Baseball tradition

I know more people watch football-- and basketball too, I'm guessing. And certainly, across the world many more people watch football/soccer, but there is something special about baseball. I think it's tradition. At this very moment the World Series is going on, and the Chicago Cubs are in it, the same Cubs who haven't won the World Series since 1908. They are playing the Cleveland Indians who haven't won a World Series since sometime in the 1940's.

There's a lot to be said for tradition. Picture this if you will. My grandpa with one eye completely clouded over in white from a cataract, reaching for one of his cigarette papers, filling it with Prince Albert tobacco, rolling it up, and licking the ends together. He strikes a stick match on a very old pot-bellied wood stove and lights his cigarette. He takes a drag -- dramatic pause -- and then he says. "Did I ever tell you about the time that Pepper Martin..."

He had told me, many times before, but I didn't mind hearing it again. The gashouse gang, Babe Ruth, and Lou Gehrig were my grandpa's heroes.  My Dad grew up with Stan Musial and the other Cardinal greats of the 40's and 50's. For me it was Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Curt Flood, Orlando Cepeda and others. I have clear memories of the Cardinals World Series games in 1967 and 1968, and then there was the drought of the 70's. Then 1982. And so on.

Even when my dad and I have nothing else to talk about, we can talk about baseball and what the Cardinals are doing right and what they are doing wrong. Watching Cardinal baseball was also one of the most important things in helping my wife get through breast cancer and chemotherapy. We still watch almost every game together even after they do something stupid and we say we'll never watch them again.

Some of the greatest moments of my life have been associated with baseball and also some of the worst. I went to a game and saw both Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa hit a home run, and then there was the summer after my sixth grade year when I made the little league team, and the coach never put me into a single game. I was crushed because I had every intention of growing up to be a major league baseball player.

Because of my love for the game, I made baseball, or in this case, softball a central part of the book. Most of the baseball moments in the book came strictly from my own warped imagination except for one. 

I actually did hit a softball off a girl named Rhonda's forehead. She was a tough country girl who played most sports as well as all the guys did, and it didn't hurt her, but it sure made me feel guilty. I don't actually remember if she threw me out at first base or not, but I'd like to imagine I was safe.

If you are a baseball fan or just a fan of being a kid, you'll like Walt Michaels is a Weenie.  Give it a try. The price is right.

Click here to check out Walt Michaels and to get a free preview.

I know what it's like to be a bully, and I don't like it.

I don't bully people despite the fact that I have been bullied many times in my life. I know some people say this is a part of growing up, but I think those people are full of crap. I know what bullying did to me.  There is another reason why I don't bully. In sixth grade, I learned how it felt to be a bully, and I didn't like it.

Of course, Walt Michaels is a Weenie, has a bully in it. His name is Chad, but he gets his comeuppance. When I bullied, I did not get my comeuppance. In fact I didn't even get in trouble. Here's how it happened.

There was a kid -- I'm not going to give his name -- who was a preacher's son. He was annoying as heck, but he still didn't deserve what I did to him. Everyone picked on this kid. You have seen the type of kid that just seems to attract bullies. I once heard of a chicken pecking party. Chickens spot a flaw or something in a fellow chicken and they gang up on him/her and peck it to pieces.  The preacher's kid was pecked to pieces all of the time.

One day, during recess, I pushed him down. I don't know why I decided to join the chickens that day because I usually didn't. However, he didn't stay on the ground. He jumped up and took a swing at me. Now, my manhood was threatened. I knocked him down in one or two punches, and I can even remember sitting on his back while he cowered like a turtle and punching him from underneath his body. I hit him a couple more times and then got off him. He had a bloody mouth and nose.

He jumped up and screamed that he was going to tell on me and ran to the teacher. I didn't cry, but my eyes watered from guilt. I really wasn't even hurt. I remember a girl that I admired saying, "Why are you crying? You beat the s**t out of him." What I felt at that moment was shame and guilt. I was also embarrassed that I could not bask in the glory of my playground victory.

When we faced the teacher, I don't even remember what excuse I gave, but I do remember that the preacher's kid broke down in long, racking sobs and starting screaming that everyone hated him because he was a preacher's kid and that everybody picked on him. I felt deeply ashamed of myself. The teacher made us shake hands and apologize to each other. Those were the only consequences I received at all for my behavior. How many times have you seen a bully suffer no consequences for his behavior?

