Artie

By Gary K. Johnson

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a peer of one of your ancestors? Artie doesnt realize that a prayer is being answered when he is mysteriously transported back in time and becomes a college basketball teammate of his great grandfather. A star player in is own time, Artie has to relearn the game and the ways of the world in order to survive in his new surroundings. Along the way he finds love and learns that one person can make a world of difference.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465378576

Gary K. Johnson

Gary K. Johnson was born in New York, but raised in Douglas, Arizona right on the Mexican border. He grew up playing sports and worked in the college sports information offices before becoming a statistician at the NCAA in May, 1984. Gary works mostly with basketball and football, compiles the men's basketball RPI and has written more than 50 records books. Gary and his bride Annie have raised three children. He's volunteered his services to many charitable and community organizations, and has been on several mission trips with his church. Gary and Annie live in Greenwood, Indiana.

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Copyright © 2011 by Gary K. Johnson.

Library of Congress Control Number:          2011918246

ISBN:                      Hardcover                      978-1-4653-7856-9

                                 Softcover                      978-1-4653-7855-2

                                 Ebook                            978-1-4653-7857-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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105049

Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Dedication

To my wife, Annie, and our three kids Cory, Amanda and Tyler. And to all those who read the manuscript and encouraged me by saying that this book really needed to get published.

This book is a fictional story although actual persons living and deceased are contained within the story. The persons and events in this book may have representations in history, but this work is entirely the author’s creation and should not be construed as historical fact.

Chapter 1

The room was spinning, a room Artie Lonborg did not recognize. His head felt like it was about to explode. His eyes hurt to open them, even just a little. He brought his hands up to his aching forehead.

This is the mother of all headaches, Artie mumbled, but no one was in the room to hear.

Did anyone get the license number of that bus? Artie said and then chuckled to himself.

After thinking about it for a moment, Artie realized, "Wait a minute, it was a bus."

He tried to sit up, but the pain held him down.

Oooooh, he moaned. Through squinted eyes, he looked around the room.

Where am I? Artie asked to the scary silence. Artie did not recognize anything in the room, and it was nothing like the few hospital rooms he had been in during his eighteen years of life.

Where am I? Artie asked again.

The room was small. He lay in a single-sized bed. There was another bed the same size in the room. On the walls were some very old photographs. Even ancient, Artie thought. There were some shelves with a couple of books on them and a plain dresser. The open closet door showed nothing hanging inside. Nowhere in sight was a TV, stereo, computer or keyboard, phone, radio, or any of the amenities Artie was used to seeing. There weren’t even electrical power outlets on the wall.

By this time, Artie was able to sit up, but his head still hurt. He stretched his neck and the rest of his body to get the stiffness out. Artie noticed his clothes; they were the same basketball practice clothes he had been wearing when he crashed into the bus. Although he distinctly remembered the accident, his clothes and body showed no signs of it. No cuts, bruises, or blood.

From the few basketball recruiting trips Artie had taken, the room did look vaguely familiar. It reminded him of some of the dorm rooms he had seen in his recruiting trips to the universities of Kansas, Missouri, and Arizona. As strangely as the room looked familiar, it also looked very odd. Something did not click. Something was wrong. Something was different.

Artie was successful on his third attempt to stand up. He stood still a minute to again look around the room and to let his head clear.

Finally, he found his way to the door and opened it to find what looked like a cheap hotel hallway. There were a few young men his age carrying books while walking through the hall, but even they looked different. Their clothes and haircuts were different, not much different, but just enough to seem different.

Very dizzy and groggy, he set foot in the hall. A couple of young men gave him some strange looks as they walked by him. He wanted to ask one of them, Where am I? but he couldn’t get it out in time. Just then another young man approached. He looked concerned with Artie’s condition. The young man grabbed Artie by the shoulders and held him up straight. He looked into Artie’s eyes.

Are you all right? he asked Artie.

Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be okay, Artie replied. Artie looked at the guy a couple of seconds then asked, Where am I?

The man burst out laughing.

Find a supply of moonshine, did you? the man asked.

Moonshine? Artie asked very puzzled. He didn’t know what moonshine was.

Artie’s head was starting to feel much better now, but he still was totally confused as to what was going on.

Am I dead? Is this heaven? Artie asked.

