What Deion Sanders Knows About Storytelling
If your name is Coach Prime, exaggeration and extravagant fur coats are allowed.
I first became a fan of high-wattage personality Deion Sanders when I was in high school. He was simultaneously playing baseball for the Atlanta Braves and football for the Atlanta Falcons. I always thought of Deion as existing in a realm of fabulousness far removed from my daily life, occupying a sort of a Mount Olympus of fame, whose denizens would never cross my path. But last month, the University of Colorado officially hired Sanders to coach their perpetually stinky football team, and my town has been abuzz with all things Coach Prime ever since.
The gas station nearest my home has installed a “Welcome Coach Prime” message on its digital billboard. Local newspapers and television stations have reported—somewhat breathlessly—on Sanders’ commentary about each Boulder restaurant he’s visited. His coaching expertise is demonstrated by the way he lays down praise first, then pivots toward constructive criticism. As he said about The Buff, “Hospitality, unbelievable. The waitresses, the waiters were on point.” But the chicken? “It needed a little more seasoning. You know, we’re from the South,” he explained.
In another interview, Sanders admitted that he was afraid of Ralphie, CU’s mascot, who charges onto the field before each game with a team of youthful cowboy-type handlers. Sanders wanted to know whether he or the bison was expected to run out first. He prefers the latter scenario, perhaps thinking it less likely to result in a goring. He mused about inviting a new celebrity each week to accompany Ralphie, and said how “wonderful” it would be if Snoop Dogg came. “I could make it happen,” he said, “That’s my dog.”
Let me just pause here to emphasize: there is a distinct possibility that SNOOP DOGG will visit MY HOME TOWN in the coming year TO JOG AROUND WITH A BISON. Those of you who know me can imagine how witnessing such an event would constitute the apotheosis of several dreams that I’ve never dared express. Before now.
My son and I have been watching all of Coach Prime’s doings, rapt. Deion has brought much needed razzle-dazzle to these slushy, cold midwinter days. I mean, the man is posing on the February cover of GQ and modeling fashions like this:
Sanders has chronicled his introduction to Colorado through multiple videos, including one in which he went walking in the snow, with all the tentative steps and astonished glee of a newborn fawn. “It’s my first time walking in the snow,” he says in the video, before calling out to “Lord Jesus” to sustain him through the icy stroll. My son watched the video and reported to me that Deion had never seen snow before.
I didn’t believe it. “Of course he’s seen snow before. He played in the NFL. Didn’t he ever go to Minnesota?”
I was determined to uncover the truth. So I typed “Deion Sanders snow” into Google. And I learned that less than a year ago, a freak snowstorm hit Mississippi, where Deion was coaching for Jackson State. Restaurants across the state closed, leaving Sanders hungry and disappointed when he tried to obtain nourishment at a local Waffle House. He posted a video in which he claimed that he was starving. Local firemen rushed over with a full barbecue spread for him and his staff, an act of generosity and courage that he thanked them for in a subsequent video.
I assembled the evidence and laid out the case for my son that Deion had, in fact, seen snow at least once before, during his ill-fated Mississippi Waffle House excursion. Perhaps he’d never “walked” in it before, but he was not the snow ingénu that he presented himself as in the video.
My son pondered this for a while. “Is Deion a little crazy?”
It was a fair question. But I think a more accurate observation is that Deion is a storyteller. Through videos, interviews, and fashion, he’s crafting the story of a talented and flashy newcomer from the South who ventures to the unfamiliar territory of the Rocky Mountains, frigid land of bison, bland food, white people, and snowcapped mountain peaks, where he will accept a $29.5 million five-year salary to burnish the football program into something worthy of its majestic landscape. (Colorado isn’t actually cold enough to wear a fur coat most of the time—but it looks like it would be, and that’s what matters.)
See, the story is better if Deion has never seen snow before. His unfamiliarity with snow is part of the call to adventure. He’s wearing that fur coat and fuzzy sweater in the GQ shoot to show that he’s ready to face the challenges of Colorado’s climate, and showcase his signature style while doing it.
Deion knows storytelling. He’s assembled his characters, including his transplanted family and scores of top-ranked recruits and transfers who are flocking toward Coach Prime. He’s established the setting: a snowy, high-altitude, Western land that makes a suitable backdrop for a fur coat.
He’s built tension and suspense: Can the football team possibly live up to this hype? Will Snoop Dogg actually run with Ralphie? Will Deion fuel his vehicle at the gas station near my house that is beckoning him? Will Boulder restaurants add spice to their chicken dinners? The stakes are nearly as high as they could be. We’re talking Marvel-movie-level stakes. (Stock up on cayenne, restauranteurs.)
Deion has established the plot, too. It will feature an episodic series of competitions against various foes, and in between, displays of fashion (he claims to never wear the same shoes twice) and folksy aphorisms. (“If you look good, you feel good, If you feel good, you play good, If you play good, they pay good.”)
I don’t know about you but I’m turning the page. I’m watching every minute of the Coach Prime story unfold. And I just might unfurl a “Welcome, Coach Prime” banner in my yard to see if I might become part of it.
The Book Recommendation Portion of The Tumbleweed
I reviewed the new novel Sam by one of my favorite writers, Allegra Goodman, for the Minneapolis Star Tribune. Here’s a bit of my review:
Some writers hone a signature style, while others reinvent their approach to suit each book. With her sixth novel, "Sam," Allegra Goodman set aside the descriptive, lyrical prose style of her prize-winning novels and New Yorker stories to craft a stripped-down, elemental voice out of fidelity to her sturdy young protagonist. Sam is a straightforward girl who suffers hard knocks and learns to climb rocks as she undergoes the traumas and revelations of growing up from age 7 to 19.
Goodman faithfully creates the perspective of a child doing her best to understand the complicated adult lives around her and to figure out how to satisfy everyone's demands in a way that's reminiscent of Beverly Cleary's classic Ramona Quimby books. None of the nuances of adult dramas are lost on Sam, and Sam's instinct to gravitate toward the activities she enjoys cannot be dampened by rules or obstacles. Goodman conveys the protagonist's emotions so precisely that the reader feels them, too.
Read the rest here.
The Happenings & Links Portion of The Tumbleweed
I have just been invited to interview illustrious Canadian author Miriam Toews as she kicks off her paperback tour for her most recent novel, Fight Night, at the Tattered Cover Colfax on Monday, January 30 at 6 p.m. Let me know if you have any questions for her!
Rachel King is touring behind her new, acclaimed story collection Bratwurst Haven, and she was kind enough to invite three fellow short story writers with recent collections set in Colorado along for the ride. Wendy J. Fox (What if We Were Somewhere Else), Claire Boyles (Site Fidelity), and I will join Rachel in conversation at the Boulder Book Store on February 9 and at Tattered Cover Colfax on February 10. It’s called “Women Writing Colorado,” and I’d love to see any of you at the events!
I’m heading to AWP in Seattle, and I’m proud to moderate the panel “Writing the Real West: Diverse, Urban, and Contemporary,” starring fabulous writers Erika T. Wurth, Jonathan Evison, Leland Cheuk, and Sameer Pandya. The panel will take place on Saturday, March 11 at 9 a.m. (Rooms 338-339, Summit Building, Seattle Convention Center, Level 3). Let me know if you’ll be at AWP or if you have any events you’re involved in that I can come see—I’ll be the one lingering awkwardly in the back of the room, hoping someone will proffer a friendly wave.
As always, The Tumbleweed welcomes your questions and comments about writing, reading, taco eating, rabbit wrangling, the difference between buffalo and bison, and Deion Sanders.