- ‘I Am Alive’ app gains popularity in terror-ravaged Lebanon
- Gun giveaways gain popularity among Republican candidates
- S.C. hospital worker slapped with $525 federal fine for refilling $0.89 soda
- Teen from ‘Jihad Jane’ plot becomes youngest ever to serve time on U.S. terror charges
- Iranian woman forgives son’s killer at the gallows
- Nebraska principal sorry for ‘don’t tattle’ flier
- Illinois readies to spend $100M for Obama museum in Chicago
- John Edwards back in court — this time as a lawyer for Va. boy’s malpractice case
- Covered California reports more than 200K in overtime Obamacare sign-ups
- Thanks, Chuck: Hagel says U.S. sending Ukraine sleeping mats, helmets
Topic - Sonny Jurgensen
Fifty years later, the decision by Pete Rozelle — the man who helped usher the NFL into its place today in America as the national passion — to allow football to be played while feelings were still so raw over JFK's death is still a dark cloud over his legacy.
In Robert Griffin III's NFL debut Sunday, the rookie quarterback transformed the Superdome's 13 acres into his personal playground as the Washington Redskins shocked the New Orleans Saints, 40-32.
As late-summer darkness blanketed Washington one night last month, the quarterback came to life. The familiar braids and right arm that hasn't unleashed a regular-season NFL pass towered 74 feet over Pennsylvania Avenue.
Quarterbacks watch so much game tape that it makes their eyeballs bleed. They're often the first players on the practice field, the last to leave. They're smart, for the most part, and they're leaders — let's not forget that. Leaders of large men in times of crisis.
"They were two bad teams," Jurgensen said (Washington was 3-8, while Philadelphia was 2-8-1).
"We had fights," said Sonny Jurgensen, who was playing for the Eagles in 1963. "Nobody wanted to play that game. It felt like a preseason game. Everybody was in shock."