First Line — All That Counts

by · February 25, 2019

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“I want to play goalie.”

Fittingly, this is the first line in my novel, All That Counts.

All That Counts is a novel I wrote under my given name. I didn’t want to confuse anyone who was familiar with the Frank Zafiro catalog. All That Counts isn’t crime fiction, but centers around hockey. Anyone who knows me beyond a very surface connection is well aware of my passion for the sport, and I occasionally slip it into my Frank Zafiro novels (I even wrote a Kopriva short story with a strong hockey backdrop for the mystery).

In this book, a middle-aged man and recreational hockey player named Graham Wilson is having a bit of a mid-life crisis, but instead of climbing Mt. Everest or getting a sports car or a 21-year-old girlfriend, he does something else.

He moves from skater to goaltender.

The story follows this transition, with all its humorous bumps and falls, as we also learn about his relationships with his teammates, an older goalie who mentors him, and his wife.

Despite all the focus on the hockey, the story really is about people and what is important in life. So if you love hockey, you’ll get your fill. If you don’t understand hockey, it’s explained. If you don’t like hockey, seek professional help.

But what about this first line? Honestly, while it isn’t lyrical or a punch to the gut (that would be an A+ line), it is perfect for this book. It tell you right away what is happening, and gets the ball rolling. I give it an A…. which is pretty odd, since I’ve graded my opening lines in this blog post series pretty hard. But I think this one works exactly the way an opening line should. It deserves an A.

You?

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Truthfully, there is a lot of real life in this book. Like Graham, I switched from skater to goalie. Never having played the position before, I experienced most if not all of the same tribulations he does in the book. I had a friend, Jim Brickey, who mentored me (there were others, too, but he did the most, by far). Many of the locker room and on ice antics that various characters do in the book were based on (or are flat out exactly) what really happened on different teams I’ve played on.

There are characters that are loosely (and sometimes closely) based on real people I played with or knew. The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are from hockey people (mostly) that I admire. I even gave him the last name after my grandfather’s middle name.

Yeah, there is a lot of me in this book.

That said, Graham’s story isn’t my story. It is his own. And even with all the real life basis for many moments in the story, All That Counts is still ninety percent fiction. That fiction allowed me to explore that question about what is important in life, what we should notice and care about.

I wrote this book when I was about forty. I’m fifty now. And I still think what Graham discovers when it comes to answering that question is pretty damn spot on. I’m glad I explored it, and I’m happy with the answer.

Plus, I got to write about hockey.

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I would be remiss not to mention that the ending of this book has been a little controversial with readers. If you’ve read it (or read it after this), I’d love to hear your thoughts on it…. but if you haven’t read it yet, beware of SPOILERS in the comment section.
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I don’t play goalie anymore. After about ten years in net, I got the yearning to skate out again, so I switched back to wing. When Kristi and I moved to Redmond, I gave away my gear to a guy who was just starting out (actually, he refused to take it for free, so we eventually agreed to a small price). In one of the last games I played with that group of guys (Hackley Hockey, for those of you in the know), it was kinda weird to see my pads and mask and blocker and glove on someone else.  But it was also cool to watch how eagerly he approached the new challenge. I saw him struggle and get better, even over the course of the game.
Another journey.
I do still play hockey here in Redmond, Oregon. Bend, actually. The team I’m on, the Islanders, plays on a beautiful, covered outdoor rink. It’s a good league, run well by Parks and Rec. I’m in my second year and volunteered to captain a team this year. We’re having a great season at 10-1 with one more game before the playoffs start. 
Honestly, it is one of the best teams I’ve ever been on, and the comraderie reminds me a lot of the Pangborn team that served as the inspiration for Graham Wilson’s Rangers in the book. A really great group of men and women that are flat out fun to play with. Winning helps, of course. It always does. But I get the sense that we’d still be having fun even if we were 1-10. Just maybe not quite as much.
I may not be as fast as I was fifteen or twenty years ago, but I’m having a great time.
In honor of this team seeming special, I revived an old tradition from those Pangborn days. I brought out the Stan Lee Cup. Long ago, this piece of protective gear was given its name (and eventually even adorned with the lipstick kisses) by one of the Pangborn players, and we adopted it as our player of the game award. It was given to the player who had the most memorable game – could be a big goal, a gritty play, or a hilarious misadventure. When we ended our run as Pangborn, the cup went into a hockey bag with old jerseys. There it sat for about fourteen years.
No the actual cup, but I
couldn’t take a picture since
I didn’t win it last week!
Until this season.
This season, I brought it out for the Islanders. And as is always the case with new groups, new traditions develop. Fittingly, our goalie got the cup last game, and the new tradition was caught on film.

Good stuff.
We play the final game of the regular season on the same day this post goes live. Then the playoffs. In just a few weeks, this team will be done, too. It’s the way Park and Rec does things, shuffling players each year. It keeps things collegial, and some of the rivalries that I knew in Spokane (or that exist in the book) never come into being.
But it also means losing something special. Something cool. Just like when it came time for Pangborn to end its run. Or just like when I wrote the last line of All That Counts.
But it’s all part of a journey, right? I’m glad I’ve taken this one, and if you were part of it, thanks for making it worth every second.


Source: All The Madness In My Soul

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