Well, to some of us, this is pretty much… the other place, the young man laughed again.

This is… , Artie mumbled disappointedly as he pointed downward. I didn’t make it to… , he questioned as he pointed up to heaven.

The other man didn’t know how to react to Artie’s statement. After a few moments, he gently grabbed Artie by the shoulders, turned him around, and helped him back into the room. As he led Artie to the bed, the young man said, I think you need to sleep it off a tad bit more.

After helping Artie lie on the bed, the young man left the room and quietly closed the door. Artie stared at the blank white ceiling and asked himself, How did I get here? With a big sigh, Artie covered his eyes with his right arm and thought about the events of the past week that landed him here in this mysterious room. He thought back to the last basketball game he played, and because of the number of radios in the stands, he could almost hear every word of the radio announcer…

The Cougars are down by three, and we’re under forty seconds to play, the high school radio play-by-play man announced into his headphone.

"Painter brings the ball up, Rockhurst is applying some pressure. Painter passes off to Lonborg. Lonborg with two defenders on him. He takes a jumper from twenty-one feet out. The three-pointer is… good! It’s good! Lonborg’s shot is good, and we’re all tied up! The crowd in this packed gym is going crazy!

Rockhurst quickly calls a time-out to set up the Wildcats’ last shot. We’re all tied up, Shawnee Mission Northwest and Rockhurst are tied at 72, and we’ve got twenty seconds left to play. Instead of going to a commercial, we’re staying right here.

Out on the court, Artie’s teammates mobbed him as they made their way to the bench. Although Artie was only 6’2", he was the top high school prospect in the Kansas City area. Coming from a long line of basketball-playing relatives, Artie had the most athletic talent in his family. His lean frame was topped by short-cropped brown hair, and he had a boyish grin that could melt any heart. His family said he got his grin from his great-grandfather, who died before Artie was born.

When Artie and his teammates neared the bench, Coach Lute Snowden yelled, Sit down! Cut it out, sit down! We haven’t won anything yet! Hey, we’re not even ahead! Look at the scoreboard! We’re tied!

Coach Snowden was in his twentieth year at the high school, with a .700 winning percentage and four state championships to his credit. His bushy snow-white hair was a sharp contrast to his dark brown skin and coal-black eyes.

Although the coach was yelling, his players could barely hear him over the crowd noise. The crowd’s frenzy was pulsating through the building as this was a game between two of the top high school programs in the bordering states of Kansas and Missouri. Artie’s team, Shawnee Mission Northwest, was from the Kansas side of Kansas City and wore white uniforms trimmed in orange and black, while Rockhurst, a school in Missouri almost on the state line, had dark blue uniforms with white trim.

The five players who were in the game were sitting on the folding chairs the manager had set up a few feet from their bench while the rest of the team and coaches stood in a semicircle huddle to try to hear what Coach Snowden was saying. He quickly drew some Xs and Os on a small basketball court-shaped chalkboard as he knelt in front of his players.

It’s their ball under our basket; I want pressure on the ball all the way up the court. Lonborg, I want you and Paint double-teaming the ball. Coop and Oehlert, I want you here—near midcourt. Garnett, you’re down here in the paint. Don’t give up any high-percentage shots! Okay? No easy shots! Also, no fouls! It’s only twenty-seven seconds, if we can’t get a turnover, then don’t give up the easy bucket. Make them work for it! We’ll take overtime at this point. Remember, no fouls!

Meanwhile, the radio announcer was saying, "Even though this is early in the season, the intensity is like a playoff game. What a great way to start the 1988–89 season. Both these teams made it to their state high school final games last year, with Rockhurst winning the Missouri state title. This is a fantastic high school basketball game. It doesn’t get much better than this.

"Let’s talk about the game Artie Lonborg has played. With that three-pointer to tie the game, I’ve got him for 42 points. He is hitting from everywhere tonight. It seems like he has never had a bad game in his high school career.

"Artie passed up a chance to sign early. He hasn’t decided yet what lucky college is going to have his services next season. He’s been recruited by all the top basketball schools in the nation, such as Duke, North Carolina, Indiana, Kentucky. But I hear he has narrowed his choices down to three: Missouri, Arizona, and, believe it or not, Kansas. His dad, his grandfather, and, get this, his great-grandfather all played for the Jayhawks. Artie probably has more natural talent than any of his ancestors and he single-handedly could breathe some life into that Kansas program. I know a lot of people here who would like to see Artie stay close to home by going to Kansas.

