Hostile
The Duke
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Damn I miss Blackie Sherrod. In a day and age where we all get so in a twist over what the media has to say about our Cowboys it is such a painful reminder of just how good Blackie really was at what he did.
I feel sorry for some of the younger fans of this team sometimes. Us old goats saw Staubach in his majesty. Saw Tom Landry walk the parapets of legend and we enjoyed the writings of giants like Frank Luksa and Blackie Sherrod.
goliadmike reminded me of Blackie in the thread about Keith Brooking standing up to Steve Dennis. I felt almost guilty that I had not remembered him. Like I was kicked in the gut. The younger guys never got to read Blackie Sherrod, and because he didn't buy into his own celebrity or greatness there is very little to show you about what we mean. Dan Jenkins book about him is perhaps the best chance you have to read and know Blackie. I confess I don't even own a copy myself and later today I resolve to correct that.
This morning I did something I should have done a long time ago. I did a search for Blackie Sherrod. I ended up finding an article that had a few snippets of why he was so great. Let me paraphrase one reason by saying, he didn't take any of this so serious.
That is where the DFW media of today really lose me sometimes even though I have tremendous respect for every one of them. I actually cringe at some of the comments people make. But I am sure they are amused by them. I know I would be if I were in their shoes.
Blackie was different than them. I never knew this story until this morning. Tim Cowlishaw went to see Blackie the day he was hired and he asked him if he had any advice. Blackie responded, "if I am asked." Tim Cowlishaw never asked. I guess he got offended that the great man was not a muse or a sensei or a Dhali Llama of literary greatness who was there to be plucked. He never saw himself as a teacher on how to write, but oh my gosh could he do it like few others can.
Here are a couple of excerpts from the article I read this morning that brought back so many memories.
"You feel better after reading Blackie." Frank Luksa said that. The reason was clear too. You understood it was just a freaking game even if you still made it the pinnacle of importance.
"If Wilt Chamberlain is just another Center, then the Grand Canyon is just a ditch." Blackie Sherrod said that. Subtle humor like this was a tool of his that made you understand the difference between greatness and good enough. He also said this...
"In a perfect world, a fair world, Bob Hayes should be forced to carry a small calf on his shoulders when he runs the dashes...Mark Spitz should swim with a sea anchor...Ella Fitzgerald should sing every note with a mouth full of Tootsie Rolls."
See the subtle humor while he really describes greatness?
He wrote this after Kennedy was assassinated.
"Sports dangle and amuse the fringe of lives. What is important is that there is such hate afoot in the world...such seared minds that shout insults at elected leaders, spit on people, and yes, even press finger against trigger...It is civilization itself that has been penalized half the distance to the goal line."
I am sorry, but I don't think many writers today are capable of that kind of poignant commentary. You want to know how deep the thoughts of Blackie Sherrod were? This is what he wrote about one day in August 1945 as he flew over what was left of Hiroshima, Japan in a bomber.
"The dominant impression was of ferric oxide, not the deep color of iron rust but a faded shade. Not a pastel hue, pleasant to the eye. This was a harsh color, harsh and pale at the same time. As far as you could see in that hasty moment, everything wore that same dead, depressing blanket. . . . There seemed to be a strange odor, permeating even the turret of a rushing aircraft, a sort of musty smell, like of old houses, dark and shuttered against the outside. . . . We were aware of no living creature or plant ... we saw nothing but a vast, flat wasteland covered with this pale red dust."
Now let me bring this back to you about football and Tom Landry and why Blackie Sherrod was so danged good. He wrote this to describe why Tom Landry was great.
"Nearly as I can remember, Dorothy Lamour was not there. But she certainly would not have been out of place, with a red print sarong and a white hibiscus blossom in her flowing dark tresses. She could have padded barefoot through the lush grass carpet under the rusty old palms, stepped around the fallen coconuts, so long on the ground that they had taken root in the tropical lushness and sent fresh young green shoots through the rotting husks. She could have emerged from the shadows onto the narrow beach, a clean, curving blend of white and beige, with hard coral crests on the jutting flanks.
The Caribbean waters, interrupted by occasional long furl of whitecap, were blue as a baby's eyes. On the horizon, there was a dramatic break to a pale sky. The only signal of man was a sort of primitive umbrella, a thatched bowl atop an upright pole. Underneath, in a lawn chair embedded in sand, was a muscular man in flowery trunks, head bent in hypnotic fascination on an object in his lap. Occasionally, the man would lift his eyes and stare unseeingly at the horizon, then bend again in study.
Dorothy Lamour was missing all right, but had she paraded the beach in slinky seduction, she wouldn't have drawn a flick of notice. The man was Tom Landry of, oh, an eon past, and the object in his lap was a thick, looseleaf binder. It was a Dallas Cowboys' playbook."
Brad Sham, Frank Luksa, and Blackie Sherrod. We talk about being spoiled as Cowboys fan by the greatness of the Landry years and the early 90's dynasty. And we were. Make no mistake about that. We've also had the very best bringing these moments to life for us as well. It is as clear to me as crystal waters in a mountain stream. Like the water it rushes right on by us and we can fail to realize just how cool it really is.
