"I can't explain the tidbits I try to cram away," Sheridan says. He might walk to nearby Ladd Stadium "to get closer to football," to summon "the feeling." At home Danny slips into his lucky robe, a multicolored checkered velour and terry cloth eyesore he says seldom lets him down. He reviews record books and coaches' quotes from last year's newspapers.
"Sometimes I shake all that information around up there, and nothing comes out," Sheridan says. So he retires. But every once in a while, Sheridan swears, he bolts upright in bed, awakened like a man smelling smoke, having dreamed a glimpse of a game. "I dreamed about that Kansas game last year," he says. "I saw players jumping up and down and fans going wild in the stands. It was my three-star Sheridan Special for the whole year."
And yet there still is no Sheridan tip sheet, nor will there probably ever be one. "I think the whole thing has started to get out of hand," he says. "I'd rather keep it a hobby. But if a friend wants some advice, I'm still available."