HOW K. U. BASKETBALL MESSED WITH MY MARRIAGE

The first 50 years of our marriage went well, partly because we each had our own areas of interest. Hers were the arts, entertainment and psychology.  Mine were sports, sports and more sports. You might think this would be a source of friction, but other than a few disparaging remarks about my obsession, we respected each other’s passions. Each day began blissfully with her reading the arts and entertainment section of the newspaper while I was lost in the sports pages.  On occasion, I would be coaxed from my sporting lair to attend a concert or a chick flick, but hey, sometimes I had to compromise to keep the peace.  Year after year this marital bliss went on until the unthinkable happened and my world was turned upside down.  At the breakfast table one Sunday morning I started searching through the newspaper.

“Where is the sports section?” I asked frantically. “Did they forget to print it?”

“I’m reading it,” she replied tersely from behind the paper, like she had every right to do so.
For a moment I was stunned into silence. “Why are you reading the sports section? You haven’t read sports in 50 years,” I said, exasperated.
“I know.  I wanted to see if K.U. won the basketball game last night.”
If she had announced that World War Three had started it wouldn’t have been any more shocking.
“You have never been interested in K. U. Basketball,” I challenged, resentful of her treading in my domain.
“I know, but I like the way Bill Self coaches.”
I stared at her dumbfounded.
“How could you possibly know how he coaches?”
“Sometimes I watch the games while I’m doing other things. You have been too absorbed to notice.”

Me? Absorbed by sports?

“You were kind of sneaky about this,” I challenged.
“Don’t be silly.”
“And now you’re hogging the sports section.”
“You’re such a grouch. I’m almost finished.”
“You don’t understand. The sports pages are sacred. I’ll be reading second hand news.”
She shook her head in exasperation and handed them over.
“I think it would be fun to go to a game,” she announced.
For a moment I was too stunned to respond.  
“You’ve had no interest in sports all these years. What gives?”
“It looks like it would be entertaining.”
 “The Pope is easier to see than K.U. basketball tickets are to get.  And it would cost a small fortune,” I said, putting her off to protect my domain.
“You just don’t want me to go.”
She had played the marital trump card and we both knew she had me where it hurt.
“I’ll see what I can do.”

We were sitting at the very top of Allen Fieldhouse. The only thing higher was the Beware of the Phog banner. She didn’t mind in the least, and was totally enthralled with all that was going on below her.
“Isn’t this wonderful!” she exclaimed, enraptured.
“As soon as my nose bleed stops I’ll let you know. We had better watch for pigeons.”
She patted my leg to placate me as she watched the players warming up.        
“Where is he?” she asked
“Where is who?”
“Bill Self.”
“How would I know? I can’t see the court.”
“Don’t be cute.”
“He has this thing he does where he takes a few moments of quiet contemplation before every game.” I explained.
“Oh. I can understand that.”

 And then on the big screen Bill Self came sauntering out and she began cheering and clapping with the rest of the crowd.  The fieldhouse hushed for the alma mater. She was a K.U. grad and the hail to old K.U line made her swell with pride.  The rock chalk Jayhawk chant followed and she joined in with fervor for good ole K.U.
A few minutes into the game one of the Morris twins was called for a foul and she was fuming.
“Why did they call a foul?” she demanded.
“Elbows to the throat are not allowed,” I replied.
“Oh. It must have been accidental.”
I rolled my eyes.
“By the way, what does in the paint mean?” she asked.
Holy hoops! She was learning the jargon! I explained about the paint.

The game ebbed back and forth as she watched nervously, living and dying with each shot at the basket. Finally, K. U. put the game away and she let out a contented sigh of relief.
“Maybe we should leave early to beat the crowd,” I said, thinking about the trek down from the top of Allen Fieldhouse.
 She looked at me like I had committed a sacrilege.
“No way,” she said firmly. “I want to go down and see the court. We might even get to see the players when they leave the dressing room.”
I knew that I was dreaming and that I would wake up in a cold sweat, safe and secure in my sports domain.  
We watched some of the post game activity and were among the last to leave Allen Fieldhouse.
“I really enjoyed myself,” she said as we stepped out into the wind and rain. “I’m going to watch every game.” 
And there it was, stark and undeniable. One of the foundations of our marriage had crumbled. My domain was now our domain.  Bill Self had turned my wife into a basketball fan.  

TOP WRITING AND PUBLISHING TIPS GLEANED OVER 20 YEARS

1. Purchase a copy of The Elements of Style. It is a timeless instruction by Professor William Strunk Jr. on how not to use needless words.

2.  Before publishing, hire a content editor, a grammar and punctuation editor and a proof reader. Mistakes in the manuscript can be invisible to the writer because they are imprinted on the brain.

3. There is some truth to the theory that waiting at the computer for inspiration is the correct way to go.  However, that inspiration might also be waiting on the golf course or at the movies.

4. Buy a book of baby names.  You will know instantly the name of your character when you read it.

5. Do research and hire the best people to produce a book. It will be judged by the quality as well as the content.

6.  Writing about sex is risky. It should be erotic and exciting without going into too much detail.  

7. There is no rhyme nor reason to book reviews    One of my novels received a tepid review from the book review department of a large metropolitan newspaper.  Later, that same novel won a prestigious literary award named after the longtime book review editor of that newspaper.    

8. Don’t bet the farm on any writing project. Use money you can afford to lose and you will sleep better at night.

9. Trust your instincts.  Twenty years ago the establishment warned me not to self publish because the conventional wisdom was that my novel would not be taken seriously and would not be reviewed.  The establishment was wrong. My novel, Gully Town, received a ton of publicity and rose to number three on the Regional best-seller list.

10. Don’t forget the most important two word question of all before starting a writing project.  Who cares?  If you don’t know the answer then reconsider the project.

11. Writing is like a good wine. It needs to age before being consumed.

12. Be passionate about your writing.  An example of how I almost ended up in jail for the sake of research is detailed in one of my previous blogs: THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING THERE.