Bald
How about Johny U, Bob Greise, Jim Kiick, Larry Csonka, Mercury Morris, Fran Tarkington, Allan Page, Carl Eller. Those are some of the names that I got to see this weekend along with Roger Stauback, Too Tall Jones, Randy White, Drew & Preston Pearson, Mike Ditka and Tony D, just to name a few.
oh, and I, too, can clutter this up with a poem albeit with no obvious connection:
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend, “If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,–
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm.”
Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street
Wanders and watches, with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,–
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town
And the moonlight flowing over al
pouncingtiger about 15 years ago
First round of mid-season tryouts.
fredbuhl about 15 years ago
I think Amanda’s dad was Dick Butkus.
GROG Premium Member about 15 years ago
ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL?
After watching all but one of the Cowboys 10 greatest games, I know I’m ready. I’ll watch the last game tonight.
Nice poem, Maresha.
A
bald about 15 years ago
fredbuhl
a namre i haven’t heard in a long time…. he was one of my most favorite players, right up there with gayle sayers
GROG Premium Member about 15 years ago
Bald How about Johny U, Bob Greise, Jim Kiick, Larry Csonka, Mercury Morris, Fran Tarkington, Allan Page, Carl Eller. Those are some of the names that I got to see this weekend along with Roger Stauback, Too Tall Jones, Randy White, Drew & Preston Pearson, Mike Ditka and Tony D, just to name a few.
Nighthawks Premium Member about 15 years ago
trip him up, I dont see a ref
Nighthawks Premium Member about 15 years ago
oh, and I, too, can clutter this up with a poem albeit with no obvious connection:
Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, “If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,– One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.”
Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,– By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town And the moonlight flowing over al
I suppose that’s enough for now….
A
FireMedic about 15 years ago
Detroit Lions hold open tryouts.
bald about 15 years ago
BC13:
talk about a walk down memory lane.. also having pro football played only on sundays
ramguy2014 about 15 years ago
i say clothesline him… with an actual clothesline