There it was looking as it did when my father first gave it to me 46 years ago.
It was a copy of “Semi-Tough” written in 1972 by legendary Texas sportswriter Dan Jenkins in a day and era where sense and sensitivity weren’t comfortable companions. The semi-fictional story of Billy Clyde Puckett and Marvin “Shake” Tiller portrayed in a movie by Burt Reynolds and Kris Kristofferson five years later gave people some insight to the Lone Star State and what folks in those parts thought was funny.
As an impressionable teen-aged boy, my mother was uncomfortable with me reading this book. My parents often read before they went to sleep and shared passages with each other long into the night. My father thought the book was hilarious. My Southern Baptist mom did not agree, but let me read it anyway as long as I didn’t take it to school.
What is important about this book now is it’s a first of its kind. As a youth growing up in Texas, I loved the Dallas Cowboys, cried my eyes out when they lost to Green Bay in the Ice Bowl and believed these guys were heroes to be worshipped.
“Semi-Tough” changed all that by displaying in a fictional account what life was really like in professional sports.
“North Dallas Forty” further cemented this belief with its 1973 book debut made into a movie six years later starring Nick Nolte, Mac Davis and the late, great John Matuszak, whose performance is something to be admired.
Living in Dallas when these two books were released, they had an influence on me and a wide swath of future sportswriters around the country who were inspired by their creativity, humor and candor into an organization still trying to this day to deflect any of the negative elements of the game of professional football.
As I packed for the Masters, I debated taking it with me. I knew I would see Mr. Jenkins at the annual golf event; he has his own parking place with his name on it in a show of respect for a man who’s been coming to Augusta since fellow Fort Worth native Ben Hogan won the event in 1951.
After the success of “Semi-Tough,” he followed it up in 1974 with another semi-fictional story on professional golf called “Dead Solid Perfect.” It was made into a television movie 14 years later starring Randy Quaid and Kathryn Harrold.
Jenkins turned 88 last December. When he walks into the Masters media room, he is surrounded by colleagues who have known and spoken with him for years. I am not one of them, so I was a little apprehensive on Sunday before the final round how I would be received with book in hand.
He was seated at his traditional table in the media restaurant with two close friends where he watches the final round on TV. He is frail, soft-spoken, but just as sharp as ever and well aware of his surroundings.
After introducing myself, I handed him the book and told him the story of my mom and dad giving it to me. He held it, admiring its pristine condition, and asked me after I’d given my awkward account, “Is this a first edition?”
“Yes sir, I believe it is.”
Like a good reporter, he checked for himself. He set the book carefully on the table, opened it a little clumsily before finding the copyright page. There, at the bottom, underneath the sentence that reads “Designed by Kathleen Carey” — First Edition.
He closed it, looked up at me through thick glasses and said barely above a whisper, “I only have a few of these left.” He looked back down, examined the dust jacket and then flipped it over to the back to see a picture of him as a handsome middle-aged man of 42.
“Who is this guy? I don’t look like him anymore.”
He studied the black-and-white photo for another second or two, then handed it back to me and said, “This book’s in mint condition.” He almost had a question mark in his voice as to how or why I had taken the effort to keep it that way nearly a half-century later.
“It’s very special to me,” I said. “One of the few things I’ve carried with me through the years.”
He nodded. Thanked me for stopping by. And as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
Later, I told one of my friends about the encounter and he asked, “Did you get it autographed?” I said no. “Why not?” I replied, “I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer.” The way it should be. An unspoken code.
But I had a pen in my pocket just in case…
After i got back Tuesday night and unpacked my suitcase filled with Masters memorabilia, I removed the book and put it back in its safe place next to my autographed Mickey Mantle baseball I thought I lost once — found it under the couch — and the first edition of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
In monetary terms, “Semi-Tough” isn’t going to bring in as much cash at my estate sale as the other two items will, but for those of us old enough to remember, we know how this book shaped the landscape, how much it meant to us at that transitional time with journalists and athletes, and how it still has as much relevance in this century as it did in the last.
