By By Tim Keown

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Here comes football's reigning diva in a good mood. You hear him before you see him. He's singing from deep inside the made-for-Minnesota hood of his jacket. It's a subzero Monday, and he's floating up to his locker like all the great ones -- head up, gaze straight ahead, careful to avoid eye contact. He is a man who gets bothered, and men who get bothered train themselves to be all alone in a roomful of people. It is a kind of art. He gets to his locker -- a Vesuvial collection of shoes and ge ...

Read full story | Create Your Profile

Sort comments by: Most Recent | First Posted