Reddpath

An hour later my teammates and I were in the locker room circled around Trevor Windgate, who was on a scale, hands on hips and wearing only a burgundy pair of silk bikini briefs. If it had been two-hundred years earlier he might have been a Mandingo at a slave auction. Team trainer Danny Fazlow slid the scale’s metal weights forth and back until balance was achieved. “Two hundred twenty-three pounds” Fazlow said. “You’ve arrived just as advertised.” When the weigh-in ceremony ended I went my locker to get ready for practice. Next to me was last year’s starting guard, LeVoy Wiggin. Wiggin raised an arm and applied a fresh layer of scented Red Zone deodorant. “You ever stop to think life might not be worth living?” he asked. “Odd way to start a conversation,” I said. “What better way to start one on a day like this? I’m the disappearing man. In fact, as of today I’m officially invisible. You won’t see me because I’m hidden behind the gigantic shadow of

One of the most controversial events of Marciano family life was sister Maria’s decision to marry. It wasn’t the act of marriage itself, but who she married that caused a family crisis. Maria’s attraction to men the size and strength of Hercules sent her hurtling towards the altar with a sizable Sicilian named Shekko Lombardi. My brother-in-law’s style with everyone he brushed up against was purely confrontational. That didn’t matter to Maria, who liked her men big, strong, bellicose and chauvinistic. Nothing refreshed my sister’s sexual passions more urgently than being physically dominated by the male of the species. That domination took forms ranging from general manhandling to being forced to participate in unusual bedroom acts still outlawed in several southern U.S. states. Despite its fetishes, the marriage sailed along, both partners getting what they wanted. It tripped over just one crisis, a suspected affair. Shekko was making a routine rummage through Maria’s pu