Jeff ernos greatest hits, p.102
Jeff Erno's Greatest Hits, page 102
We had just finished preparing the salads for the dinner and were now standing in the kitchen. We had set all the tables and folded the napkins. There were four other students who would be serving with us. The main course entrée was either prime rib or roasted chicken. As we served the salads and rolls, we were to ask each guest which entrée they preferred, and then, of course, later serve it to them.
Elaine had already assured me that I would not have to serve Brett’s or Coach McDonald’s tables. As I peeked into the auditorium, I realized that they were both sitting at the same table, up toward the front. Brett’s parents were at the same table. Apparently Mr. Willson was a good friend of Coach McDonald, which was probably why he’d been so quick to dismiss Litzenfowler a few weeks ago.
While we were serving, I was very careful to remain at the back of the auditorium, waiting on only the tables in the rear. I didn’t even look up to see if Brett was aware of my presence, though he was the only thing on my mind the whole time. It took about forty-five minutes before we finally had all of the entrees served, and it was then already time to start clearing. After we cleared, we basically had to just mingle through the crowd, refilling waters and coffees, while the awards presentation was in progress.
My sarcastic remark to Brett about the awards ceremony being merely an opportunity for the jocks to pat themselves on the back proved to be very much true. Honestly, it was quite sickening, as Coach McDonald and the athletic director called each recipient forward, droning on and on about how remarkable their performance had been. Brett received recognition several times. He had broken the single-season passing record, and had been named all-state in football as well as varsity baseball. He also was recognized when they called the entire football team forward to receive their awards for winning the division championship.
We were two hours into the evening and had almost all of the tables cleared when Coach McDonald finally stood at the podium to announce that it was his honor to now present the final award of the evening. I audibly released a sigh of relief, thanking God it would soon be over.
“Every year the athletic department of Boyne City High takes the time to painstakingly review the performance of all its participants in virtually every sporting event category….” I wondered how long it had taken that buffoon to memorize those polysyllabic words. “… and we single out one particular athlete to recognize for outstanding performance. This year’s recipient is a young man whom I’ve had the privilege of working with since he was in middle school. He’s been our star quarterback for our championship football team, has gone all-state in both football and baseball, and holds all major passing records within our football division. Although he and I have had our ‘situations’ this past year where we didn’t always see eye to eye, I’m pleased to see not only the fine athlete he’s become but also the outstanding young man he is, as well. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating our athlete of the year, Boyne’s very own hero, Brett Willson!”
The room burst into enthusiastic applause as it suddenly became clear to me why Brett had made such a point to tell us about the sports banquet. He probably suspected he would be up for this award and wanted to show off in front of me. What a fuckin’ ass. It was almost more than I could take as I picked up a carafe of water and headed back toward the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks, though, when I heard his voice.
“Thank you. Thank you very much.” His voice didn’t sound confident and cocky, as I’d expected it would. I almost laughed, realizing he had a case of stage fright. I turned back around, suddenly wanting to witness the spectacle. “I’m honored to be recognized with this award,” he continued. “I know that in most cases this award is presented to seniors, and I’m only a junior. Believe me, I’m very much aware of the fact that I have competed with some outstanding athletes here at Boyne, and it’s really an honor to be chosen from such a pool of candidates.”
Oh, Christ, this was obviously a rehearsed speech. Brett didn’t talk like that. I turned back around and headed again toward the kitchen doors.
“Wait!” he said. The entire audience looked at him, puzzled, many turning to look in my direction, trying to figure out to whom he was addressing his command. “Please wait!” he repeated, almost imploringly. I stopped and turned to look at him as he stood behind the podium, now trembling.
“I want to say something,” he then said, “that’s not a part of what I’d planned on saying…. Oh God!” He sighed heavily into the microphone. “I don’t deserve this award, and I’m not going to accept it.” Coach McDonald stepped toward him, making a move to interrupt him, perhaps thinking it was simply undue modesty on Brett’s part. Brett held his hand up, motioning for him to keep his distance.
“Coach McDonald just introduced me as being a ‘hero’. Well, I have to tell you honestly, this is not true. I’m no hero. I may be a pretty good athlete, but there’s nothing heroic about it.” Tears streaked his cheeks as he continued. “Two and a half months ago, a teacher in this school was fired. I’m sure many of you know about the situation; the teacher is Alan Litzenfowler, an English teacher who graduated from Boyne and came back to teach for the past three years. I bet a lot of people here think I must’ve been pretty happy to see him go. He really busted my chops in his class; I actually failed freshman grammar twice under him. But you’re wrong if you think that I wanted him fired. Mr. Litzenfowler was fired not because he was a bad teacher, but because he was different.
“Last fall, one of our fellow students died suddenly and tragically. I’m sure that in this size town, most of you know the details. This student killed himself. He did so because he was different. Every single day of his life he was ridiculed, made fun of, picked on—by jocks like me… and you.” He looked out into the audience.
