
CROWLEY: And my name’s Jim Crowley. I grew up in Green Bay. And I’m still remembered as one of Notre Dame’s all-time greatest ball carriers.
BLOOD: One of the Four Horsemen, weren’t you, Jim?
CROWLEY: You betcha. The Four Horsemen, Knute Rockne… those were the days, eh Johnny?
BLOOD: That they were, my friend.…. But the reason were talking to you today, is that you can read about many of our exploits—
CROWLEY: (Laughs): Both on and off the field—
BLOOD: — Along with Curly Lambeau, Tom Hearden, and many other great players in the entertaining new football novel SHOOT FOR THE STARS. It’s chock full of behind-the-scene stories many fans have never heard of.
CROWLEY: Where can folks get ahold of this book, Johnny?
BLOOD: Any bookstore can order it. Or Amazon. Or Barnes and Noble.
CROWLEY : So maybe we settle our long-time bet? Who the greatest running back in Green Bay history really was?
BLOOD: Let’s let the fans decide. They’re usually right.
CROWLEY: SHOOT FOR THE STARS. What football was like back when men were men, and their broken noses proved it.
BLOOD: By the way, Jim. You’d be a lot better looking today if you’d played with a facemask.
CROWLEY: At least I didn’t play with a constant hangover…

They argue as voices FADE: … I think I’ve still got a few loose teeth, Jim…. And likely still a hangover… Just a little tired, my friend… Remember that time against the Bears? 

ANNOUNCER: SHOOT FOR THE STARS… The perfect gift for every football fan you know. Order your copy today.

MY NEW ORANGE JUMPSUIT

Are the FBI and NSA really watching us? Of course they are. Countless reports of mass-scale data collection—along with testimony from high-ranking security officials—tell us that there are “risk profiles” our government is keeping on every one of us. With sophisticated surveillance systems hoovering-up our personal phone, Internet, and e-mail details every minute of every day, I can’t help but wonder how my own file reads.

What brought this topic to recent light has to do with an early Christmas gift I decided to give myself, rather than any hint of criminality on my part. Please allow me to explain:

First off, as a fiction writer—one whose mind is continuously hatching plot-twists and fanciful characters—my concentration levels tend to briefly wander at times. It doesn’t mean I’m spaced-out, but only that my mind sometimes loses track of mundane things like checking accounts, stop lights, and grocery lists. This results in fleeting episodes of unfocused thought. Consider Einstein, as an example, forgetting to zip his fly while quantum equations pirouette in his head. When this happens, the results can at times be embarrassing; most often they are merely amusing.

Using this “mind drift” as my defense, here’s how things went south when I ordered my aforementioned holiday gifts. While at the same time setting off alarms in the dark corridors of some cavernous NSA data-harvesting lab. 

The set-up goes like this: Over the past two summers I’ve discovered that a troop of small rodents has taken up residence in my backyard bushes. They are field mice or voles, something of the sort, and seem to thrive on fresh grass. Finally I’d had enough of their destructive presence. I searched YouTube for tricks on how to get rid of them. My search lead to a product called Havoc, a “rodenticide” claiming to “Get rid of rats and mice.” The main ingredient is something called brodifacoum, which is essentially a sophisticated version of potassium cyanide.

Excellent. I typed in my desire for the 8 lb. tub of the stuff. Should do the trick, I snickered.

The problem is, I never finalized the shipment. Instead the order sat in my Amazon shopping cart for three months. Now speed forward to the last week of November. Halloween has come and gone, but I remembered receiving a Goodreads e-mail list called The Ten Most Frightening Ghost Stories of 2014. I decided to treat myself to an early holiday gift, and picked out six novels that I hoped would cause my bones to shiver at night. Then I logged into Amazon and ordered the books, not paying the slightest attention to the older items still sitting in my shopping cart.

I was pondering my order two days later, when it dawned on me. I looked up my order and sure enough…they had shipped my new scary novels, along with the other items in my cart. I tried to imagine who the Amazon order-takers really are. I assume they’re everyday people, folks with at least a bit of a sense of humor. And people being people, I imagined how much delight they might experience (boredom relief?) when comparing notes on the most ridiculous orders they receive. I pictured the order-taker on my account calling out to her co-workers, “Hey, get a load of this sicko. He just ordered eight pounds of cyanide and a half-dozen crime-horror books.”

