R
Raiders
Guest
I know Jenkins excels in writing about golf, but I miss his football stories to this day. Those stories had muscle, grit and everything else that comes with big-time football gamers.
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Raiders said:I know Jenkins excels in writing about golf, but I miss his football stories to this day. Those stories had muscle, grit and everything else that comes with big-time football gamers.
In the land of the pickup truck and cream gravy for breakfast, down where the wind can blow through the walls of a diner and into the grieving lyrics of a country song on a jukebox—down there in dirt-kicking Big Eight territory—they played a football game on Thanksgiving Day that was mainly for the quarterbacks on the field and for self-styled gridiron intellectuals everywhere. The spectacle itself was for everybody, of course, for all of those who had been waiting weeks for Nebraska to meet Oklahoma, or for all the guys with their big stomachs and bigger Stetsons, and for all the luscious coeds who danced through the afternoons drinking daiquiris out of paper cups. But the game of chess that was played with bodies, that was strictly for the cerebral types who will keep playing it into the ages and wondering whether it was the greatest collegiate football battle ever. Under the agonizing conditions that existed, it well may have been.
And from the same story, one of my favorite paragraphs in sportswriting, on Johnny Rodgers' punt return:Versatile said:Raiders said:I know Jenkins excels in writing about golf, but I miss his football stories to this day. Those stories had muscle, grit and everything else that comes with big-time football gamers.
Agreed.
In the land of the pickup truck and cream gravy for breakfast, down where the wind can blow through the walls of a diner and into the grieving lyrics of a country song on a jukebox—down there in dirt-kicking Big Eight territory—they played a football game on Thanksgiving Day that was mainly for the quarterbacks on the field and for self-styled gridiron intellectuals everywhere. The spectacle itself was for everybody, of course, for all of those who had been waiting weeks for Nebraska to meet Oklahoma, or for all the guys with their big stomachs and bigger Stetsons, and for all the luscious coeds who danced through the afternoons drinking daiquiris out of paper cups. But the game of chess that was played with bodies, that was strictly for the cerebral types who will keep playing it into the ages and wondering whether it was the greatest collegiate football battle ever. Under the agonizing conditions that existed, it well may have been.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1085606/index.htm
Moderator1 said:yeah, you don't get to 210 majors without starting young and staying old.
Damn right about his fiction. Dead Solid Perfect may be his best, though it didn't get as much acclaim as Semi Tough.