Monday Night Jihad Book

The thing that is remarkable about this story of a football superstar turned covert operative fighting terrorists is that it's somehow even worse than it should have been. Reading it, I got the feeling that Jason Elam's literary background consists entirely of Tom Clancy's oeuvre and the Bible, and co-author Steve Yohn's background was crafting his church's community announcements.

Whatever their background, it's clear they are out of their depths in writing a novel, even a shitty potboiler. At some point, this writing twosome must have heard that details are the key to bringing in a reader. But they never realized that which details you share are actually kinda important. When our hero, Riley Covington (I know) goes to a Christmas dinner at his friend's house, this is the description we get "Riley pressed Lock twice on his key fob and followed Ricci in". And Team Elam isn't in some moment of "hysterical realism," throwing every fact and idea they can think of our way. They offer no details of the house, the neighborhood, what his wife looks like, but choose to share how this paragon of humanity locks the door of his car. He's just like us! Awesome. This contributes to a world which is simultaneously cramped and flat. It's filled with little name checks and references to Denver, but none of their language ever evokes anything of the city itself. They tell us that Riley Covington meets with his pastor for lunch at The New York Deli News, but don't describe anything about the place. It's like Elam is saying "Look, I told you its name, you want to know what it's like? Why don't you go their, tell 'em Jason sent ya'". Like I'd ever admit in public that I read Monday Night Jihad.

These extraneous moments (there is a ton of backstory for the most cookie cutter of heroes) contribute to making the book unreadable in a single sitting, which is the way a book like this should be read. But what ultimately made this book take weeks for me finish was the sheer awkwardness of all the attempts at jokes. I don't know if it's Elam or Yohn that thinks he's funny, but just putting it out there in case either ever see this comment Jason Elam and Steve Yohn are not funny. And as eye-rolling as it is to read "Call my anything you like; just don't call me late for afternoon prayers," to have other characters laugh at these not-so-bon mots, sometimes so hard that tears stream down their faces, feels beyond awkward. It's a violation of man's social order and by reading it, I somehow felt complicit and needed to walk away.

And I'm sure their are many moments of gallows humor in instances of terrorists attacks, but if a day after thousands of people get blowed up, the response team is doing Disney character impressions, please fire them. Not because they're being callous, but because they're being retarded. And I don't want anyone so idiotic in charge of avenging my death.

You might also expect the tension of the biggest terrorist attack on American soil in 10 years to cause some ill-thought-out terror sex, but not in this book. Husbands and wives don't even seem to have much romance going on. It is somewhat notable that for these authors a "Christian" book meant essentially no sex but it could have a bodycount in the thousands. I say "essentially" no sex, in that there are two moments of passion: a wife offering to erotically scrub off the bodypaint of her superfan husband, and a wife waxing her husband's back hair on their honeymoon. There is a unique disappointment to a book about NFL life where the only instance of "three way" is a "three way call" between the hero, his father and his grandfather, who lovingly assure him it's God's will for him to take a break from the Air Force and play pro sports.

The acknowledgments for Monday Night Jihad begin with "Lord, we start with you. This has been, and will always be, Your project," which makes this book quite possibly the most horrible atrocity ever committed in God's name.

It seems so long ago, but it was really only about a year ago that the NFL and patriotism were perceived as being hand in hand. Now ratings have fallen and the perception of the NFL is a lot different. Even though this was written just a few years ago, it seems as dated as a hippie.

Riley Covington is a Spec Ops soldier who plays in a professional football league (PFL to prevent any copyright lawsuits). A starting All-Star Linebacker, he's a team leader. Terrorists bomb a game, killing athletes and spectators alike.

Because his former lieutenant now works for a super double secret agency, he is recruited to fight terrorists. This leads to a long sequence of "We're not so different, you and I" speeches, but also some pretty good action.

A weird mash-up of Christian, sports, and adventure novels that worked better a couple of years ago, but is still entertaining today.