Copyrighted Image? DMCA | I still remember my first football game. It was 1983. I was six. My father took me to our local high school, in northern New Jersey, and we sat on the home team's side, but it wasn't long before my allegiance began to waver. The opponents, from a town called Passaic, were clearly superior -- or, rather, they had a superior player whose simple talents were easy to identify in a game so complex and jumbled-seeming that even lifelong fans do not fully understand it. He wasn't the biggest person on the field, and probably not the fastest, but he was strangely fast for a big person and unusually big for a fast person. He played both sides of the ball: running back and linebacker. He was also the kicker, and he returned punts....As my father and I searched for his name in the program, a man seated a couple of rows in front of us spun around and said, "They call him Ironhead." |
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