My Attrition
“If the earth is my real world, then you are my sky at sunset, beautiful, colorful, memorable, never touching the earth and always out of reach.”

How long does true love last? It's a question author Alan Shope attempts to answer in his second novel "My Attrition".

Fiction Drama, inspired by real writings.

Brought together by fate, George Stone, a young American soldier and an English girl, Eve Wild, find more than just love in a quiet mountain cabin surrounded by enemy soldiers in World War II France. After a mission goes terribly wrong, young American soldier George Stone is caught behind enemy lines all alone. Forced to survive without food and water in bone chilling temperatures, Stone surprisingly discovers an ally surviving in the same place for many different reasons. The two build a friendship and an eventual love that no army could ever tear apart. But can that love survive time and distance? Their love is finally revealed when hidden letters are discovered in a Kansas farmhouse attic years later by the soldier's son. <p>

"My Attrition" is the follow up to Alan Shope's first published title "A Different Heaven" iUniverse 2005 ISBN 0595341101.

Early Reviews:

"That just seemed like the perfect way to end the story. I loved your book!" 
Morgan
KC, MO

"You are a talented writer. Are you sure you are not southern? It really came out in your writing. You have some lovely, lyrical passages. It's a most satisfying end to a good read."
Caroline
Westport, CT

"Sounds highly marketable."
Madeline
Boston, Mass

"Wow...this was a really good book.  I planned on reading a couple of chapters but stayed up till I finished it. I couldn't stop crying at the end."
Laura
Wichita, KS

"It's your best book yet. It was really good and better than a lot of published books I've already finished."
Deeana
Andale, KS

Alan Shope's third novel is in the edit stage due out in early 2011.  It's the story of a high school student who transfers schools for his senior year after having a heart transplant.  It's a fictional story based on some real life events.  Much more to come on this book over the next few months.

After having an unexpected heart transplant the summer before his senior year, big city boy Adam Sawyer makes a promise.  He commits to spending his final year of school attending classes in the small, farm community of his heart donor:  a community where outsiders are not always welcome.    Keeping his recent surgery hidden, he attempts to balance new love, new friends and a new life thanks to a new heart.   His newfound popularity keeps him excited and seemingly in good health.   As graduation day arrives, the secret of Adam’s life is discovered.  Will Adam be accepted as himself once all of his new friends know the truth of where Adam got his heart?  Or will his heart choose to reject him first?  Find out in this must read story. THE SENIOR, a story about the trials and tribulations of high school where friendships, sports, and life lessons come together in the fast paced stream of life.




Alan Shope is currently working on his 4th title "A Flower On The Highway".

Recent Columns:


PARENTS HAVE CHANGED, BUT SWINGS ARE THE SAME

            In high school I had a complex.  I always thought other kids were better than me in sports, before I ever matched up against them.  This of coarse gave them the edge.  In fact I was well into my college years before I realized I was a pretty darn good baseball player and developed the competitive edge.  Due to my birth date I always had to play sports against kids that were older than me, sometimes up to three years while I was growing up. Thus I spent a ton of time on the bench, or playing for really bad teams.  But sometimes it’s not what you know but what you learn and while it may not help you in that particular sport it will probably help you later in life.  The following is one of those stories.

            When the dust cleared, there were 12 left standing, 12 little league ball players who were not selected to a team. Some standing in the group were so disappointed you could see it in their ten-year-old eyes.

            My Dad had never coached a baseball team before, but he couldn't’t take looking at the remaining 12 players that no one wanted on their team. He argued, “Why can’t those other teams take them?” But no one would.

            So that afternoon my father yanked me off the A’s and said, “We’re starting our own team.” He grabbed one of the parents of the remaining 12, and talked him into coaching with him. He talked to his boss at work and got a sponsor. He held practices and found positions for everyone. The Crane Cougars were born.

            We were quite possibly the worst little league team ever. Our best player was Aaron, but he had to pitch because no one else could throw the ball over the plate. I was a steady second baseman, but I had to catch because I was the only one who could throw the ball to second when someone tried to steal. We were not pretty to watch, but we always had the best and loudest cheering crowd.

            Thirteen games into a 15 game season and we were 0-12, but on the verge of our first win. We were trailing 13-12 with two outs in the bottom of the last inning with the bases loaded. A hit, just one little hit, would win the game for us. So up to bat came our right fielder, Monty. He was the biggest kid on the team and absolutely the worst player. He hadn’t gotten a hit all season long. As my father slowly put his arm around Monty, I remember his words from the on-deck circle. He said to Monty, “Just do your best.”

            As Monty walked to the plate, a woman came quickly to the backstop. “Coach George! Coach George!” she yelled. It was Monty’s Mom. “Coach George, we’ve got a chance to win the game, TAKE MONTY OUT. Let someone else hit,” she begged.