“I’m not a hero,” he repeated. “I stood by while these things happened and did nothing. I saw one of our Campus Life group leaders expelled from her church because she was different too. Even then I said nothing. Then finally I gave up the one person in my life that I love with all of my heart, just because I was afraid all of you would think I’m different as well. I am different!”
I stared up at Brett, my mouth agape, and began taking small steps up the center aisle to get closer to him at the podium. I had set down the carafe and was holding my hands up to my chin, on the verge of trembling myself.
“I am gay.” The entire audience seemed stunned, and Brett’s parents stared up at him in shocked disbelief. Tim Williams sat at an adjacent table with his date and stared, his mouth open even wider than my own. Poor Mandy Myers, Brett’s date for the evening, was now slouching in her seat.
“For so long we’ve tried to pretend that gay people don’t exist in our community. We’ve lived our lives in a way that makes it easy to simply pretend we don’t know anyone who is ‘that way’. Well, I want to tell you something: there are plenty of us who are that way, myself included.
“I’m standing here tonight asking for forgiveness. I’m sorry for all of the lies, for all the times I’ve crawled off in the corner and hidden instead of standing up for what I know is right. I’m sorry most of all for abandoning the one person who actually made it possible for me to even continue playing sports in the first place.
“It’s with great honor that I humbly turn over this trophy to the person who really does deserve it, my hero: Jeff Irwin.” He picked up the trophy and held it out in front of him, as if handing it to me. He looked at me then, directly in the eye, mouthing the words, I love you, sport.
From the very back of the room, I heard Elaine as she started to applaud, and a few others in the crowd joined her, some getting to their feet. Most of the audience remained seated in stunned silence as Brett descended from the stage and walked toward me, then handed me the statue he was holding. I looked up at him through my tears as he reached in his tuxedo pocket and removed the gold necklace. He gently reached around my neck and clasped the chain as I stood there staring up into his beautiful face.
Not even looking, I held the trophy to my side, then let it fall to the floor and wrapped my arms around his neck as he grabbed me around my waist and kissed me, right there in front of God and everyone.
Epilogue
Dear Alan,
Wanted to drop you a congratulatory line on your recent promotion. Brett and I heard through the grapevine that you’re now chief of staff at the university. We’re very happy for you and Tom both. Please let us know how Tom is enjoying his position at the network. I see him on television occasionally when Brett is watching one of his football games.
We just shared a wonderful weekend with our friends Terry and Paul. Terry is an old friend of Brett’s whom we have known for many years. He and his partner Paul met when they attended college at the very university where you’re now teaching.
Brett and I love it here in Florida, though we’re thinking of selling our place. It’s getting just too small for us, especially with the two kids. Adam is now seven and Lisa is ten. Starting a family was the most wonderful thing we ever did. Brett’s consulting business is doing remarkably well, and I’m enjoying my job at the high school. It’s just like you told me, rewarding because of the students.
Brett’s parents are supposed to be down for a visit next month, and they’re taking the kids over to Busch Gardens. I might be able to con his mom into skipping out with me and going shopping instead. They always go way overboard with the kids, spoiling them like there’s no tomorrow. The joys of grandparenting, huh?
We look forward to hearing from you soon and hope you can come down sometime this winter. I know Boston sometimes gets pretty nasty around that time of year.
Be true to yourself.
Love,
Jeff and Brett
Questions & Answers
THIS novel, Dumb Jock, was the first story I had ever seriously written. Upon its completion, I was unsure what, if anything, I would do with it. I ended up posting it on the Internet. To my surprise, I was deluged with feedback via e-mail, and eventually the story was posted along with subsequent writings of mine on my own website.
Amongst the feedback I received were a plethora of questions about myself and the characters within the story. I will attempt to answer some of the commonly posed questions here.
How old were you when you wrote Dumb Jock?
I began writing Dumb Jock in 1999, when I was thirty-two. The impetus for this endeavor was the passing of my mother, who died in a manner identical to the mother of the story’s central character.
Is the story autobiographical?
I guess you could say that Dumb Jock is semiautobiographical, although the plot is entirely fictional. The central character Jeff Irwin resembles the high-school-age version of me in many ways, although I must admit that he ultimately possesses all of the courage and loyalty that I sincerely wish I’d had back then. I suppose you could say he’s the hero within me that I always wanted to be. The setting of the story is identical to my own life, occurring at exactly the same time and place as my real-life high school experience.
Who were the inspirations for your characters?
Literally every character within the story is based upon my perception of someone I knew in real life, had seen in a movie, or had read about in a book. The real-life inspirations were people I had encountered not just in high school but also from other times in my life.
Was there a Brett Willson in your life when you were in high school?
