Word: jurgensens
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...Louis falters, the Washington Redskins are prepared to pounce, led by the aging master of the clutch pass, Sonny Jurgensen, 41. Not far behind are the Dallas Cowboys, who have bounced back from a dismal start with the help of powerful running by Fullback Calvin Hill. Whoever wins in the East will probably have the dubious pleasure of facing the rugged Minnesota Vikings in the playoffs, while the N.F.C.'s wildcard team-probably the runner-up in the East-will play the Los Angeles Rams, directed by gifted black Quarterback Jim Harris...
...Player of the Year. He threw a lot of interceptions (24) in 1971, though, and was taken out of the 49ers game with Buffalo this year with an injured wrist. With two touchdown tosses last week against New Orleans, he is still in better shape than Jurgensen, 38, who glowers on the bench (at $125,000 a year) while that determined disciplinarian, George Allen, sticks with disciplined Billy Kilmer at the Redskin helm. Unitas joined Namath on that stratospheric day in Baltimore to set an N.F.L. record for most passing yardage gained by two teams in one game...
...wearing the old high-top-style cleats that he sported when he broke in with the Baltimore Colts 16 seasons ago, is 38. John Brodie, a survivor of 15 colorful campaigns with the 49ers, is 36. Bart Starr of the Green Bay Packers is 38 and considering retiring. Sonny Jurgensen of the Washington Redskins is 37 and ailing. Griese, on the other hand, is only 26, and has already logged five seasons as a starter. Staubach is 29 and "in the best physical condition of my life...
Allen said before the game that quarterback Sonny Jurgensen, who has been out most of the season with an injury, would see a considerable amount of action. However starting quarterback Billy Kilmer played a near perfect game, completing 14 of 19 of his passes for 246 yards and 3 touchdowns, and was never in danger of being replaced...
...does offer relief from mundane cares. When I fall asleep, however, I begin to dream middle-aged dreams. I dream that I am old, egg-bald Y.A. Tittle in high-top shoes, running a bootleg into the end zone on my weary legs. Or I dream of being Sonny Jurgensen, proudly puffing out my potbelly as if it were a chest, fading back and letting go with the most accurate arm in the game. And when I awake, I feel somehow fit and fresh and ready...