I went home and told my mom that I had gotten into a fight. I told her because somehow I believed that she, with her mother e.s.p., would somehow discover it anyway and I would be in even worse trouble for not telling her. The thing is though, when I told her, I lied. I told her that the preacher's kid was picking on my friend. Mom said that the fight in that particular case was justifiable. This, of course, made me feel even more guilty than I did before. As far as I know, Mom believed that lie until she died. I'd forgotten I'd even lied to her until it came up in a conversation I had with the mom of the friend I supposedly took up for after my mom died.

I don't think I ever bullied another kid. I still remember the incident, and I still remember how ugly I felt after the incident. There's just something about those sixth grade experiences that stick with a person.This one helped to shape me in ways that I have only begun to understand.

I'm still pushing my book. There's a link for you below.

For a free preview of Walt Michaels is a weenie, click me.

The Great Valentine's Day Disaster

The sixth grade was most likely the pivotal point of my life, and I guess that's where Walt Michaels is a Weenie came from. In some ways sixth grade, at least in America, is the last really fun school year that a person has. In other ways, it is the most confusing too.  Weird things start happening to people. I know. I was there.

Before I talk about one particular incident that left a mark on me in sixth grade, I would like to mention something about Walt Michaels is a Weenie. Most people don't know that I wrote a screenplay version of the novel too, and it was actually quite good. (Not good enough to sell to anyone, but still quite good.) I entered the screenplay into a screenplay contest called Exposurama. It was their second annual contest. I actually finished in the top 100 of the contest. The most exciting thing is that I finished in the top ten in the comedy category of the contest. I'd like to say that this contest wasn't for kid films. It was for all kinds of screenplays, and I finished in the top 100 overall and the top 10 in comedy. I was pretty proud of myself because it showed me that anyone could enjoy this story.

I had great plans for the series. I wrote another book called Rosetta Stone Diaries which featured a girl who is very much like Walt, an average, fairly geeky kid who gets into trouble but who has big dreams.

I write characters like this because this is the kind I can relate to. I was very much a geek from about sixth grade to my sophomore year in college. Some still think I'm a geek.

Ah, but back to sixth grade. Come on; admit it. Sixth grade was a turning point in your life too. I have several vivid memories of that time. One in particular didn't actually make it into the book because it was painful literally and figuratively. I remember the day. It was Friday, February 13, 1970. That's right Friday the 13th.  Back then we still had school parties for all the big holidays. Ours was supposed to happen after the third recess. (Do kids still get recess?) One of my friends -- he was a big guy whom we called bam bam -- pushed me. He didn't really have a reason, and I don't think he was deliberately being mean though the incident did hurt my feelings. I fell backward, and when I hit the ground, my right wrist snapped. The big bone was broken cleanly in two.

I missed my Valentine's Day Party which included all the Valentines and the cupcakes, soda, and candy. Bam Bam apologized profusely and felt guilty for a long time. As I said though, I didn't really hold it against him because we were friends. Sometimes kids get rough and do stupid things.  What's really sad is that Bam Bam died of a massive heart attack when he still was very young.

The only good thing that came out of my broken arm was the cool cast that everyone in the sixth grade signed.

Walt Michaels is a book filled with incidents that just happen to kids, ones which they sometimes bring on themselves and ones which sometimes just happen. It's a wonder we survived sixth grade.

This is the site where you can read a sample of Walt Michaels and/or buy it. I would appreciate your support and your feedback. I need to decide if I am going to let Walt fade away or if I'm going to carry his story on into the seventh grade. I think I'll have Rosetta Stone join him in the seventh grade if I keep writing the story.

Walt Michaels is a Weenie

Walt Michaels is a Weenie

A few years ago, I wrote a really funny middle grade novel book called Walt Michaels is a Weenie. It got some good reviews for a little while, but when the contract ran out, I got the rights to the book back. I am experimenting with self publishing some of the books I have previously published to see if anything comes of it. I'm inviting all who read this to read a free preview of the novel, and if you life what you've read to order it. It's pretty inexpensive, and I know it will make you laugh.  Have I ever lied to you before?

If you like Sandlot or Diary of a Wimpy Kid, you'll like Walt Michaels is a Weenie.

https://www.amazon.com/Walt-Michaels-Weenie-Steven-Cross-ebook/dp/B01MQ0CMPF/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477433873&sr=8-1&keywords=walt+michaels+is+a+weenie