Damn I miss Blackie Sherrod.
I feel sorry for some of the younger fans of this team sometimes. Us old goats saw Staubach in his majesty. Saw Tom Landry walk the parapets of legend and we enjoyed the writings of giants like Frank Luksa and Blackie Sherrod.
goliadmike reminded me of Blackie in the thread about Keith Brooking standing up to Steve Dennis. I felt almost guilty that I had not remembered him. Like I was kicked in the gut. The younger guys never got to read Blackie Sherrod, and because he didn't buy into his own celebrity or greatness there is very little to show you about what we mean. Dan Jenkins book about him is perhaps the best chance you have to read and know Blackie. I confess I don't even own a copy myself and later today I resolve to correct that.
This morning I did something I should have done a long time ago. I did a search for Blackie Sherrod. I ended up finding an article that had a few snippets of why he was so great. Let me paraphrase one reason by saying, he didn't take any of this so serious.
That is where the DFW media of today really lose me sometimes even though I have tremendous respect for every one of them. I actually cringe at some of the comments people make. But I am sure they are amused by them. I know I would be if I were in their shoes.
Blackie was different than them. I never knew this story until this morning. Tim Cowlishaw went to see Blackie the day he was hired and he asked him if he had any advice. Blackie responded, "if I am asked." Tim Cowlishaw never asked. I guess he got offended that the great man was not a muse or a sensei or a Dhali Llama of literary greatness who was there to be plucked. He never saw himself as a teacher on how to write, but oh my gosh could he do it like few others can.
Here are a couple of excerpts from the article I read this morning that brought back so many memories.
"You feel better after reading Blackie." Frank Luksa said that. The reason was clear too. You understood it was just a freaking game even if you still made it the pinnacle of importance.
"If Wilt Chamberlain is just another Center, then the Grand Canyon is just a ditch." Blackie Sherrod said that. Subtle humor like this was a tool of his that made you understand the difference between greatness and good enough. He also said this...
"In a perfect world, a fair world, Bob Hayes should be forced to carry a small calf on his shoulders when he runs the dashes...Mark Spitz should swim with a sea anchor...Ella Fitzgerald should sing every note with a mouth full of Tootsie Rolls."
See the subtle humor while he really describes greatness?
He wrote this after Kennedy was assassinated.
"Sports dangle and amuse the fringe of lives. What is important is that there is such hate afoot in the world...such seared minds that shout insults at elected leaders, spit on people, and yes, even press finger against trigger...It is civilization itself that has been penalized half the distance to the goal line."
I am sorry, but I don't think many writers today are capable of that kind of poignant commentary. You want to know how deep the thoughts of Blackie Sherrod were? This is what he wrote about one day in August 1945 as he flew over what was left of Hiroshima, Japan in a bomber.
"The dominant impression was of ferric oxide, not the deep color of iron rust but a faded shade. Not a pastel hue, pleasant to the eye. This was a harsh color, harsh and pale at the same time. As far as you could see in that hasty moment, everything wore that same dead, depressing blanket. . . . There seemed to be a strange odor, permeating even the turret of a rushing aircraft, a sort of musty smell, like of old houses, dark and shuttered against the outside. . . . We were aware of no living creature or plant ... we saw nothing but a vast, flat wasteland covered with this pale red dust."
Now let me bring this back to you about football and Tom Landry and why Blackie Sherrod was so danged good. He wrote this to describe why Tom Landry was great.
"Nearly as I can remember, Dorothy Lamour was not there. But she certainly would not have been out of place, with a red print sarong and a white hibiscus blossom in her flowing dark tresses. She could have padded barefoot through the lush grass carpet under the rusty old palms, stepped around the fallen coconuts, so long on the ground that they had taken root in the tropical lushness and sent fresh young green shoots through the rotting husks. She could have emerged from the shadows onto the narrow beach, a clean, curving blend of white and beige, with hard coral crests on the jutting flanks.
The Caribbean waters, interrupted by occasional long furl of whitecap, were blue as a baby's eyes. On the horizon, there was a dramatic break to a pale sky. The only signal of man was a sort of primitive umbrella, a thatched bowl atop an upright pole. Underneath, in a lawn chair embedded in sand, was a muscular man in flowery trunks, head bent in hypnotic fascination on an object in his lap. Occasionally, the man would lift his eyes and stare unseeingly at the horizon, then bend again in study.
Dorothy Lamour was missing all right, but had she paraded the beach in slinky seduction, she wouldn't have drawn a flick of notice. The man was Tom Landry of, oh, an eon past, and the object in his lap was a thick, looseleaf binder. It was a Dallas Cowboys' playbook."
Brad Sham, Frank Luksa, and Blackie Sherrod. We talk about being spoiled as Cowboys fan by the greatness of the Landry years and the early 90's dynasty. And we were. Make no mistake about that. We've also had the very best bringing these moments to life for us as well. It is as clear to me as crystal waters in a mountain stream. Like the water it rushes right on by us and we can fail to realize just how cool it really is.
Damn I miss Blackie Sherrod.
