The Seventies

A frozen night in late September 1978. Every game meant extinction for the Sox. The Tigers at Fenway. Torrez looks great and preserves a 2-1 lead thanks to a Rice homer. With a man on second--forget who--a Tiger--forget who--singles sharply up the middle. Fred Lynn charges, scoops, throws, watches and jumps up like a little kid when the umpire grunts.

Garo Yepremian's pass.

Cornbread Maxwell leads some place called the University of North Carolina-Charlotte to the NCAA final four and seems to have fun doing it.

Double-play ball to Felix Millan. Harrelson covers the bag, takes the flip and relays to first. Routine. The shortstop is smothered by one angry Pete Rose. The benches clear quickly, and then come the bullpens. Buzz Capra, running, screaming and waving his arms.

Freshman football in front of 30 people in New Jersey. Ron Cuccia throwing in the first half. He seems to complete every pass and when he doesn't he runs like a blind rabbit dodging orange trees.

Reggie. Three times, one night, October 1977.

Joe Namath and Johnny Unitas. Both near the ends of their careers. One meaningless game between two mediocre teams. They duel without every being on the field at the same time. In each series they seem worried that they'll never play again so it's all out, all afternoon. No short passes. Bombs. Rich Caster catches three. Forget who won. It doesn't matter.