Jerry Kramer reverently totes Vince Lombardi.
Garo Yepremian uncorks Super Bowl quasi-pass.
O.J. breaks Jim Brown's single-season rush mark.
These shoes weren't made for running, because the, knees above them were so bad. But the arm, savvy, release and life-style made Joe Namath's trademark footwear unfillable by anyone else. In the '69 Super Bowl he called his shot, and made the AFL a major league.
A TIMELESS PASTIME
A few years back, baseball suffered a rash of deprecations. It was called dated, too leisurely to gratify modern America's leisure-time urges. But the old ball game kept giving rise to new phenomena like the Mets and the A's, exposing new facets of such beloved classics as Mays, Musial and Stengel, and inspiring notable books by writers ranging from Jim Bouton to Philip Roth. Perhaps because of its measured pace baseball produces more nostalgia material—moments to mull and argue over at length—than other sports. And its heroes retain a distinctive savor. How would you like a bubble-gum card of everyone in flannels shown here?
Sandy Koufax, youngest to enter the Hall of Fame.
Ted Williams' last at bat, last home run.
Stan Musial probably could have hit in this position.
Henry Aaron herewith out-homers the Babe.