That's Pat Summerall, NY Giant kicker from the golden '50s and early '60s. He died yesterday at the age of 82 and the above photo headlined the story.
It's the 1959 game winning, division clinching field goal against the Cleveland Brown (ancestors of the present day Baltimore Ravens).
It was kicked during a snow storm and to this day no God fearing Christian who watched the game is willing to swear on a bible that the kick went through the uprights. Even Pat Summerall claimed he lost sight of the ball in the swirling flakes.
Back then, the NFL blacked out all home games, even if they were sold out. I listened to the game on the radio and almost passed out from holding my breath as I waited for the Giant's announcer Marty Glickman to make the call.
What fun it was then to listen to a game on the radio, any sport. Television and all the modern marvels of digital technology have taken some of the panache, the cache if you will, out of the thrilling experience of following the exploits of your team over the radio waves where your imagination was required to picture the contest.
The announcer describing the blinding snow and the frostbitten fingertips of players and fans alike...the emerald green grass of Yankee Stadium hidden beneath a sheet of mud stained snow, the wind howling like so many banshees from sideline to sideline.
A better time then, and not just because those were days of golden youth, my youth.
It was in every way a better time. (May hap, I'll talk about how some other time.)
This time, I remember the Giants...Sam Huff and Frank Gifford and Charlie Connerly and Rosey Brown and Rosey Grier and Jack Stroud and Mel Triplet and Kyle Rote and Y.A.Tittle and and Del Shofner and all the others, including Pat Summerall, whose exploits became so many warm memories in the hidden folds of my mind.
Thanks for the kick(s) Pat. Hope you're enjoying those golden uprights in heaven.
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