I take no pride in the fact that he was hurt on the play, though one thought did cross my mind. Better him than me.
...posted by eritain at 9:23 AM on September 10, 2007
I knew him at once, despite his pathetic clothes;
Something in his stance, or his sturdy frame
Perhaps. I could even remember his name
Before I saw it on his blind-man's tray. Billy Rose.
And twenty forgetful years fell away at the sight.
Bare-kneed, dismayed, memory fled to the hub
Of Saturday violence, with friends to the Labour Club,
Watching the boxing on a sawdust summer night.
...
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And when he says "My mom will probably hate reading this, but more than the paycheck or the camaraderie of the locker room, I will really miss the violence. It is just an amazing and pure primal feeling that you really don't understand if you have never had the chance to do it," it reminded me of the dazzling new Nike commercial that just came out, set to the theme from Last of the Mohicans.
Not a Nike shill. That thing just sends chills up and down my spine.
posted by bijou at 4:00 PM on September 9, 2007