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A good-natured young pal of mine from the Evergreen State of Washington winged me a missive by email on Week One of the NFL season. Cheered by the Seahawks’ 9-6 victory over the Detroit Lions, he then made the mistake of looking at my all-time heavyweight rankings as he was retiring to bed to dream of Super Bowl glory. What rattled him most was the apparently premature onslaught of senile dementia (I am fifty after all) that prompted me to place Gene Tunney above Larry Holmes.
My friend’s rocket soared across the ocean with typical tongue-in-cheek sting, landing with some force in my peaceful little Kentish domain.
The warhead contained the following message: “These all-time rankings of yours are the work of a diabolical madman, Casey. One part genius, one part insanity, one part Nat Fleischer, one part Unabomber Ted Kacyzinski….”
I was getting along just fine with the ‘genius’ part until Mr Fleischer entered the fray. (Mr Kacyzinski I will quietly ignore). Ah, yes, the old Nat Fleischer jibe: a crafty weapon often deployed against men of my vintage who are perceived as being two steps away from the local rest home for punchy boxing writers. [details]
My friend’s rocket soared across the ocean with typical tongue-in-cheek sting, landing with some force in my peaceful little Kentish domain.
The warhead contained the following message: “These all-time rankings of yours are the work of a diabolical madman, Casey. One part genius, one part insanity, one part Nat Fleischer, one part Unabomber Ted Kacyzinski….”
I was getting along just fine with the ‘genius’ part until Mr Fleischer entered the fray. (Mr Kacyzinski I will quietly ignore). Ah, yes, the old Nat Fleischer jibe: a crafty weapon often deployed against men of my vintage who are perceived as being two steps away from the local rest home for punchy boxing writers. [details]
Thanks.
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