Reviews of Curse?



BaseballGB (http://www.baseballgb.co.uk/) British persprctives on baseball
By Matt Smith, March 10, 2010

‘Curse? There ain’t no stinking Chicago Cubs Curse’ is a collection of eleven “stories about sports and gamesmanship”.  Four are by James Wolfe, two with a baseball theme and two on golf, and Mary Ann Presman supplies the other seven, exploring relationships and life to a backdrop of ‘Backyard Bocce Ball’, brothers playing basketball and Scrabble dating evenings among others.
The two baseball-themed stories naturally take precedence in this forum and both are enjoyable reads.
The title story is the most substantial piece in the collection.  It tells the tale of a rich businessman called Johnny who decides to buy the Chicago Cubs and gleefully runs the organization with the joint intentions of winning the World Series and making lots of money.  He immediately poaches the best manager in the game and throws his cash around like confetti to assemble the best team money can buy; however this comes at a price.  Cubs fans are able to watch a great team, but they do so at Goldman Sachs Field (the naming rights to Wrigley having been sold to the highest bidder) where advertising billboards take the place of the cherished ivy on the outfield walls and everything, from game tickets to hot dogs, costs a fortune. 
The common disagreement over ownership of a sports team (spiritual ownership by the fans, legal ownership by the businessman) takes the ultimate turn when Johnny makes a bold decision based on the bullish logic of the rich and powerful:  ‘If I buy a house, I can live in it.  If I buy a car, I can drive it. If I buy a company I can run it, even into bankruptcy. If I buy a major league baseball team, I can play on it’.
The story is told from the wry perspective of Johnny’s older brother, Frank, who has been charged with turning his sibling’s dreams into reality since they ran a lemonade stand as kids.  He provides the foil to Johnny’s headstrong ways and his organized, matter-of-fact attitude gives you the sense that, yes, he could put his brother’s plans into action, however outlandish they may be.
Like many good stories, it has a central element of truth to it that draws you in.  The dream turned into a nightmare of a rich owner buying up a sports team and doing whatever he wishes has been played out in real life many times before and will be countless times again.  Johnny’s brutal description of the Cubs fans who don’t like his methods, “a bunch of malcontent losers who don’t deserve a winning team”, could come from the mouths of plenty of other owners.
By strange coincidence, new owners have recently taken charge of the Chicago Cubs. If you see manager Lou Piniella wearing a pained expression as members of the Ricketts family sit alongside him in the Cubs’ dugout this season, don’t say you weren’t warned.
The other baseball-themed story takes us away from the hard-nosed land of MLB team ownership to the innocence of an eight-year-old Little League pitcher.  The first person narrative allows Wolfe to depict the kid’s daydreaming while up on the mound: “Rats! I walked him. What a chicken. Hmmm, I wonder what Mom’s planning for dinner?”. 
While he may be reflecting the mannerisms of his hero Mark Buehrle and other Big League pitchers as he stares in at the catcher, he’s not quite as in control as he would like you to believe: “I’m not sure, but I think he’s giving me a sign or sumpthin’. Or maybe he’s waving at his mom”. Reading his thoughts, we recognise the state of trying to be confident and assured on the outside, while having little clue on the inside.  We’ve all been in that situation, although not necessarily up on a pitcher’s mound, and this short story captures that sensation brilliantly in just eight and a half pages.
The non-baseball stories are just as effective and entertaining, highlighting the different ways in which sports and games form a backdrop to life and bring people together.  We see the tensions and acting between relatives in ‘Backyard Bocce Ball’ as the main character’s older brother brings his new much-younger wife to a family get-together, and the way a father’s death lifts a burden from his two sons and brings new light to their relationship while shooting hoops in ‘H-O-R-S-E’.  And you’re guaranteed to squirm along to ‘Straight Shooter’, as a thirteen year old girl is given a sex education lesson by her grandfather at the pool hall (“Lucy was glad it was dark in here – she was sure her face was bright red. She’d never heard Grandpa Craig talk like this”).
It’s not strictly a baseball book, but the two baseball tales give me an excuse to review it here. Wolfe and Presman’s styles mesh together well and the overall mix of characters and settings makes this collection enjoyable to read from cover-to-cover, or to dip into one story at a time.