There was indeed a jock named Bret in high school, to whom I offered tutoring services. He looked and sounded exactly like the Brett in the story, although I have virtually no reason to believe he was gay. I did have a wild crush on him, and as I got older, I allowed myself to imagine what it would have been like if he had also been gay and in love with me.
Since your characters are based on real people, why did you choose to leave out some of the most significant people within your life?
The story is not an autobiography or memoir. I didn’t choose people based on their significance to me or on the impact they’d had on my life. As I continue to write, I find more and more opportunities to incorporate the facets of real-life personalities into my fictional characters.
Doesn’t it worry you that the negative actions and personality traits of some of your characters might offend the real-life people upon which these characters are based?
Frankly, yes. However, when I wrote this story, I was trying to convey the perceptions and feelings of a fifteen-year-old kid—a kid who saw things the way most teenagers do, in black-and-white terms. When I was in high school, it was easy for me to view my father as a complete failure who had virtually no love for me. Although I grew up and eventually healed my relationship with my dad, I wanted to demonstrate through the fictional Jeff the depth of pain and confusion I had felt as a teenager.
Which events within the story were real?
The story is fiction, and none of the events are real; however, many elements of the story were based upon realities of my own life. My mother’s death was included in the story. The expulsion of a Campus Life counselor from my church because she was gay is an event that sadly also happened in my own life. My father’s stroke, recovery, and separation from my mother are identical to what was portrayed in the story. The portrayal of the high school gym class is identical to reality. I did own a black Labrador named Reggie.
Is Boyne City, Michigan really such a small-minded homophobic place as the story depicts?
Boyne City is a beautiful, welcoming four-season resort paradise. Within my heart it will always be my home, and I love it immensely. Homophobia exists within Boyne City as it does in all small towns (and cities, for that matter). Bear in mind that the setting of the story is early eighties, before we ever saw Ellen or Will and Grace. Even Elton John was still in the closet back then, and AIDS wasn’t even talked about yet. I now know several openly gay people who live comfortably in Boyne City, and when I became an adult, I raised my nephew in that town, sending him to the very same Boyne City High School.
Why would you find it appropriate to promote open homosexuality by using very young teenagers such as those in your story?
I came to the realization of my own sexual orientation at the very same age as did the fictional Jeff, yet sadly I wasn’t comfortable enough with who I was to come out of the closet until I was in my twenties. As an adult I became very active with the organization PFLAG and was privileged to meet several teenagers who actually did have the courage to come out young. I spent a great deal of time contemplating how my high school experience would have been different had I been like them, brave enough to be true to myself from the beginning. My intention is not to promote homosexuality, open or otherwise. I do, however, hope that the notion that people of all sexual orientations can live and love together without condemnation, and it is one that I proudly promote with both this story and my own real life.
Why’d you choose to present Jeff Irwin as being such a wimp who was crying all the time?
Jeff Irwin is a character who is both highly sensitive and hyper emotional, and so am I. Is this annoying? Hell yes! He’s also very young, and my intention was to portray a character who was in some ways extremely mature for his age while at the same time lacking maturity emotionally. If you finish the story and still regard Jeff Irwin as a wimp, then I failed, because you don’t get the story. For nineteen chapters, the dumb jock Brett appears to be the hero, but in the end it’s wimpy Jeff who is the strongest.
Why a happy ending? That’s not even realistic!
Sorry, but I love happy endings. I understand that from a literary standpoint, when the central character defies the establishment, he must leave the scene in the end. I couldn’t bring myself to end it this way, however, so I instead included an epilogue. Hopefully the two deaths, divorce, excommunication, and unfair firing which were included in the story are enough tragedies to satisfy those of you who are diehard realists.
What’s up with the dominant/submissive nature of this relationship? Doesn’t that contradict the central theme of the story?
The story is about how hero worship evolves into love. The closer Jeff came to loving and accepting himself, the less submissive he was. The more Brett grew to love Jeff, the less dominant and controlling he was. My personal belief is that within a character like Jeff Irwin there will always be a submissive side that yearns for security and protection, yet at the same time there’s no reason he can’t possess the self-confidence to view himself as an equal to his partner. By the same token, there will always be a protective nature within a character like Brett, who instinctively gravitates toward shielding his loved ones from harm, yet he also understands that it’s okay to draw support and strength from his partner. I see no contradiction.
Will you write more stories? What kind?
I’ve subsequently published seventeen novels and short stories.
JEFF ERNO began writing in the early 1990s. Originally his work was posted on a free, amateur website, where it was eventually discovered and published. He writes gay-themed stories that span several sub-genres including young adult, m/m romance, gay fiction, BDSM, and sci-fi.
Until recently, Erno worked as a retail store manager but now writes full time. He currently resides in southern Michigan. He loves animals, particularly cats, and enjoys reading, movies, theater, country-western music, community service, political activism, and cake decorating.
Website: http://www.jefferno.com
By JEFF ERNO
Choosing America’s Next Superstar