Both teams are coming onto the court now, and we’re about ready to get going again. If neither team scores in the next twenty-seven seconds, we will be going into overtime. Bodelson for Rockhurst is looking to throw in the ball, Northwest is applying pressure. Bodelson just gets it in under five seconds; Campbell is bringing the ball up.

Artie and Cory Painter were sticking to the Rockhurst ball handler, just as the coach had ordered. Both boys were talking trash as they stuck by his every move.

You know you can’t beat us, Painter told Campbell as the Rockhurst player kept dribbling and looking for an opening.

This game is ours, Artie said as he tried to swat the ball out of Campbell’s hands.

Time’s running out, Painter added. You’re not even going to get a shot off.

The radio announcer continued to describe the closing moments of the game. Campbell across midcourt at twenty seconds now. Painter and Lonborg all over Campbell. The ball is loose! Lonborg with the steal, and he’s heading up-court! No whistles. Lonborg all alone, and he slams! Northwest up by two! Nine seconds left, eight seconds, seven! The Hawklets desperately throw it in, Mills at half-court, he turns and shoots! It’s short, there’s a scramble for the ball. And there’s the buzzer, it’s all over!

The crowd stormed the court as the game ended. Bedlam reigned with Artie in the center of the celebration.

Happy Cougar fans are all over the court! the announcer yelled into his headset to be heard over the noise. A couple members of the Northwest team have hoisted Artie Lonborg onto their shoulders. Lonborg, the hero, slamming down the winning basket with only seconds left. Shawnee Mission Northwest defeats Rockhurst, 74–72, on the strength of Artie Lonborg’s 42 points, make that 44 points.

It wasn’t the first time Artie had been triumphantly carried off the basketball court, and Artie hoped there would be plenty more times. The season was early in his senior year as the Cougars were now 2–0 and headed to what many experts expected to be the best season in the school’s history.

To an outsider, it would seem that Artie had everything going his way. But deep inside of Artie was an overwhelming anxious feeling as two major changes would soon be affecting his life. First, he needed to decide what college to attend, a decision made extra difficult by his family history. Second, a family member he loved dearly was dying.

Artie was happy to be playing well early in the season because that meant his grandpa Art would see him at his best. Grandpa Art was also the star of his high school team back in the early 1940s, but now he was dying of lung cancer. The days of Grandpa Art seeing his grandson star on the basketball court were numbered. Artie knew that every game in which he played could be the last that he would see his grandfather smiling and cheering from the stands.

Carrying Artie halfway to the locker room were Cory Painter and Garnett Wright, both black teammates. Along with Sean Cooper, a white teammate, Artie considered Cory and Garnett his best friends. The four boys were always seen around Shawnee and the high school together. Sean lived across the street from Artie, and the two had played sports together all their lives. Artie met Cory and Garnett on his freshman year in high school, and the four seniors made up the core of Northwest’s powerhouse team.

Artie showered quickly and headed home. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with his family while Grandpa was still with them.

Cory and Sean were leaving at the same time as Artie, so they all walked together through the nearly empty gym and out the front door to the parking lot.

Sure you don’t want to go to the party with Sean and me? Cory asked Artie. Last chance.

Artie thought about it a moment before he replied, Nah. Thanks for asking, but I got to get home. Besides, it’s a school night.

We won’t be there long, Sean encouraged.

No. I better not, Artie said as he shook his head.

As Artie left them to walk to his car, Sean yelled, Hey! Remember, tomorrow, dinner after practice. The four of us.

Got it, Artie answered back. See ya tomorrow.

See ya, they yelled back as they got into Cory’s Mazda.

Artie also had a little car—a 1980 red Honda. He quickly drove it home.

Artie arrived home within an hour after the end of game, ready for the cheering and kidding of his family. Except for Grandpa Art, they were all sitting in the living room watching television when Artie came in the front door.

Thatta boy, son, Art said, looking up from his La-Z-Boy chair. You made us proud.

Thanks, Dad, Artie responded.

Good game, dear, his mother, Annie, congratulated him as she kissed him. Can I get you anything?

