The #Humblebragger

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten Oilers lore—     While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a thudding, As of some one violently chopping, chopping at my chamber door. “’Tis Earl Campbell,” I muttered, “running over some defender poor—             Only this

NFL Speakeasy Stories

/with deepest apologies and acknowledgment to Blaxabbath He was alone, again, and again with a drink in his hand that he didn't recall ordering.  The bar was small and dimly lit and he liked that but he'd be damned if he could recall the name.  His drink, whatever it was called,

A Psalm of Tim

The Lord is my QB Coach, I shall not play pro ball. He maketh me hurl the ball into the green pastures at the feet of my wide open receivers; He leadeth my more fleet receivers to the deep still waters beyond 20 yards, waters my underthrown, side-arm passes cannot reach. He

Rogermandias

I met a traveller from a land of over-priced antiques, possibly Cotuit Who said: "Two vast and trunkless arms of stone developed by years of one-armed push-ups Lie in the asphaltt . . . Near them, on the median, Half covered with graffiti, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold