Word: dickey
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Pure Velocity. Few athletes have the protean talent to do that, which is why there have been only a handful of authentic superstar catchers in the chronicle of baseball. Roger Bresnahan, who teamed with Christy Mathewson on the old New York Giants, was probably the earliest, and Bill Dickey of the 1930s New York Yankees was possibly the greatest. Others in the pantheon are Gabby Hartnett, Detroit's Mickey Cochrane, and an earlier Redleg, Ernie Lombardi, whose style and skills closely parallel Bench's own. It may well be that Josh Gibson of the Homestead Grays...
...carno question invites endless literary lawyering. Is it not possible, for instance, to write excitingly about violence without being a carnographer? Yes, of course; James Jones' fine combat novel The Thin Red Line is not carno, nor is James Dickey's Deliverance, nor Ross Macdonald's Lew Archer stories. Mickey Spillane's 1, the Jury is carno. No, it is not possible to draw a line, and yes, David Morrell's First Blood is unmistakably carno, well over the line that can't be drawn...
...good pitching and good hitting like always, but there's more to winning than just statistics. Some of the best players in the league would have sold their souls to beat us out for the pennant, but in a clutch situation, they would always back down. When DiMaggio or Dickey came to the plate with the winning run on base, the opposing pitcher just knew he was going to lose, and he'd give up. It happened all the time...
...announce the third reading in this Spring's poetry informals series. Robert Ullian, who runs a prose workshop at South House and who is most recently published in this month's Esquire (an antiwar article about dog food), and Lewis Sckolnick, a Cambridge poet who has studied with James Dickey and Anais Nin, will read from their work tonight at 8 p.m. in the Advocate House, 21 South Street...
...mistake of refining themselves clear out of our common sensibility. This was an across the board sweep affecting all the arts. Eliot and Pound, along with Robert Lowell and John Berryman, have as little to do with our basic experiences as I.M. Pei has to do with Route 66, Dickey holds up Theodore Roethke, the Michigan poet who celebrated the greenhouses and gardens of his early life with simple, crystalline language, as the kind of poet who can bring off the new poetic revolution against these oppressive forces. Roethke is a good start, but we need someone...