BullpenBrian (http://bullpenbrian.wordpress.com/ and http://bleacherreport.com/articles)
By Brian Corbin, March 15, 2010

If a 102-year championship drought won’t break your Cubs loyalty, what will?
James Wolfe and Mary Ann Presman explore such a scenario in their newest book titled Curse? There Ain’t No Stinking Cub Curse and Other Stories about Sports and Gamesmanship.
Like a top-of-the-rotation dynamo, Wolfe & Presman pitch eleven clever, humorous and imaginative short stories ranging from the Cubs’ Curse to habitual swearing on the golf course!
Not only will you laugh out loud, but you’ll also reflect on some of the toughest questions we often forget to ask ourselves as fans and sportsmen.

How, in fact, would you react if Tom Ricketts raised ticket prices into the thousands, installed an exploding scoreboard in center field and sold the naming rights to Wrigley Field? Would you still come out to Wrigleyville?
What if Ricketts cut a player to put himself on the 40-man roster?  Would such outlandish behavior from the owner be tolerated? Or would remaining a Cubs fan simply be too much to handle?
And what if, in addition to Ricketts’ buffoonery, he also brought the Cubs its first World Championship since 1908. Is that all one needs to stomach a high-faulting, showboating, son-of-a-bitch owner of the Chicago Cubs?
Not sure? Read the book to get your answer! I got mine with many chuckles along the way, too!
Curse? There Ain’t No Stinking Cub Curse and Other Stories about Sports and Gamesmanship has reached as high as No. 4 on Amazon’s sports genre best selling list.

WAIT ‘TIL THIS YEAR (http://waittilthisyear.blogspot.com/) A blog dedicated to coverage and analysis of the Chicago Cubs along with observations on other teams and random nonsense.
By Brandon Christol, March 16, 2010

The first two stories in "Curse? There Ain’t No Stinking Chicago Cub Curse" find the Chicago Cubs making a run toward the World Series and a man named Henry Crawford going on a lucky streak at a blackjack table. If you know me at all, you know I loved the beginning of this book.

There are many reasons to participate in sports and games: to try to win the World Series, to pass the time at a family gathering, or as the background to a first date, just to name a few. James Wolfe and Mary Ann Presman explore these and many other reasons that people engage in friendly—and sometimes not-so-friendly—competition in a collection of 11 short stories (four by Wolfe, seven by Presman) that’s sure to bring a smile to your face if you’ve ever played Scrabble, tried to master golf, or dabbled in almost any other competitive activity.

The book’s first story is by far its longest. In it, we find that the Cubs have a new head honcho, Johnny, and that he’s not your typical MLB owner. Johnny purchased the Cubs because 1) he loves the team, and 1a) he thinks that being the owner might enable him to throw on a uniform and get some major league playing time. He operates the team with the help of his loyal but outspoken brother Frank, the narrator of the story and the lifelong brains behind Johnny’s bravado.

Johnny makes George Steinbrenner look like Ebenezer Scrooge as he immediately lures the game’s premiere manager and stockpiles many of its most expensive players. How does he afford it? With billboards at Wrigley—rather, at Goldman Sachs Field—fireworks nights, and hefty increases in concession prices. With Johnny’s free-spending methods vaulting the Cubs into a comfortable lead, Johnny harasses the manager to find playing time for—Johnny.

A low draft pick years earlier with a professional career that fizzled quickly, Johnny obviously hasn’t let go of his childhood dream. Johnny weasels his way into a couple blowout games, which baseball’s commissioner does not find amusing. There’s no doubt Johnny causes his share of headaches, but he’s doing so as the Cubs sit atop the division standings. So Cubs fans are left to debate: is the dream of a potential World Series ring worth the nightmare of Johnny’s style of ownership? The story’s timing couldn’t be better as the real-life Cubs embark on a 2010 campaign under new ownership.