Yeah, Mom, how about a TV dinner? Artie answered as he sat in the chair next to his father.

Isn’t it kind of late to be eating like that? his father asked. Looking at his hungry son, his father changed his mind. Oh, go ahead, he told his wife. Artie used up a lot of energy tonight.

Let me see what we’ve got, Mrs. Lonborg said as she walked to the kitchen.

Hey, Squirt. Hi, Ty-Guy, Artie greeted his younger siblings with a smile. They were both in their pajamas.

Eleven-year-old Amanda asked, How come you didn’t score 50 like you said you would, huh? Her question forced Artie to crack a smile.

But before Artie could respond, his eight-year-old brother, Tyler, said, Yeah, and how come you didn’t do like a Michael Jordan on that last dunk? You didn’t even stick out your tongue.

Man, Artie said in fake disgust, after all I did in that game tonight… is there no satisfying you?

No! they said in unison.

Say, Artie asked of Amanda and Tyler, what are you guys still doing up anyway?

Mommy said we could stay up late to harass you, Tyler said.

And you’re doing a fine job, Artie responded.

Thanks, Amanda and Tyler again said in unison.

Annie stuck her head in from the kitchen area. Okay, you saw your brother, now it’s off to bed. It’s a school night.

Amanda and Tyler kissed their parents and said good night as they headed upstairs to their bedrooms.

Chicken or turkey? Mrs. Lonborg yelled from the kitchen.

Chicken, Mom. Thanks! Artie yelled back.

Artie and his dad turned their attention to the Late Show with David Letterman.

Quietly, Artie asked his father, Where’s Grandpa?

He went to bed already.

Is he all right?

Yeah, just a little tired. This whole thing is really wearing him down, Art said. He was real proud of you tonight.

Artie smiled.

After watching a couple of Stupid Pet Tricks on the show, Art turned to his son. I haven’t asked you in a while, but are you closer to making any decision?

Well, Dad, Artie said, I know you and Grandpa really want me to go to Kansas, but I want to go to somewhere we can win. I’m still leaning toward Missouri, but Arizona is close behind. I want to get away from home for a while, and Lawrence is too close. Even if KU were one of the top programs in the nation, like a Kentucky or Indiana, I still wouldn’t go there. I think I’m ready to be out on my own, and I don’t know if I can do that in Lawrence.

Obviously not happy with the answer, Art said, I know you can bring a winning program to Kansas. We have a long family history of playing at Kansas, and it would be a shame if the most talented Lonborg we ever produced weren’t a Jayhawk.

Dad, I’m only one person. I can’t make Kansas win. Not just me alone.

You’d be surprised, son. One man can make the difference. It only takes one special person to turn a program around.

I don’t think so. If I go to KU, I’d just be a good player on a bad team.

You don’t know that for sure. Anything can happen. Great-grandpa Dutch did a lot for Kansas at the time he played for them. Every generation, we’ve added something to that program, and you can do the same.

But, Dad, Great-grandpa Dutch did those things a long time ago. Things are different now. Nothing he did back then has any effect on me or Kansas now.

You’d be surprised.

Dad, there’s no way anything Great-grandpa Dutch did in 1920 has affected us here now. No way!

If I may borrow a term you use all the time, ‘way.’ Many things have an effect on future generations. In the history of the world, your decision of which college to go to may be totally insignificant. But to future Lonborgs, it will have a big effect. Even to the school you choose or don’t choose, it could have a big effect.

I don’t think so, Artie said, shaking his head.

Your school choice affects not only your future and the education you get, but also other things.

Artie looked at his dad with squinted eyes and said, Like what?

Like… Art tried to think of an example. Like… like if you were to go to Arizona and you liked the winters in… where is it, Tucson? If you liked the weather in Tucson and saw it doesn’t snow or have freezing temperatures during the basketball season, you might like it enough to decide to live there even after you’re done with school.

Well, what’s wrong with that? Artie asked.

Nothing, his father said. Nothing’s wrong with that, but it does affect the rest of your life. Do you see that?

Artie gave a weak affirmative nod, and then both Art and Artie turned their attention back to the TV for a moment. Letterman had just finished with a guest, and they cut to a commercial.

