Showing posts with label Hole in One book. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hole in One book. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Bar book signing Thursday!




The Pond is abuzz with excitement today! It’s just about 24 hours until my bar book signing!

It’s different, you see, because The Pond is usually abuzz with things like Crown Royal, Wild Turkey and locally brewed Duquesne Beer.

Thus, we’re left to consider the many joyful ways a literary book signing in a corner tavern differ in places actually dedicated to selling books, not booze.

I’ve participated in both. Care to guess which I prefer?

As Dave, the sage bar owner, said: “I’m sure your book signing will be a huge success -- or it’ll be like every other night in here, but with a stack of books.”

Works for me!

Aspiring writers dream of holding fancy book signings like John Grisham.

They don’t think of sitting way back by the fire exit in some godforsaken chain store where they keep the dusty books devoted to the study of Mayan architecture.

That happened to me in 2003 when I was determined to do everything I could to promote my new book, “Hole in One! The Complete Book of Fact, Legend and Lore on Golf’s Luckiest Shot,” a book the New York Times cited as the Bible on the topic in this article.

So it was a decent book and a big seller among people who’d had the rarest shot in sport.

The problem was the shot is so rare that people eager to buy a book about it are outnumbered by things like albino bison.

Book sellers understood this and banished me and my sales table to store sections so removed from regular traffic anyone wanting to find me would have to navigate a book shelf corn maze in order to do so. It was truly humiliating. I’d sit there for hours all by myself.

On the plus side, I became a self-taught expert on Mayan architecture.

It was vastly different for The Pond’s book signing for the same book.

I sold 40 books! The bartender was a very aggressive sales lady and threatened to withhold drinks if stingy patrons refused to buy.

Plus, every time I’d sell another 10 books or so I bought the bar a round.

Soon everyone in the bar was all gassed up and guys who don’t even read things like comic books were saying, “I never knew a book signing could be so much fun!”

That many of them eventually used the book to prop up short table legs didn’t bother me one bit. We all had a great time.

In fact, the fun got out of hand.

This is true: For the first and last time I can remember, Dave had to physically remove one drunk for unruly behavior.

“I had no idea literary events would attract so many hooligans,” he said.

One big question floating around is how much I’m going to charge for the books.

I expect the price will fluctuate along with my sobriety.

I plan on selling the $15.95 books for a base price of $14, but I told the friendly kitchen staff they can have them for $12.

But I suspect some patrons will try to get me drunk because they know I’m more generous when I’m tipsy.

Under those circumstances, the price could descend to as low as $10.

I’m thinking of using a sliding scale for multiple purchases: the first is $14; buy another and that’s $12; etc. But that might lead to mathematical chaos.

For instance, some shrewd buyer might say he wants a dozen copies and by extrapolating my scale contend I actually owe him $6.
The vibe, so far, is positive. Dave putting my tweets up on the electronic chalk board has lead to legions of new fans who told me the old sports trivia questions used to make their heads hurt.

And The Latrobe Bulletin put me, Dave and a bunch of bobbleheads on the front page Saturday announcing the event. That was very cool.

So if you’re in town on Thursday, please stop by The Pond from 4 to 8 p.m. You can buy a book or just say hello. The food’s good and you’ll see why me and my buddies spend so much time there.

I’m anticipating a huge success.

Or else it’ll be just like every other night, but with a stack of books. 

And that’ll be just fine with me.


Related . . .




Thursday, February 9, 2012

Inner earth: the true final frontier

Russian scientists have succeeded in drilling through two miles of solid Antarctic ice to reach a lake that’s been sealed from human contact for between 15 million and 34 million years, give or take an eon or two.


They are hoping to find microbial life within so-called Lake Vostok that could hint that life could exist on the frozen moons of Jupiter.


I’m hoping they find a copy of my 2003 book, “Hole in One! The Complete Book of Fact, Legend and Lore on Golf’s Luckiest Shot,” current Amazon rank: 1,845,777.


If I could script it, lead scientist Valery Lukin would say, “It was found bookmarked to the page where Arnold Palmer says he remembers his first ace with more clarity than his first kiss because it meant more to him.”


Imagine what that would do for sales. Yes, finding my 9-year-old golf book beneath miles of ancient ice would be ... hmmm ... what’s the word?


Cool?


It would certainly be better than finding Adolph Hitler.


Proving once again it’s impossible to out-crazy the crazies, Russia’s state-run news service, Ria Novosti is reviving a theory that Nazis sent a secret submarine to the lake to deliver the remains of Adolph Hitler and Eva Braun for future DNA cloning.


He’d certainly add philosophical spice to the chow hall debates at Gitmo after Seal Team 6 works their magic.

The report sounds like something you’d read in “The Weekly World News.” Favorite headline -- all together now! -- “Baby Born with Wooden Leg!!!”

I mention The News here because the diggings at Lake Vostok also remind me of another one of their great crusades: purifying the global air by simultaneously popping the tires on vintage cars from the 1950s. The logic is the gush of released air from 60 years ago would crowd all the bad air out of the atmosphere.

It is roughly 4,000 miles from the soles of your sneakers to the center of the earth. The deepest anyone’s ever drilled is 7 miles. What’s beyond that is mere speculation.

Here in Pennsylvania, thousands of my hillbilly neighbors are being enriched by Marcellus Shale natural gas deposits. What other natural wonders await down there?

These lakes are water created by pressure and warmth from below the ice. Who knows? Maybe there are perfectly pure pockets of ancient air.

Air from umpteen millions of years ago would be the respiratory equivalent of moonshine. It would be like 999 proof. One whiff and you’re 10-feet tall and bulletproof.

Because it was Capt. James T. Kirk that first told us that space was the final frontier, we’ve taken it at face value. We could have it completely backwards.

Our future may be beneath our feet. Maybe the world going to hell will lead the world to go to hell.

With climate change, extreme weather, Biblical flooding and drought, I’ve for years predicted that adventure vacations of the future will be anything above ground and out of doors.

So much of our discovery these days seems to hinge on the theory that sooner or later the surface atmosphere of Mother Earth will be too poisonous for people and plants.

Why else would Jupiter’s moons be in the mix?

All I know about Jupiter is the cruel rhyme my daughters use on me when they want to feel superior: “Girls go to college to get more knowledge! Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider!”

Poor grammar aside, I have no intentions of validating their taunt.

So I’m looking forward to a subterranean future where neither lawns will need mowing nor snow shoveling. Put up a basketball hoop, a cool stereo, a pool table and a big screen TV -- cable, not satellite -- and it would be just like home.

Think about it: Earth, the ultimate man cave.

Can you dig it?