Two of Wolfe’s stories deal with a game that is as frustrating for almost everyone who plays it as baseball can be for Cubs fans: golf. “If profanity improved the golf game” brings us Jack, a “straight-laced, God-fearing CPA” who looks down on the friends in his foursome for their contributions to a troubling “trend of acceptable language in society in general.” But when Jack accidentally lets the s-word slip after a bad bunker shot and it leads to a sand save followed by a birdie on the next hole, his M.O. changes dramatically. If only this simple solution worked for all of us hackers out there …

While Wolfe’s stories deal with baseball and golf, Mary Ann Presman takes the reader on a scenic route of less popular—but no less enjoyable—games. I laughed at Sylvia, the cranky middle-aged woman who takes a traditional Mother’s Day game of bocce ball way too seriously: “She was in favor of strictly enforcing the rules and playing her best, even when the game was ‘Candyland.’ … It prepared the kids better for the real world.”

I cringed as 13-year-old Lucy agreed to an innocent game of pool with her grandfather at the local pool hall, only to find herself on the listening end of her most straightforward sex talk to date: “Just ‘cause a guy gets all hot and bothered whenever you come into view doesn’t mean he’s hopelessly in love and wants to marry you … It just means he’s got a hard-on and you can give him great pleasure by taking care of it.”

And I was touched by the seemingly innocuous game of H-O-R-S-E between Neal and his younger brother Teddy, a game played just after Neal’s return from Iraq on the heels of their father’s death: "Teddy stepped back a few paces, bouncing the ball. He stopped, clenched the ball. ‘But I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from here?’
‘Away from Dad maybe. But not this place.’

Curse? is a quick read, and an enjoyable one. Whether Wolfe and Presman are exploring sports as power, as diversion, as tradition, or as a way to connect, they draw you in with their unique characters and engaging narrators. The short story format enables them to traverse a variety of sports and games and to analyze some of the many ways in which people compete with one another. Whether you’re a sports addict, you enjoy the occasional game, or you just like a good story, Curse? will have something for you.

Excerpt from

How to Rig the NCAA Basketball Championship for Fun and Profit

I didn’t expect my many years experience as a college basketball referee making bogus calls to prepare me for rigging the National Collegiate Athletic Association Championship game.

First there would be the oppressive pressure of the whole world watching and the possibility that if I screwed up, I might end up in jail or with my feet cast in concrete on the bottom of some out of the way body of water. And second, the best laid plans are sometimes foiled by the players who refuse to stick to their expected roles. I mean, these are just kids who often defy expectations, performing either better or worse than what past performance would indicate. There are no guarantees in this fixing business, regardless of what Switchblade thinks.

You can foul-out the entire starting lineup and the second string can come in and blow away the opposition. The best player on the floor can have an off-night, tossing up brick after brick, scoring five instead of his usual 25. Choking is a big part of the sport. This isn’t the PGA where the fans are so quiet for a meaningless three-foot putt by Tiger Woods that you can hear a tee drop on a plush putting green. We’re talking about 18-year-old kids on the foul-line with 30,000 hysterical fans screaming and waving banners and millions more watching on national television. Unfathomable amounts of dollars are commonly on the line for a player’s school and maybe for himself if he’s good enough for the pros and can handle the pressure. Anything can happen.

Defying the odds, Hampton College, a private school of less than 5,000 students, wound its way through the tournament with miraculous buzzer-beating wins against heavy favorites to face mighty Texas State for the championship. A classic David versus Goliath. A match-up made in marketing heaven.

The Hampton team of unknowns—its tallest player was only six-feet-seven inches—employed a three guard offense that excelled in shooting three-pointers. Its route to the final game was more suspenseful than a Tom Clancy novel, two games won in overtime and the other three by a total of seven points. I think the crowds pushed them over the top in several of their cliffhangers. There hasn’t been a crowd favorite like Hampton since Larry Bird’s Indiana State in 1979.

