Crashing cars and Saying Thank You
A roundup of stories, most recent plus some older, and a look at what to expect next in 2024.
In August 2004, I was twenty-one and home in Fremont, Ohio. On a Monday morning, I drove to a Sunoco gas station to pick up a newspaper and a coffee. I left with neither, back my parent’s Trailblazer into the island of one of the gas pumps, then (I think….) mistook the gas pedal for the brake, jumped a curb and a big, wide sidewalk.
Glass shattered. Racks of chips, pop (I was in Ohio), and snacks exploded. Root beer went up on the ceiling, glass shards were all about the floor, and the cashier had fled to hide in a backroom thinking I was there to rob the place. As for me, well, I was still sitting in the driver’s seat of that d**n Trailblazer while also inside the Sunoco convenience store.
The cops showed up, asked if I’d been drinking (I had not), surveyed the destroyed storefront, shook their heads, then hit me with the most deserved failure to control citation in history.
My mom came to pick me up in a friend’s car since hers was stuck inside the store and gave me a look of disbelief and disappointment I hope to never see again.
The newspaper asked for a comment. I gave none. They still ran a front-page story the next day under the headline, “The Glass Just Blew Up.”
Nineteen years later, I met the gas station’s owners at a big neighborhood party. “How the h**l did that happen?” They asked. “I honestly don’t know,” I said, then grabbed a Modelo and cried in a field.
Now, none of this has anything to do with what I’m sharing today. There are just a lot of new subscribers, so I thought I’d give everyone a look inside one of my not-so-favorite memories.
First, two shouts of gratitude.
Thank you to all the new subscribers for joining. It’s so fun to have you here.
Second, to all those who’ve been here a little while now, thank you for all the fun comments, engagement, and support. I hope the stories are enjoyable.
I thought this was a good moment to share a roundup of recent (plus some older) stories as a sort of “start here” guide for new subscribers and to try and steam some more views and likes from those who’ve been here longer to pad the stats.
Kidding aside, thank you for being part of what is such a joyful experience for me—writing, creating, storytelling, and sharing.
Here goes.
The Stories We Tell
There’s a scene in Stand by Me I’ve never been able to escape. As the movie ends, and right as the music starts, the main character captures everything about the friendship we’ve just experienced:
“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?” (at 2 minutes in the clip)
I was 9 or 10 the first time I saw Stand by Me. Even then, part of me knew what life’s experiences have taught me since: There’s a preciousness to this time and these moments, a specialness to the people who lived them with you, and a fleetingness to all of it.
Last May, I felt nostalgic and bought a six pack of Stroh’s because that’s what Grandpa kept on tap in the kegerator in his basement when I was young. The sun burned up in the sky, but it wasn’t too hot down below. I had the dogs with me, and all I wanted was to sit on our front porch, listen to 90’s music, and drink average beer.
I started writing stories that night about four friends who live in a small, Ohio town. They’re leaving fourth grade and heading into fifth. Stories about times spent sneaking into movies and arguing over baseball games. About chasing after ghosts, both the real ones we live with and those we only imagine.
Stories about summer days turning into fall nights. About a flag football season, the chance for redemption in a must-win end-of-season tournament, and the hopes young kids hold of becoming heroes under the gray skies of November Saturdays in the Midwest.
The stories are nostalgic and sentimental. They’re kids coming-of-age with the longing to become legends on fields of play. It’s The Wonder Years meets The Sandlot with some Friday Night Lights sprinkled in.
Here’s a link to all chapters.
And I recommend starting here and here.
Fathers, sons, sports, and life
My dad, former Michigan, and Denver Broncos running back Rob Lytle, died from a heart attack in 2010. He was just fifty-six. Dad was a great friend, mentor, coach, husband, and brother. Most importantly, he was a great father, someone who could look at you and grin - and somehow transform your day for the better. He still casts a mighty shadow, in football and in life.
There are moments, now, when I love football—for what it means to my past, my father, and my own life. And I write often about our relationship - the lessons learned on the gridiron, and the memories shared off it.
But, when Dad died, his body and brain had been sacrificed for his love for the game. So, there are moments, too, when I don't like the sport at all—for the devastation it doles out on players and their families and for the life it took from mine. I write about this love/hate relationship, too.
Here’s a few from the archives (most come with tears, along with the smiles):
We Leave Football, Football Never Leaves Us (published in USA Today)
Why We Watch Sports: Joy, Love, Pain, and the Rose Bowl (for you Michigan fans out there!)
To Dad, From Kelly (my memoir of lessons learned from Dad and questions left unasked and unanswered when he died)
Life stories with sentimentality and humor
I use writing and storytelling to “coach” myself to slow down, to feel the world and people around me, and appreciate the small, beautiful moments often overlooked.
The moments, though, that if we capture in our hearts can make us smile, too.
Heres' a few of these stories:
Saturdays in February and The Putback (for you basketball fans!)
Looking at Dogs with Strangers on Cracked Phones Part I and Part II (for the reflective souls)
What’s coming next?
The Stories We Tell
In January and February of 2024, we’re going to live in the Summer of '93.
This means stories of Ken Griffey Jr., backwards ball caps, and grand derbies to hit home runs. We’ll hear ghost stories, play ghost-in-the-graveyard, and endure moments of fright. Grandpa will drink Stroh’s. Grandma will sip Manhattans. And my friends and I will play baseball, make mixed tapes, and listen to some R&B.
Then, we’ll move into Fall ‘93 and the final stretch for four friends on their quest for a city-wide flag football championship.
It’ll be fun. Trust me.
Something brand new I’m working on that doesn’t have a title
The other big project is a podcast on football. More specifically, expanding the themes of my USA Today article to explore the juxtaposition of football’s violence with its unique ability to seduce us, too.
Stories will be told through my own, personal lens of someone who grew up loving the game, often wants to hate it, and somehow still watches it.
I’ll interview former players and coaches, families who've lost loved ones, military historians, psychologists, journalists, and more. The goal is to tell human stories capturing why the game is equal parts intoxicating and terrifying.
Stay tuned.
Will be a fun 2024.