But Why Me, Coach?

"They had it in for you," his wife said. "Don't ask me why."

Bundra went on: "Maybe on the runs I play the man opposite different from what they want. My habit is to play him soft, not kill him, just to pop him and get rid of him and then go on the pursuit. That's the way Alex Karras does it. Sometimes he hardly touches his man to get around him. That's my style, too. That's what I learned. But maybe Allie and Pop Ivy, the defense coach, they want me to do different, to kill the guy in front. Well, I'll do that—I'll do what they want. But they got to come to me and say something. I mean, how can I do what they want if they don't tell me?"

"Don't you change for nobody," his wife said. "You do what you learned best."

Bundra got up and turned on the television set. A few days before, he and his wife had watched the Giant-Cardinal game. He had rooted for the Giants to win. His wife joshed him half humorously for doing so. She cheered heartily for the Cardinals. "What's wrong with you, anyway?" she had asked.

"It's a good team," her husband had said. "I can't knock them. I love pro ball. I can't knock anything about it. It's been good to me."