Texas State, on the other hand, was ranked number one all season and crushed their tournament opponents with incredible inside action. All three of the front line, two measuring six-feet-ten and one at seven-feet three inches tall, would play in the NBA the following year. They won their five tournament games by a total of 85 points, and were never in serious trouble. The line was Texas State by 12, the largest margin for the final game in memory and the betting was lopsided for State.

But Hampton was my pick. Why? Because twelve points provided lots of room for me to maneuver. Hampton was the overwhelming favorite of the media and fans which would provide cover for any bad calls I might have to make. Some quick fouls on State’s big boys would even the odds. The game looked like a natural for my methods.

The match-up was so good that I bet one million smackers of my own money earned from past point shaving efforts. I was surprised when my bookie, Flip, said he had to think about taking a bet of that size. “What? Not consult with Switchblade? I thought Switchblade was your boss.”

Flip responded with a tiny smile that indicated I had their roles reversed. Even though Flip referred to Switchblade as the boss, the reality was the opposite. They played the good guy/bad guy roles to perfection, with Flip making all the decisions in a firm, but friendly way and Switchblade providing the fear factor. Flip didn’t need Switchblade’s or anyone else’s approval. He was simply buying time to analyze how accepting my bet would affect his profits. It was one hell of an opportunity. He and his organization would make a staggering amount of money. My bet, although huge by my standards, would be dwarfed by and buried within his worldwide action. Of course if we lost, Flip would be more than unhappy and lose that same staggering amount of money. He would rely on Switchblade, the bad side of the good guy/bad guy team, to guarantee that I deliver the game, no matter what happened on the floor. As Switchblade said, “If you hafta foul out da whole goddamn team to win, you do it.”

Flip didn’t analyze for long. An opportunity like this didn’t come along very often. “What the hell. I’ll take the bet,” he said. I think he accepted my bet as one additional incentive for me to deliver the game, as if Switchblade’s “We’ll Kill ya,” threat wasn’t enough.

A successful mission would net me a million bucks for the bet and another million payment for making sure Hampton beat the spread. The two million would give me a comfortable nest egg of around five million dollars, plenty of dough for my life on the beach of some tropical paradise.

How to get published for the first time

About twelve years ago I contacted several publishers and a couple of literary agents about some ideas I had for novels. I got no interest. Zip, zero, nada. When I asked why, I was surprised to learn they didn’t care if the ideas were any good. The only reason for the lack of interest in my ideas was that I’d never been published before. I inquired about how I could get published if no one would talk to me if I weren’t published. The response from everyone I asked was, said in various ways, “That’s your problem.” A classic “Catch 22?” I’d rate this situation more than 22. Maybe “Catch 25,” or maybe even 30.

So I had to come up with a book idea so compelling to break out or this conundrum. One that even the most reluctant publisher would believe was marketable and would make some money. So I compiled a list of quotations, all concerning everybody’s favorite topic, sex. I named the raunchy compilation Sex Talk. The first publisher I sent the manuscript to bought it.

The quotes were selected on the basis of humor, entertainment value and the credentials of the author. Groucho Marx, Mae West type quotes. Raunchy, funny stuff about sex.

The net result was that I not only found a publisher, but I made some money. While not making it to the top of the New York Times best seller list, it sold enough to warrant a sequel, More Sex Talk, and was reprinted in 6 foreign countries. And it got me past the publishing “Catch 22.” People would now talk to me about other book ideas. A few agents even called, wanting to get in on the Sex Talk action.

Housekeeping

The web site is a work in process. The photos do not do justice to the T-shirts. Little Balls, Big Dreams is printed on the back. Trust me. The T-shirts are cool. The golf balls, with Little Balls, Big Dreams inscribed on them, are now in stock and other neat stuff following soon.

If anyone has any suggestions about this web site or anything else, except my golf game, e-mail me at james@jameswolfebooks.com.