"Last Night, I Fell into a Book"

Last night, I fell into a book. If you have no idea what that means, then I honestly feel sorry for you. Falling into a book is an amazing experience, and one that I wish every person could experience. I had not fallen into a book for some time, and, let me tell you this: I missed it.
For those of you who are rading this and wondering what in the world I am talking about , what this weird "falling into a book" business is, let me explain as best I can. When you fall into a book, you lose yourself in whatever piece of writing you have been lucky enough to pick up and dive into. It might sound a little Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole, and that is not inaccurate. When you fall into a book, you get lost in the world that writer has created. Time becomes something that the rest of the world might notice, but for you, the ticking of the clock has been lost in sounds and speech of some alternate reality that wells up from the pages before you and pulls you in, sometimes like the razored hand of Freddy Kruger, snatching you into a dark world of screams and dreams, mightmares, at other times like the silken gloved hand of a porcelain-skinned angel who leads you through starlit nights, and at still others like the gnarled hand of an other teacher, guiding you through trails toward knowledge you never even knew you craved. Yeah, it's pretty cool.
Last night, I lost three or so hous in this mundane existance, but experienced weeks and months in a world I found shocking, intriguing, enlightening, and troubling, all at the same time. I won't argue that the book was all that good, but it snagged me and I fell. The book? A little piec eof light reaiding titled Fight Club. It is the novella that spawned the movie 15 or so years a go. The film starred Edward Norton and Brad Pitt. It fascinated me, partly because it is a perverted, dark "Walter Mitty"-type tale, partly because I watched it backwards. That is a whle diffeent story that I can tell later. For now, let's just say that the film intrigued me, and I have wanted to read the original ever since seeing it. Yesterday, Heidi and I were in Hastings and I saw a copy of the novella. I started reading it reading shortly after 8 pm. Suddenly, I glanced at the clock, and it was just after midnight. I had fallen intot he book. I had not planned it, and I was not diving in because my life required me to. I was just reading because I wanted to, and I fell in.  It was something I had not done for quite a while, and I loved it.
I once heard a bit of inspired truth: "If you say you hate reading, you just have not yet found what you love to read." I agree with this wholeheartedly. So, since this is New Year's Eve, and every channel will have a 'list' of some sort going tonight, I have decided I will throw together a list of my own. A list of books I have fallen into. I know I have had lists of books and movies and the like before, but this may be just alittle different. These are not the most inspirational novels or classics that every person must read. These are just books that I have had the pleasure to fall into for a little while. So, in no praticular order, here you go; maybe there will be something here you can fall into as well. Who knows?
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. This little pulp fiction novella is not what I would call a classic, but it is intriguing and revealing. It was written in 1996 and examines the rift between the expectations of a generation of men and the contradictory value systems that society presents. The narrator is dissatisfied with his white-collar life and IKEA lifestyle, until he meets Tyler Durden, who eventually leads the narrator into a world of social rebellion invovling insomnia, making soap from human fat, and Project Mayhem. It is not the most hopeful story. as Tyler Durden says, "On a long enough timeline, everyone's survival rates falls to zero." It is confusing, captivating, and, well, adult. After falling into the novella, you may eventually climb out feeling a little itchy, possbly craving a shower. But that is ok, every once in while, write?
World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie Wars, by Max Brooks. This novel was released in 2006, and it has recently been made into a feature film starring Brad Pitt. The movie was good, but it does not do the book justice. It is a collection of episodic tales from the Zombie Wars, tracing the origins of the disease to patient zero, examining the various reactions to the spread of the disease and rise of the zombies in various countries around the world, analyzing the individual and military attempts to fight the coming apocalypse, and recording the aftermath of the wars that are fought worldwide. Brooks pulls in everything from racial prejudice and nationalism to personal and government responsibility, from modern military feasibility to emotional, ethical, and intellectual reactions to crisis. I have written about this work before, so I obviously like it. Last Christmas, I fell into the book and scrambled through scenes left completely out of the movie. Can't trust Hollywood to do the job our minds were built to do in the first place, can we?
When Pride Still Mattered by David Maraniss. This is a little different work than the previous two selections. It is a biography of Vince Lombardi. I received the book about 10 years ago as a Christmas gift, and once I fell into it, I could not put it aside. Everyone knows Lombardi as the head coach for the NLF's Green Bay Packers. This biography looks all the way back to the man's childhood, through his playing days, on to his time as a high school coach a St. Cecilia's. The events and experiences that influence and impacted the man, not just as a coach, but as just that, a man. It spotlights the courtship of his wife, his struggles to move up through the coaching ranks, and other life events that do not always paint Lombardi in positive light, but are sincere and honest. It even examines Lombardi's impact and influences outside of football in business and in politics. I learned that this man was once approached by both political parties to measure the possibility of the old coach becoming part of each parties presidential ticket as a vice presidential candidate.
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson. This post-apocalyptic novella has been made into several movies; most recently Hollywood bastardized the piece into a film starring Will Smith. It is a great movie; it just is not a movie version of the novella written by Matheson. The novella is about one man's attempt to survive in a world ravaged by a disease that turns all of those around the narrator into vampire-like creatures who try to draw him out of his house each night, sometimes violently, sometimes through grotesque seduction. The most significant difference between the book and the film is the examination of legends, and why we as a society believe or at least hold on to certain legends, and what the very existence of those legends tells us about us and our society. Religious dogma, the necessity for hope, the fear of what is different all play a role in the novella. The plot drew me in, and I felt both empathy and hatred for the narrator. I had to see what he did, question why he would do it, and wonder how I might be different, or the same, if I were in his shoes. That is the great thing about falling into a book: you are taken to places you most likely will not have to go. I hope not, anyway.