‘X’ marks the spot, and the spot is right here at Marxen Tires and Parts, the TV pitchman in the polyester suit said while standing next to stacked rows of tires. Our family has been in the tire and automotive parts business since the ‘20s and… , the commercial kept going as Artie looked out the corner of his eyes to see his dad also staring at the TV.

As the jingle for the television commercial came on, Artie decided to approach their discussion from a different angle. You know, things were different back when Great-grandpa Dutch or Grandpa Art or you were in school. People were different, things were newer. It was easy to make changes. Going to a good basketball program didn’t make much difference. People didn’t know that much back then.

Where in the world did you come up with that one? People had brains back then. They knew what was going on. People were just people, and just because they lived before you did doesn’t mean they didn’t know anything. The kids back then were not all that different from you and your buddies today. Sure, they lived at a different time, but that’s all. You adjust to your time and your surroundings. They had the same thoughts and the same wants you do today.

I don’t think so, Artie said without moving his eyes from the television.

The tension between the two was broken when Annie entered the room carrying a folding tray with a hot TV dinner and a glass of milk on it.

Here you go, son, she said as she set it down in front of Artie.

Thanks, Mom, Artie said. He took a quick glance at his father before he started eating.

Oh, Mom, Artie said in between bites, I’m going to grab dinner tomorrow with some of my buds after practice. Okay? Annie nodded her head as she sat down to watch Letterman. No more about college was discussed that night.

When Artie went to bed, it took him a while to fall asleep as visions of the day’s events kept running through his head. When he finally did get to sleep, he dreamed about the big game and being carried off the court on his teammates’ shoulders. He even dreamed about walking through the gym with his friends after the game. Only this time, things were a little different.

This time, as Artie and his friends Cory and Sean walked back through the gym, some people were still milling around, including an old man and a young man in his twenties who looked like a bodybuilder. They were waiting at the end of the stands near the exit doors.

As the three boys walked by the two men, the old man suddenly called, Artie!

Artie and his friends stopped and looked at the old man.

Artie, do you recognize me? the old man asked.

Artie shook his head.

Artie, it’s Mart, the old man said with a hopeful smile.

I don’t know you, Artie said.

Mart… Marvin Harms, the old man tried again.

Harms! Cory suddenly exclaimed. Aren’t you that rich dude who donates all the money?

Harms nodded but kept staring mysteriously into Artie’s eyes. Artie didn’t know what the old man wanted but figured he must be acting this way because he was an eccentric old millionaire.

So, Sean said carefully and slowly, did you want Artie’s autograph?

Harms kept staring into Artie’s eyes. After a few moments, the old man seemed to give up on his real purpose there and conceded. Yes, I want Artie’s autograph.

At that point, the younger man produced a paper and pen out of thin air. Artie quickly signed the blank paper and started walking toward the exit doors.

Artie kept glancing back at the old man who stared back at him until he had left the building. Artie woke up and quickly sat up in his bed, now wide awake. What was that? he mumbled to himself. It would be another hour before he fell back asleep.

Chapter 2

The next morning at breakfast, Artie asked his parents if they had ever heard of a man named Marvin Harms.

No, dear, his mother said while laying down a plate of scrambled eggs on the table.

Artie’s dad lowered his morning newspaper and shook his head no.

Artie knew it was just a dream, but it seemed so real. He wanted to know if this Harms guy was an actual person.

Maybe… maybe he’s someone you’ve heard of, like a millionaire or something? Artie asked in desperation.

No, I don’t think so, Annie answered. Why do you ask?

Oh, I dreamed this guy… , Artie started to explain.

Annie interrupted him, Have you been having those strange dreams again?

What dreams? Art asked over his paper.

You know, Annie said. Those very vivid dreams Artie has about something that happened to him that day, but in his dream, things are a little different than how they actually happened. Is that right, Artie?

Yeah, Mom, Artie agreed. It’s really weird. I had another one last night. This one was about our big win yesterday.

Are you okay, son? Art asked. You seem shaken.

I’m okay, Artie assured him. It’s just that these dreams are so real.

What other dreams have you had like this? Art asked his son.

Well, sometimes I’ve dreamed Great-grandpa Dutch as an old man.

Grandpa Dutch! He died before you were born, and he didn’t live long enough to get old. How could you dream him?

That’s what I mean. Weird, huh?

That day in third-hour classes, Cory and Artie were sitting next to each other in the