Sportswriters are a rude and brainless subculture of fascist drunks

February is always a bad month for TV sports. Football is gone, basketball is plodding along in the annual midseason doldrums, and baseball is not even mentioned.

Smart people understand that there is no such thing as paranoia. It is just another mask for ignorance.

Like most of the others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser.

Ah, lives there a man with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said As he hunched and rolled in his comfortable bed: To hell with the rent . . . I'll drink instead!

Call on God, but row away from the rocks.

I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger: A man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.