I have a few other pieces I have fallen into. Some are more academic; others are guilty pleasures. I came out better for the dive into some, and I came out filthy on the other side of others. However, it is New Year's Eve, and it is my birthday, so I believe I am done with this post for now. I may break out a part 2 at some point, but for now, I leave you. Have a happy New Year, and may you also fall sometime soon. You will enjoy it.

"Twas the Night Before Christmas' (Ok not really, but sort of, or not)

Twas the night before Christmas (Ok not the night,

But that's how it starts, and we must do this right)

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care

(Not the chimney, don't have one; look in the stairway, they're there).

The children were nestled all snug in their beds
(Who are we kidding? They're on their iphones instead)
When Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap

(OK flannel pjs and boxers, we will don for our nap),

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter

(Probably someone on the leaves I have let the wind scatter)

Away to the window I flew like a flash
(Then tripped on my shoes and went down with a crash)
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
(Crap, more shoveling to do with my back screaming  "No!")
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
(I'm not sure, really, through blinds, curtains, and shears)
The little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment, it must be St. Nick!
(See what I did there, so I could work in his name?
Besides, I've gone long enough, and it seems pretty lame)
So I break from the pattern and go on with my lines,
And if you're too disappointed, tough, you'll be fine.
Mom will be upset that didn't drop the whole tale
She'll ask me to recite it, like other years, without fail.
You have things you should be doing, not reading this blog,
Be it gift wrapping, kid snuggling, or drinking eggnog.
So turn off the computer, the tablet, the phone
And pull someone closer;there is love to shown.
It is Christmas my friend, and time to be spent,
Laughing with loved ones, wondering where the year went.
Sing a carol or hymn, and share in the wealth
That only comes from the giving of time and oneself.
Wrap those all around you in smiles and good will
And enjoy time together, until you've had your fill.
I hope you all can be happy; I know this one line is right:
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!'

"You need to blog about this"

On the bus last Saturday evening, Luke Berblinger or Brendan Martens, or one of the other young men who rode home in a state of euphoria, said, "Coach Kohls, you need to blog about this!"
He was right. We were waiting for Coach Warner to come out to the bus after the State Championship game, a contest that saw this group of young men bring Buhler its first State Championship in football in school history. I started a blog on Sunday, but I did not finish it and post it. I take this blog thing seriously, dang it, and this occasion deserved to be done up right, if you will.  I just deleted about 500 words because it was not right. These kids, these young men, rather, deserve better.

Let's take a walk back. Humor me, ok. After managing to grab a playoff berth by finishing as runners-up in our district, we made a trip out to Ulysses. For those who have not lived in southwest Kansas (I did for 10 years, and while the people there are some of the best I know, it is called God's country for a reason: no one else wants it), Ulysses is out there. As Ev Kohls would say, "You're not at the end of the world, but if you stand on your tiptoes, you can see it." On that long bus ride, the kids watched a DVD.  As high school football players tend to do, they chose a football film. Actually, the ride was long enough that they chose two, but we will focus on one of them: Friday Night Lights.  The book that was the basis for the movie came out while I was in high school, and it is, as always, better than the movie. However, nutshell version: people are crazy for high school football, and the kids who play, and the coaches who work with them every day, deal with more than just a boys' game. Communities rally around the ritual of Friday night, and what happens on the field may in fact echo far after the cheers have ended.