            It never really occurred to me at the time, but in today’s world where parents are shooting coaches with guns because they won’t play their son, this woman was pleading with my father to bench hers so the team could win. My dad told her, “On my team, everyone plays.” He turned to his batter, “Now go get a hit Monty.” Monty smiled and proudly went to the plate and struck out on three pitches.

            That season, we finished 0-15, but we had a perfect record.

The Original 6^th Man

I grew up near the intersection of 27^th & Seneca on the southwest side of Wichita.  We were pretty lucky over there, never having any problems getting a game together. Whether it was football, baseball or a pick up game of hoops, there were always plenty of kids to call up and join in.  We had so many athletes in that area that many times participants were turned away.  Things were different when I got to high school and started hanging out with a guy named Jeff Carron.  He grew up near 47^th & Seneca and, at least during the high school years, it was tough down there to fill a squad for hoops on a Saturday morning or a nice game on the gridiron in the afternoon.  It seemed we were always one guy short.  That’s where Pete came in.  If you are familiar with the 47^th & Seneca area, you know the landmarks.  Taco J’s, that old tiny sports card shop that’s rarely open, and a guy named Pete who rode his bike up and down nearly every street everyday.  At least he did back then.  I first met Pete while playing hoops in Jeff’s front yard.  We had five guys and were waiting for a 6^th whom hadn’t shown up yet.  Pete was cruising by on his classic older model schwinn.  The bike was as old as time itself and made a unique rattling sound as the hard black tires hit all the cracks in the payment.  Jeff yelled out. “Pete, wanna hoop?”  The lone rider smiled and turned around and rode his bike to the end of the driveway and dropped it.  I had no idea who he was. “That’s Pete.” Jeff said.  We shot for teams and Pete was on mine along with another kid.  It only took the in bounding off the ball and vision of Pete’s shooting style to completely understand who he was.  While we were all in our late teens, Pete was in his mid-20’s and he was what we might have called back then a little slow, but not in effort and not in heart.  Every time you passed the ball to Pete he launched it.  He could be two feet from the basket or thirty feet when it went flying, most of the time not hitting the backboard. But Pete never gave up.  It did, however, make for a lot less passing to Pete.  Some games he wouldn’t touch the ball even though he was always open.  Over the next two years, Pete played a lot of sports with us.  Sometimes he’d be ready to play then a 6^th guy would show up and they’d say “Looks like we don’t need you Pete.” He’d smile, hop on his bike and leave.  I can’t ever remember Pete refusing to play or not wanting to be the 6^th man; he was always up for a game.  It must have been about two or three years ago when my family and I went to Taco J’s for dinner.  As I sat there looking out the window, I noticed an older mid-40’s Pete riding up to the taco shop on a newer bike.  He walked inside and stood in line for something to eat.  As my family got up to leave, I re-filled my Coke and walked by him I said “Hey Pete!”  He turned and smiled and said “Hi” although I’m sure he had no idea who I was. “Whose that?”  My son asked.  “That’s Pete.” I said.  I never found out Pete’s last name, but I’m curious if he’s still riding his bike up and down those streets today looking for a game.

“Pool” Table Of Contents

In the fall of 1971, my father had just received his first bonus check from his new job.  With the check he was looking to buy something he had always wanted but never been able to afford…a pool table.  He looked around several stores but was not able to locate one, until he went to a popular sporting goods store that today, no longer exists: The Gunning Wholesale Sporting Goods Store on North Waco.   There my father fell in love with a 60’s looking retro pool table that at the time was ahead of its time.  It had a charming price of $300 and had a number of special features.  It was official regulation size with a ball return, complete chrome lining with chrome corners, and an easy leveling system.  This state of the art table had a perfect green felt top, soft padded side rails, four roll counters, and a design that made it stand out from any other table on the market.  The brand was “Fischer” and at age four I couldn’t even see over the sides.  Almost weekly I would ask my dad if I could play, but he said not until I was taller.  So as the years went by and the inches added to my body, I grew to know the table as many things in our South Hiram basement.  To me, the soft green pool table had many other uses.  It was a baseball, football, and battle field for my GI Joes.  It was a race track for my many hotwheels and slot cars, and even an aircraft carrier for my paper airplanes.  Add a big blanket and it became a fort and a playhouse for my sisters.  We made a ping pong table to sit on top and it was even a laundry table and storage table for my mother.  But, it was rarely a pool table.  In fact, we only played it a few times each year. This turned out to be a blessing.  When my oldest sister got her own home, she bought it from my father for that same $300.  Several years later, I was able to buy it from her for that same $300.  Today the Unique ‘60’s looking retro pool table sits in my basement.  The table is still as original as the day my father first purchased it 35 years earlier.  Same felt, same soft rails, same unique design, even the same pool balls from 1971.  On the holidays we break out our old friend and play…if for only an hour or so.   Sometimes things that are seldom used remain valuable assets to our lives.      




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