For the first and last time, he was up there on the lightning green, where some have a prayer — some have a putt — and some, unbelieving, snatch greatness from another man’s...
Формат:
только полные версии
The guys you lick don’t make you a champ, kid — it’s the guys who lick you... whose red leather roars till that final...
When the season died out to just one more down — one more play — ten guys put their chips on a back field clown who won with a grin, lost with a laugh — and fought for eleven men’s...
If you’ve faced shell fire, football’s easy — should be, that...
Every ring champ knows the time when he’s too slow, too tired — too old to win. For those who can’t quit, there’s only one thing to do — lean into the storm of red leather and keep on trying...
They had him on the spot, this clean, big boy who knew his day in the ring had passed and wanted to hang up his gloves. But Big John had one friend who wouldn’t hesitate to match a rotten deal with equally shady trickery to right a...
He was the Golden Stallions’ pass-snaring demon who could whiz downfield like a scared coyote and go up in the air like a crazy kangaroo for the payoff pigskin... ’til old man Dollar Sign cramped his...
Some backs are born to glory — some achieve it — but sometimes, in the heart-testing minute before the final gun, only never-quit cleats will run the man...
Bad blood and gas don’t mix the thunder stretch — the stretch where the hellions of the deadly oval meet to drive their bargain for glory — or...
They were four glory-starved ball-toters who’d lost their way — till they found it in the other guys’...