Larger Than Life

Jack Kent Cooke has never contributed to the center, and Came has never asked him to. But maybe things would have been different if Cooke had gone to Jackie's burial. Cooke made it to the funeral but left before the graveside ceremony, which meant he never got to see what one of Jackie's friends laid on the casket just before the shovelfuls of soil fell: an L.A. Kings hockey stick.

Die? Are you kidding? If there's one place a claustrophobe like Jack Kent Cooke doesn't want to end up, it's in a coffin. No, dear boy, the circle is not big enough yet, the contest is not nearly over. In fact, Cooke gets so excited about tomorrow that sometimes, along about three in the morning, he'll be out burning up the country roads in his Jaguar, thinking, hatching, plotting. He wants a Kentucky Derby win for Elmendorf and another Super Bowl title for the Redskins. He is trying to get the government to pitch in on his newest monument, Jack Kent Cooke Stadium, to cost $160 million. He has a little angina pain and a hearing aid, but nothing an ex-quarterback can't handle.

Life is bigger than ever. Look around. Who has the most beautiful wife, the most gorgeous home, the prettiest skyscraper and the fiercest team? It's funny, isn't it? How things turn out? Who would have thought that the son of a picture-frame salesman would turn all the world into one giant frame for a very wonderful portrait of himself?