Today I chat with Mark St. Amant, who has been gaining fans with his combination of memoir and sportswriting with his book Committed: Confessions of a Fantasy Football Junkie and also the recently release Just Kick It: Tales of an Underdog, Over-Age, Out-of-Place Semi-Pro Football Player

Any advice on writing about sports in order to make it appealing to as many readers as possible? Include a prison-style post-game shower scene. Oh, I'm kidding. Settle down. No, first, I made sure not to re-cap every single play of every single game. That could have gotten real boring, real fast, turning every game chapter into a ten-page newspaper box score. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. That said, I also had to detail at least some part of every game - this was about a football season, after all, and lest we forget, football games happen during football season -- so what worked for me was simply highlighting the big scoring drives, the big defensive stops, the major coaching moves and key plays, etc., and (hopefully) helping the reader feel like he or she is actually at the game. But more than that, I focused on the plays that correlated best with/best exemplified traits or personalities of the individual players/characters, or helped perpetuate any running story lines, what have you. So, while it is a sports book, admittedly, the story goes beyond mere sports or games, and I always tried to make it more about the men playing in the games than about the games themselves. And that's what, I've been told, makes Just Kick It an atypical "sports book" - because it focuses as much, if not more, on the relationships between the "characters"/players and on their off-the-field lives as it does on the game of football itself.

On the flip side, for lack of a better word, there is a lot of
heartwarming material in your book: how did you write this and keep it natural without being treacly?That was a tough line to walk, you're right, especially considering the subject(s). But I didn't start out with any preconceived notions of how I wanted the story to end because that would have affected how I acted toward my teammates/coaches and, I can only assume, how they would have acted toward me. I think that if you purposely set out to write something heartwarming, inspirational and/or uplifting, you'll end up veering off into schmaltz-ville and you'll come off as a phony with a hollow, clichéd story. Life isn't a Disney movie. Sometimes, in real life, the underdog gets his ass kicked and people don't end up arm-in-arm, swaying and singing "We Are the World" (If the book were the We Are the World video, however, I'd definitely be Akroyd.) And since this book is about real life and how football fits in, I wasn't going to shoe horn in a Disney-esque vibe. So I just tried to report everything as honestly as I could, to not get preachy or overly analytical about what went on, and hope that people would relate. And I expected men to relate because of the football theme and its ability to, perhaps, bring them back to past (or current) sports glories. But, frankly, I've been pleased that many women have told me how flabbergasted they were that a "sports book" could strike such a stereotypical "female" (i.e. emotional) chord, and that the players' stories and lives, and the relationships that developed thanks to football, helped them get past another stereotype - that sports books are just for men. That was great to hear.

Do you miss anything about advertising? Actually, I'm back in advertising. My books are doing OK and all, and I'll never stop writing my own stuff, but one also has to consider things like health insurance and a steady paycheck when a little baby St. Amant comes along (we had a little girl in July). Luckily, I found a way to combine my 24-7 love of sports with an actual job: I've returned to Arnold Worldwide -- a great agency in Boston where I've been employed on three separate occasions -- working on parts of the ESPN account. So, while I get a regular paycheck, I can also goof off on sports web sites all day and call it "work." But I don't see advertising as a creative "consolation prize" or a concession of some sort. Some of the most talented, creative people I know work on my hallway, and the creative vibe here at Arnold has only made my "other" writing that much better. And this agency has been very supportive of my "other" career, too, letting me slip out for TV interviews or other book-related events whenever I need to, so it couldn't be a better situation. Plus, last holiday party, I got real drunk and had an orgy with Betty Crocker, Mrs. Butterworth, the Where's the Beef? lady, and some of the Keebler elves. It was wild.

Have you done or will you be doing much travel writing in the near future? What did you learn from writing about your experience living in Italy? Funny you mention that. I'm starting to tinker with my third book, and one potential topic is our time living in Italy. Back story: Two months after getting married, not to mention a mere nine days after the 9/11 attacks, my brand new wife and I moved to Florence, Italy, where we barely spoke the language and knew not one soul. Right. Good idea, guys. But it's not a travelogue, and I wouldn't even consider it "travel writing." Rather, it'll likely be more of a marriage/relationship-logue in which the couple just happens to travel, and they quickly, almost accidentally find themselves in "marriage boot camp." After all, no one ever tells you how flat-out difficult the first year of marriage can be, something we would have appreciated hearing prior to almost killing each other against the stunning Tuscan backdrop. Writing-wise, however, what our stint in Italy taught me was that if I made the time, I actually did have the capacity and self-motivation to write something that someone, somewhere might want to read. I wrote a full "book" in those six months -- a haphazard collection of rambling travel stories, truth be told -- and even though, looking back, it was kind of a mess, a typical "first effort" that I look back on with the same amused embarrassment as I do my the night I lost my virginity, I did manage to get one chapter -- about our insane Japanese, possibly coke-addled, clog-dancing upstairs neighbor -- published in an annual travel/humor anthology. So it just gave me that little glimmer of hope that I might be able to write for a living. I also learned that Italians won't think twice about running you over with a Vespa and that, while hiking in the hills of northern Tuscany, if you feel the earth rumbling, smell wet fur and hear snorting, that's a stampede of wild boar and you probably should run. Fast.

Did you get involved in semipro football in order to write the book? How did you write about something you were actively involved in--would you take notes? Go home right away and write? No. I never, ever planed to actually, physically play football as I began book research. I'd played soccer, had dabbled in some pickup Nerf games in the backyard as a kid, and was a decent athlete. But I'd never played Pop Warner, high school or any other level of organized football. Even as late as the night before my first game, I barely knew to put on shoulder pads. So, I started out just planning to write a book on this under-publicized but ubiquitous level of football - semi-pro ball is everywhere, more than 800 teams from Maine to Hawaii in virtually every city and cow town - and do so from the stands. At a safe distance. An impartial observer. But then an interview subject, a veteran player/team official, having learned that I'd played soccer, suggested I try out as the team's kicker (they'd never really had one). I, of course, thought he was insane, and sort of chuckled a "yeah, sure, maybe I'll do that." But my "inner Plimpton" quickly got the better of me: I'd likely get a more interesting book from inside the huddle. This was not a simple decision, however, considering I was (A) almost 40; (B) small (5'8", 160 lbs soaking wet); (C) totally inexperienced (see above shoulder pad reference); and (D) the very definition of outsider: the team was all black/Latino from Boston's toughest inner-city, while I was suburban-raised lily-white prep school boy.

As for taking notes, etc., carrying a note pad and pen and/or mini tape recorder wouldn't have gone over well (and wouldn't have fit in my tight football pants anyway). So, yes, I'd keep pad/recorder in my car and, after a practice or game, would record/jot down re-caps of the major conversations or developments, and then elaborate on them later when I got back on my laptop. Despite the clear onset of senility as I approach 40, I've somehow maintained a pretty good memory when it comes to conversations and other important details -- I've always believed it's my brain's way of making up for my never being able to do math, which I always failed miserably in school) -- so nothing much, if anything, got lost in translation between the games/practices and the laptop. But even if my memory was sieve-like, I would have done it the way I did -- casually, not acting like a reporter or interviewer, sticking a microphone in their faces - because it just helped me fit in more seamlessly. That way, I pretty quickly morphed from a writer who was trying to play football into a football player who was trying to write.