- TOP PLAYERSOffensePABLO S. TORRE | August 20, 2012
- TAMPA BAY buccaneersENEMY lines WHAT A RIVAL COACH SAYSJune 28, 2012
- Faces in the CrowdJune 11, 2001
After a heavy noonday meal there's a lecture by the head coach for the entire squad. You're so sleepy you can't hold your head up—until a hotfoot, applied no doubt by an "artist," wakes you up with a yell. The head coach seems to notice you for the first time.
Back to-the dressing room after that, for afternoon practice. Two more hours of fundamentals. Drill, drill, drill. When you're finally dismissed the coach warns that everybody should be in bed by 10:30. That's the most useless speech of the season. By 8 o'clock you're all in the sack, except maybe those dancing girls in the backfield.
Then, suddenly, school starts. Only one practice a day! Next week you open with State. Gone are the aches and pains. Here come the headlines!
GENTLE ART OF SWORDPLAY
THE WONDERFUL MOMENT
At one o'clock E.S.T. next Wednesday afternoon millions of Americans will fall as one into a state of semihypnosis so profound in many cases as to be broken only by flood, fire, earthquake—or a burned-out electrical fuse. Radios of parked cars will speak loudly to gathering knots of people in dusty western wheat towns and shaded southern villages. Nothing—not even a Presidential election—grips the U.S. people in quite the same fashion as the World Series. It is a herald of the balmy advent of autumn, an excuse for office pools, a source of black, exciting but delightfully harmless headlines. It raises wondrous ghosts—Tinker, Evers and Chance, Honus Wagner, Christy Mathewson (who can remember how they looked?) and Babe Ruth (ah, who can forget?). And it elevates with high drama those eternal American folk figures, the pitcher and the batter.
What attitudes from the American past are not wrapped up in the man on the mound as he stands, stolid, cunning, contemptuous—and on the brink of awful ridicule—awaiting the catcher's sign. He is rifleman, cardsharp, horse trader, all wrapped up in one. Sometimes he is Dewey at Manila Bay, as well, and sometimes he is the farmer who lost his money to a dip at the county fair. And the man with the bat who faces him? Why none other than Mighty Casey, of course. As it listens to the oft-told tale of their adventures next week the U.S., as always, will be able to like itself a little better.
SPIRIT OF NOTRE DAME
OF FISH AND FISHERMEN