Posts Tagged ‘presentation’

My nine-year-old nephew just finished his first season as a top hitter on a baseball all-star team. When he started as a little T-baller a few years ago, I suppose his coach warned him not to sling the bat behind him after a hit. Good advice—but unnecessary. He and his younger sister know well what can happen when a bat spins out of the hitter’s hands.

So many times they’ve heard the tale of my one and only baseball hit. It was a game of cousins and friends in Alabama, and I took my place at the plate: the sorriest hitter on the team. As the ball came toward me, I all but shut my eyes, swung the bat in its general direction, and HOLY COW! I connected. The ball went bouncing toward the pitcher and I took off! First base … I could hear yelling … second base … third base. Only then did I notice there weren’t any basemen. Everyone was huddled over something on the ground at home plate.

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 Nooooo! Stopppp! I ran toward my friend, making wild arm gestures, desperately trying to wave him off as he unwittingly stumbled toward the precipice …

Too late. Crash and burn.

Okay … so my friend didn’t really take an accidental header over the side of the world then spontaneously combust. And my dramatic slo-mo attempt to save him was all in my head. I wanted to save him. The second he veered from his prepared comments into “I shouldn’t tell this story, but …” it was clear he needed saving. But I could only listen helplessly as he off-the-cuffed himself off the cliff. Later, as he tried to defend his inappropriate anecdote, he probably thought spontaneous combustion wouldn’t have been so bad.

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Many naval officers did extraordinary things during World War II, including Iowan Thomas Heggen who served aboard the USS Virgo. But Heggen’s lasting contribution didn’t occur in the heat of battle. It happened in the quiet of his quarters as the 26-year-old penned his only novel, Mister Roberts.

Written at sea during 1944, the war classic was published in 1946, became an instant hit, and was later adapted into a Tony Award–winning play, an Oscar-winning film, a telefilm, and even a short-lived 1960s TV series.

Since the war had ended by the time his book rolled off the presses, Heggen’s publishers expected him to make public appearances to promote his work. Fighting the enemy in the Pacific Theater was one thing. But the shy Iowan was terrified at the thought of … gasp! … public speaking.

In The Almanac of American Letters, Randy F. Nelson recounts Heggen’s appearance at a formal luncheon in New York. Overwhelmed with stage fright, he stood speechless at the microphone. Finally, someone seated nearby whispered, “Perhaps you can tell us how you wrote your book.”

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