Tonight, after achieving a small degree of separation from the euphoria of Saturday's win, I began to twirl the idea of our own Friday Night Lights story in my head. You see, Coach Warner hates football movies. They are too formulamatic, too predictable, and too unrealistic. However, I will say that no one could write the story of this season any better than than Buhler's Boys of Fall wrote it for themselves. I have read Our Boys by a New York Times reporter, and I was bored by it. Sorry, but it is true. Roger Barta and Smith Center deserved better. It wa a sugary lovefest. Yuck. The story of the last true 4A champion in Kansas, the final champion of 64 4A teams, is much better. It is not gushing, glitzy show. This tale is, as the kids say, legit.

The fall of 2013 in Buhler America is a true story of Friday Night Lights. You have every storyline one could hope for. The senior QB returns, only to enter a QB controversy  with a talented sophomore. The senior is injured, adding to the Hollywood conflict. But wait, as he struggles through his injury and the youngster develops as a QB and as a leader, the senior takes on a new role, as a do-what-it-takes-to-help-the-team leader. It is not a commercial forced upon us by a marketing campaign; it is sincere.  After the season, one of the shining moments for this boy of fall is a block against Abilene, when he lined up at WR and slobberknockerred a DB on a power run play, knocking down three defenders and springing the All-Star runningback. It did not show up in the paper or on the stat sheet, but it was a prime example of doing what needed to be done, and relishing the moment.

It does not stop there. When I was a senior in high school, I hoped to write the great American novel. Maybe this will be it. Pick a story line, and I will run with it. True, we had the all-state runningback who everyone looked to, whom everyone knew would shine. Our Booby Miles, minus the dramatic knee injury. He was fun to watch, and an explosive weapon who rolled up yards and TDs, culminating in a stellar performance in the state championship. However, we also had so many other stories, stories so few people will ever know.

We have the warrior who was poised for greatness after sitting out his junior year with a torn ACL, only to destroy the other knee during drills at a college camp late in the summer. I will not lie: I had a catch in my throat when the phone call came that revealed what had happened. It's not fair. But he braced the knee and powered through, cautious at first, unsure of what he could do. He drove me crazy at times, but one could never doubt his heart or his dedication to his team, his boys, his brothers. And in the end, he was a force. A pillar of strength in the middle who would not be defeated, would not be denied. A warrior. A Crusader.

We had the other wounded warrior, who had gone under the knife after a week one injury his junior year. He blazed back and stepped up. A trap on fourth and long. A reception on third and 25. A game-winning TD reception late in a shootout. A lockdown corner when opponent's abandoned the run. In the spotlight? Sometimes, but not really. Playing a role that he had to play, doing what he had to do to push his family toward another goal, toward the ultimate goal? Definitely.

I could go on. Please do not be offended if you feel I left you out; I do not mean to and I have so many stories in my head, and more importantly, in my heart. I sat in the lockerroom last Saturday and thought about all the things we were not, and that defined who we are. We started two DBs that will need cleats and tiptoes to sniff 5'7", but they played with the heart of champions, and earned every bit of the honor that comes with being just that, champions. As an offensive coach, I would want to know where that missile of destruction was coming from at safety, and toughness and heart proved much more valuable than pure athleticism, as evidenced by one frustrated stud in neon socks, and, oh yes, a state championship. Two of our LBs can only dream of running what most people would call respectable 40 times, but they played smart, were tough, and are the epitome of what high school football is about. One broke his leg in the middle of his junior year. The other, well, let's just say I have never tried harder to play off tossing a player a black jersey, while feeling such a huge swell of pride for him. The third LB, a great athlete, spent most of the second half against Topeka Hayden in tears, partially because he had separated his shoulder, partly because he wanted so much to help his brothers win. There is the 160 pound wrestler who lined up each week, giving up at least 100 pounds to the guard across from him, and yet wreaked havoc on those offenses week in and week out. That spot, the quick defensive tackle, is becoming a prized position, a position of true honor and reverence, and will continue to add to our success. We have not even touched on the all-state defensive end who once blitzed while looking the opposite way, and set the school record for sacks, resulting in drawing three and sometimes four blockers on pass plays, all the while caring more about his hair and the team's success than individual recognition. Or the DE opposite who also played TE, and stepped up  and made plays every time he was challenged. Or the two sophomores who lined up over two of the best athletes in state, not just in the championship game, but throughout the season. Go ahead; test them. You will lose. Oh wait; they did test them. And we won.

If you have not noticed, I am the defensive coordinator. The storylines on the offensive abound as well. They could fill a volume of their own.

I could go on. Maybe I will. Maybe this is my muse. I can tell you one thing: this is better than Hollywood. It is real. Sincere. True.

Boys, you are champions. And you did it the right way. Keep smiling; you deserve it.