Mystic
Crusader
it was 1956, you were playing flag football with your chums and you uncorked a bomb that hit a streaking receiver in stride and The Man had been walking by and he stopped to watch and he came over and told you he could teach you how to do that every time. it was a magic moment, the sandlots are where the legends are born. if you had given him what you then turned and gave to tulpalips it might have been a mentor/protege thing on the order of king oliver/satchmo. it might have been going out as a senior going into the cotton bowl at 10-1 against an undefeated topranked crimson tide, stepping up in the fourth quarter down 40-23 and it ends 44-43 when with 37 seconds on the clock you scramble sixteen yards, smack dead center into the 'bama safety at the three, drive him into the endzone and you tell the story a thousand times, how you dropped back and flashed on the ball in your hand and it felt like the pigskin was glued to your fingertips then you saw a lane open up...
you know how many deals you can close in texas with a story like that?
all of them.
ahh mystic, you might have helped The Man stick it to The Bear.
now if you would be so kind as to tell the class his name?
Oh now I know what you're talking about. That was the crowning glory of my football career which ended right there. Whew! Escaped another path I didn't really care to go down.
