The men look like
play-toy manikins from a seat high in the stands, and the thunder of their
conflict is lost in the noise of the crowd. But seen from field level at the
sidelines, these same men are gargantuan; there one hears the sounds of
battle—the heavy thud of flesh on flesh and the shouts and cries of combatants
in violent physical contact. On the next nine pages Artist Bob Peak brings to
life the closeup color of professional football. Here is the way the players
see and feel the game and here, too, is how they look when they play it. It is
a ballet of bulky elephants—bruising, yet curiously graceful and always
On the bench the
big men sit quietly tense, waiting and thinking of action past and action to
pounds of determined man and an air-filled leather ball move toward enemy
territory, soon to be met by an equally determined defense.
chat while awaiting the start of the second half. There is a curious quiet in
the arena as the first team streams out of the dressing room. Soon the battle
will again he joined, each team testing the adjustments made during the
conferences between halves.
At the moment the
hall is snapped, the battering hulk of opposing linemen meet head on like bulls
in mortal combat, igniting a violent human explosion.
contest is over and, hooded against the cold of evening, the teams trudge off
the playing field, tired and silent whether in victory or defeat.