Jeff Erno - Dumb Jock,
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Dumb Jock
Jeff Erno
Xlibris
February 2009
Introduction
My entire life it has been a dream of mine to share a story. Although I'm not deluded
enough to think that my first written work will be a literary masterpiece, I do hope that in
some small way it touches the lives of some of the people who graciously choose to read
it. This is completely a tale of fiction, and the characters within are not in any way
intended to represent any real life persons. Although the story is set in the very same
northern Michigan town where I was raised, the people that I have implanted into this
real-life town are not the people I knew as a young boy of fourteen. Many of my own
feelings and experiences are included in the story of this fictitious boy, but his family and
friends are all fabricated. The central character of the story, Jeff Irwin, is not the author
and never really existed. This is not an autobiography.
It is my hope that the residents of Boyne City, Michigan, who read the story will find
truth in the descriptions of this beautiful and quaint town and will understand some of the
struggles and fears that a shy, inhibited, gay youth may face while growing up here. The
setting of the story is early 1980's and is very pointedly pre-AIDS. No mention of AIDS
or the HIV retrovirus is included in the story, and this is deliberate.
A fourteen year old boy becomes sexually active in this story when he falls in love with
another boy. It is not my intention to promote or condone any particular sexual
expression or behavior, but rather to simply relate a story about love, admiration, and
genuine friendship. This is a story which deals with same-sex love but also touches upon
the love and forgiveness that exists within a family. It is about how a community of
people are exposed to a variation of love that they have never been willing to
acknowledge. It is about facing our own fears, understanding one another, and most
importantly, about finding strength within ourselves to handle things far greater than we
would have ever expected ourselves to be able to handle.
Even if this work were to go totally unnoticed, and never read by another soul, I am
thankful to have had the opportunity to write it. It has allowed me the privilege of
fulfilling my greatest lifetime ambition, and I owe a debt of gratitude to those who have
supported me in this endeavor. I sincerely hope that the book itself will be viewed not so
much as a coming out or coming of age story, but more a story of growth - learning to
find a way to love ourselves for who we are, rather than for what we accomplish or how
we are perceived.
Chapter 1
In high school I was such a geek. I was sort of the egghead type, always reading or
studying, maintaining a perfect GPA. It really wasn't so much that I was nerdy, per se,
but that I had a reputation for being "smart". Really I honestly don't think that I was (or
am) all that smarter than my peers; I simply applied myself, always doing exactly what I
was "supposed" to do. Perhaps it was simply that my area of success was focused in
academia rather than sports, and perhaps that is why I was so attracted to, jealous of, and
in total awe of the athletic "jock" types.
One such jock, Brett Willson, was in two of my classes, including freshmen English
(even though he himself was a junior). He had not fared well his first two times around
and was making a final attempt to get a passing grade. If he did not at least achieve a D-,
he would be forced to give up his position as quarterback of the varsity football team.
Had the coach and phys ed teacher had his way, Brett would have been automatically
granted his passing grade simply to ensure his spot on the team; however, there was a
bitter rivalry between the freshman English teacher and the athletic department. The
English teacher, Mr. Litzenfowler, had virtually no affinity for sports and no sympathy
for the jocks who struggled in his class.
I, on the other hand, was the apple of Litzenfowler's eye. Not only was I acing his class
but could have virtually stepped in to take his place teaching it. I wish that I'd fared that
well in all of my classes, being that math, English, and science were not the only
prerequisites for graduation. I also had to not only pass in phys ed, but to maintain an
above- average grade in order to keep my GPA at scholarship level. I knew from the buzz
around school that McDonald, the gym teacher and football coach, would give any
student who showed up and got dressed for class at least a B grade, so that part was no
problem (other than the embarrassment of changing in the locker room in front of the
buff jocks). But I really, really wanted to achieve a higher grade than just a B.
I was so intimidated by McDonald to begin with, even though I considered him to be a
big oafish moron, but he was so boisterous and so often said humiliating things to me in
front of the entire class. He did nothing to discourage the jocks from ridiculing me, in fact
it was as if he enjoyed it, so when he called me into his office one day during open gym
time, I about crapped myself. We were only into the third week of my freshmen year. For
the most part I felt insignificant in his presence. He acted like I did not even exist. The
only time he did notice me was when I did some stupid maneuver during an activity in
his class, like say try to throw a ball or something.
When I walked into his office I was not sure what to expect. I felt my guts getting all tied
up and my knees starting to feel wobbly. He just stared at me and motioned for me to sit
down. I gratefully accepted the offer of a chair because I was sure that by this time I was
visibly trembling. So I sat there, nervously looking down. I never have been able to look
a dominant man in the eye--not unless instructed to, that is.
"You probably are wonderin what I called you in here for" he said. All that I could think
of was that you should never end a sentence with a preposition, but I simply answered
"Yes, sir."
"Well I want to talk to you about Brett Willson."
I gulped and looked up at him finally. I was thinking Brett must have accused me of
something. Maybe it was another practical joke that he and the other jocks were playing
on me. Sometimes they would steal my book bag and it would end up on the roof, or they
would put signs on my back, but now I suspected it was a more elaborate scheme. I was
probably going to be blamed for something that I did not even do.
I just stared at the coach and he continued. "Brett is my star quarterback you know?...
Well actually you probably don't know. Do you even know what a quarterback is, son?"
I laughed nervously and responded, "Yes sir. He's the one who calls the shots during the
games. Decides which plays to run."
"Well actually I am the one who calls the shots! But you get the idea. Anyways, he is
very good in his position. Shit, he is the best quarterback this school has seen in the past
fifteen years,and we have a damned good shot at taking the regional championship this
year...if we have Brett, that is."
I grinned at him, as I was starting to understand that my fears of being in trouble were
probably baseless, and I said to him, "Well sir, then I'm very glad that you do have Brett
on the team. I really hope you win the championship."
He stared blankly at me, seeming annoyed that I had interrupted him and continued as if
I'd said nothing. "--well, Brett is gonna be the one to take us to victory this year...finally.
But if he loses his position on the team that will not be possible. Then we will be left with
only Franklin and Williams who are good...but not good enough."
"I'm sorry sir, but if he is so valuable to you, why would you even consider removing him
from his position as quarterback?"
"It's not me that would cut Willson from the team, kid. It is that annoying piss ant
Litzenfowler in the English department! Willson has crashed and burned in that class
twice already. If he doesn't get a passing grade this time, Brett will be removed from
athletics altogether."
"Oh," I said, "I'm sorry to hear that sir. But perhaps you could persuade Mr. Litzenfowler
to cut him some slack and at least give him a passing grade this time. He is a reasonable
man. I'm sure he'd understand."
"PFFFT! Reasonable my ass! I tried that route already. Got me nowhere. Litzenfucker
has always hated me and doesn't give two shits about the athletic department. He'd fail
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