I pictured the co-workers gathering around her screen, perhaps even bringing up my writer’s website out of curiosity. More laughter. My website (if one bothers to check) says I specialize in “suspense and terror, frightening scenes of murders and kidnappings,” et cetera. Having a photo of a graveyard as my site heading likely doesn’t help matters. Especially with this gaggle of Amazon employees staring at my order of cyanide (an 8 lb. tub, no less), and a half-dozen gruesome horror novels.

Yikes. 

All right. So here’s my note in advance, offering a preemptory mea culpa: “Dear FBI. I’m not planning any crimes or dastardly doing with the rat poison. Please excuse me from any and all accidents or transgressions in my neighborhood. Especially those involving small pets. I wasn’t considering the ramifications when I placed my order. Sincerely, Jeffrey Dahmer.”

OK. Forget the last part. Just kidding, Mr./Ms. FBI agent. Just an attempt at a little dark holiday humor. Ha, ha. Anyway, Happy New Year. And to all my friends and readers: Please come and visit me at Leavenworth Penitentiary.

THE PARABLE OF SIX SAVVY READERS

Six book analysts decided to form a review group. They called themselves The Illuminators, with their goal being to shine light on excellent stories, thereby separating these from the quagmire of mundane books currently being foisted upon the public. Each expert was a professional, and each had consumed thousands of books of all types. The popularity of these experts was so keen that readers sent them hundreds of questions and queries every month, asking for their recommendations on a wide variety of novels. The experts were pleased to share their knowledge, especially with book lovers who asked them thoughtful questions.

One day, our six analysts were given a challenge by an assertive young writer. The writer, it seemed, had a dilemma: he couldn’t figure out how to define his recently published book. This writer had racked his brain in search of what should have been a simple answer. He had read about The Illuminators, and decided these experts possessed so much knowledge between them, that they could easily provide him with the solution. 

Most often a book’s theme is self-evident. Novels define themselves by structure or genre. Some stories are mysterious in nature; they construct a puzzle in the mind of the reader. Other tales follow logical patterns and reveal the rich tapestry of the characters within. Still other plots thrive on emotion and conflict. These episodes take the reader on a journey through the murky travails of everyday human life.

The Illuminators met monthly. Intrigued as they were by the young writer’s puzzle, they had taken up the challenge to assist him in defining his story. So they were gathered now after dark, sitting in a familiar parlor around a large oaken table. In the center had been placed a copy of Shoot For The Stars.

The group’s head, a thin man with a goatee, spoke first. “As you know, we’ve been tasked with defining the nature of this book sitting before us. I, Goatee, as group leader, shall start things off. He stretched his hand to the center, laying his palm on the cover of the book, like a witness does a bible. “This story,” continued Goatee, “is about the founding years of professional football. It is a story about Curly Lambeau, the man who built the Green Bay Packers from scratch. With so apparent a football theme, it is obviously a sports book.”

The reader to his left eyed him curiously. She wore horned rimmed glasses and bore the image of a librarian. “You must have read it wrong, my friend. While the story arc is about sports, the message conveyed is that of a love story. It spins the life of Tom Hearden, a Curly Lambeau protégé. And true, it reveals how he sets about on his lifelong dream to one day coach of the Green Bay Packers. Yet at its heart it is a tale about romance: Tom’s love of his boyhood team. The love of his life, however, is Marion, his wife. The primary narrative is about their journey together as a couple. Thus, it reads as a love story.”

She pulled her hand back from the center and leaned back with a satisfied smile.

Our third reader displayed a pinched face, and thus we call the diminutive man Prune. “My learned colleagues are both off base,” he said, thin arm extended. “To me this story is a memoir. Our young writer interviews his father, who is ninety-three-years old. From his wisened perspective, he reveals the journey of his personal friend and mentor, unveiling Tom Hearden’s life from his time as a young boy, his love for the Packers, and unmasking how Tom was almost—but for a health failure—named head coach of the Packers. Thus it is a memoir, I say. One which transports us on an amazing journey through our nation’s past century.”

“I have a different take on it,” said our fourth reader, a man in a gray fedora. “This reads as a motivational story to me. Tom is dogged in pursuit of his dream; so dogged, in fact, that the reader cannot help but cheer him along. Setting goals, self-discipline, perseverance. Even the title Shoot For The Stars emphasizes his journey.

“Poppycock,” proclaimed our fifth expert.” She had upswept hair in the fashion of Doris Day. She placed her dainty palm on the book. “I was a New York editor for fifteen years. I certainly know a mystery when I read one.”

“Mystery?” protested the Librarian. “Where is the conflict, my dear? Where is the crime?”

“Tension ripples beneath the surface.” Doris wafted her free hand. “Will Tom make it to the mountain top? Will he fulfill his dream to one day coach the Packers? Or will he be waylaid along his journey?”

Prune gave her a searching look. “Waylaid by whom? Who, pray tell, might the villain be?”

“The villain—my good fellow—is a most dastardly antagonist. One known to us all. He is none other than Father Time.”

Heads nodded and they became quiet, digesting the suggestion of the metaphore.

Goatee finally broke the silence. He extended his hand once more to the table’s center. “My good friends,” he said, with aplomb, “we have here before us an amazing book. When we each read the identical work, and each come to a different conclusion on how best to label it, we have a gem of a story sitting before us.”

His colleagues prompted him to continue. “Therefore,” Goatee went on, “our conclusion is solid: this story is not only a sports story, but a lesson in history as well. It is simultaneously a memoir, as well as being filled with motivational advice. Furthermore”—a quick nod to Doris—“it is a mystery in its own right, a tale filled with suspense to the very end.”

“Such being the case, how do we then define it for the writer?” asked Fedora. “Isn’t that the mission we took upon ourselves?”

Goatee roped them all with a look. “It is a blended plot, multi-dimensional, one that readers of all ages can enjoy. Anyone with a taste for a splendid story will be satisfied when they turn the final page of Shoot For The Stars. I will pass our critique along to our young writer friend. We score his novel with flying colors.”

It was rare, indeed, for these six savvy experts to agree that a book could be so many different things to readers, and still be the same story. Like the famous parable of the six blind men and the elephant, it took a truly wondrous tale to be so satisfying to them all.

DRINKING WITH SMIRNOV

I was talking to my old friend Yak Smirnov the other day, and the conversation swung around to my newest book Shoot For The Stars. Smirnov, a critic by nature, kept defining the book as historical fiction. I listed it that way initially, I explained, but then switched the listing to “creative nonfiction.” This prompted a discussion, and as we were drinking vodka on the rocks, (tip: be careful trying to keep up with a Russian when vodka’s involved) we each kept reiterating our same points over and over. I tried to coax him over to my point of view by explaining the difference.

“Historical fiction,” I said professorially, “are stories taking place within an actual historical time period. Or based around true historic events. The characters can be real people from the past, or completely fictitious. At times a combination of both.”

“Like Planet of the Apes,” Smirnov said, pouring himself another drink. We were sitting at my kitchen table and the lights were off. Faint moonlight seeped in through the window. The room was quiet.

“I think that’s fiction.” I reached for the bottle after he’d set it down.

“How can you say that?” Smirnov protested. “‘Apes’ really happened. It happened in the past.”

“Or was it the future?” I winked at him.

Smirnov swallowed his vodka. If he knew I was pulling his leg, he didn’t let on. “It depends if you envision time as linear. Neither I nor Kierkegaard do.”

I decided to reel him back to our conversation. “Creative nonfiction, on the other hand, is a factual story about real people who are involved in real events. The history can be proven and verified.”

“What about dialogue?” he asked.

“Aye, there’s the rub,” I said. 

“Is that Shakespeare or Arthur Conan Doyle?” 

“What? The rub?” I thought about it. “Shakespeare, would be my guess. Maybe Hamlet? I think Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes was fond of saying, ‘Evil’s afoot’.”

“Wrong, jackass!” Smirnov laughed. “The game’s afoot is Shakespeare, again. Henry the something or other. Evil’s afoot is Doyle borrowing Shakespeare.”

“Forsooth?” I said, playing along.

“Sure as we’re drinking vodka together.”

This circuitous conversation needed to end, I decided. “So I hope this clears up your confusion on historical fiction versus creative nonfiction.”

Smirnov thought for a minute. “I suppose. But let’s see if I’ve got it right: you making up BS and setting it in a real time period…that’s historical fiction. You writing about real people and stuff that actually happened, then making up the crap they might have said about it—that’s creative nonfiction.” He smirked. “That about right?”

I shrugged.

“What about our conversation here? Right now? Fiction or nonfiction?”

“Well, you’re real, aren’t you? We’re talking actual words and drinking vodka together. So I’d say we’re in a nonfiction story.”

“Except for the part where your mind plays tricks,” Smirnov suggested, a glint near his label. “What if I’m just the bottle of vodka sitting here on your table? Nothing more?”

I sighed. “You’re giving me a headache.” I shoved my glass toward him. “Pour me another drink. Please.”

Smirnov filled my glass. “What about your hangover tomorrow?” he asked. “Is that going to be real or fiction?”

I closed my eyes and sipped my drink. A cloud passed over the moon and the room’s faint light grew a little dimmer.