The NFL community lost one of its brightest stars as Deacon (David) Jones passed away yesterday at the age of 74. He revolutionized the defensive end position in the NFL by bringing blazing speed (and the head-slap) to the position, and wreaked havoc on quarterbacks throughout his time in the NFL. He of course coined the term ‘sack’ and turned it into the measure of a great pass rusher. He, by all accounts, retired as the sack leader in the NFL with a total of 194½ sacks (Pro Football Weekly). Since passed by Bruce Smith and Reggie White.
I did see him and the Fearsome Foursome play back in the day, and the guy was relentless. Defensive players at the time weren’t nearly as fast as Deacon, and no one covered the field from sideline to sideline like he did. The Niners were dogmeat in the 60s during most of Deacon’s tenure in LA, and even when the Niners made their playoff push from 69-71, they still had trouble with the Rams and their defense. I hated Roman Gabriel and the Rams with a passion, but you couldn’t help but admire the intense ferocity and determination Deacon Jones brought to the NFL every game and every play. R.I.P. Deacon Jones.
Deacon about to put a head slap on Bob St. Clair
Forty Niners Forever 
Reno is absolutely right on this one.
You have to build from the trenches.
Deacon Jones knew that.
If I had Jerruh Jones money, I’d show him how to build a team.
Greatly, he has the money, no brains for football, and no passion, and now he’s passing it on to his son the new GM.
Well, we certainly added bodies to the D line. How they work out remains to be seen.
Speaking of prison, the Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, has died in San Quentin.
Probably choked on a hot dog.
Yeah, but which orifice?
Hopefully all of them.
Takes time to build lines, Chuck. Lots of time and lots of coaching.
Justin will probably want to play until he drops.
You’ve got to spell him and ease him into retirement and coaching.
He’ll be a helluva coach.
Here’s one, Chuckster.
One time at my job in Sunnyvale my bud and I had to go to this training seminar, run by the folks from the software company in Bedford, MA.
They obviously didn’t know the area well and missed Silicon Valley by about 60 miles.
My bud and I go out on break and it’s like, “Look! There’s San Quentin!”
They held the seminar right down the street within spitting distance of death row.
Good times.
Chuck, my cousin (Chuck also by coincidence) found The City by the Bay on his way to the Korean Police Action.
When he got back, he went to USF. Learned every street by heart and as a real estate agent, still knew them when he was 70.
I always had to drive in those days, but with him I learned to sit still and just look.
And I thought I knew. I tried to avoid the traffic leaving Candlestick by unconventional means.
One time wound up driving through Hunter’s Point, but the worst was the day I turned south and got lost in some godforsaken industrial area way after dark.
Finally found my way to the Bayshore and got home.
Freakin’ good times. I’m too old for that scheist now, but I don’t regret it one bit.
Chuck, I apologize for old man failing memory.
Is it Land’s End in the NW of the City. Beautiful, quiet, nobody knew about it.
You could see the bridge to the East, and you could look straight down into the ocean from the woods.
Walter O’Malley may have swindled the NY Giants back then, but Chavez Ravine is a smoggy overcrowded peace of trash now.
And I got to see Juan Marichal pitch, Willie Mays and Willie McCovey play. Now there’s the new park and when my friend and I went to one of the first games, KTVU tried to put us on the news because we came so early to enjoy the sun.
Alas, we were eating Togo’s sandwiches and not the new garlic fries. Didn’t make TV.
Wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Yup, RTF. Due north of the Cliff House and the Sutro Baths.
I was checking out some old YouTube vids of #16 today.
Hank Stram called him “A Piece of Work”.
Kappy has big shoes to fill.
BTW, I blew out my back awhile ago and I’ll I’ve to do for now is sit, relax, and blog.
Back’s almost better. Hell, I survived cancer. I’ll croak when the big Football God in the Sky calls my number.
Bored Shitless until my back heals, Chuck.
I’ve been watching vids of #16.
Fuckin’ unbelievable. How come nobody drafted this guy until the 3rd?
They’re running the 145th Belmont Stakes today. Who do you like? Who gives a shit. More importantly, who do I like? ORB. I’m sticking with my Derby and Preakness pick to bounce back off that oinker in Baltimore. Truth be told, that is my biggest detriment as a handicapper and gambler of the thoroughbreds. I get too attached and emotionally involved with a certain horse and horse and I stick with with him or her through thick and then regardless if my head tells me if they’re a good bet or not. Hey! It’s only money.
1)ORB
2)FREEDOM CHILD
3)REVOLUTIONARY
And I’d be remiss if I didn’t post Secretariat’s win in the ’73 Belmont to complete his Triple Crown. Without doubt, the greatest single day performance in sports history by any athlete. Man or animal.
Del, I’d argue for this day.
How grumpy!
Dennis, after the mare stepped on his leg (the first time Secretariat had ever raced competively with a mare), they put him to sleep and did an autopsy.
His heart was 3x bigger than any other racehorse. That allowed him to take in 3x more oxygen than any other horse.
A little special feed perhaps? We’ll never know now.
I’m going back to Montana vids and the glory days. Screw horse racing.
Joe and Dwight used to hang out at this sports bar in Los Gatos not far from where I lived.
Until he met Jennifer in that shaving cream commercial and they’ve been married ever since.
For the first time in his life, Joe got his ass kicked. I think he’s been a much happier man since.
And Jerruh – we have Kappy and now Nate Montana and you don’t. Have yourself a pretzel.
Dennis, if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you a story.
My friends out here owned three horses, not racehorses, just fun horses.
I used to feed them all the time, but grain ain’t cheap. They love carrots, cabbage, anything they can sink their teeth into.
Forty gallon troughs are fun to fill when the horses are staring at you waiting.
Horses are four hooves you pour money into.
Fun as hell, though, but I’m disabled and I just can’t do it anymore.
I’m not sure what they did with the third.
They had to put the gelding down recently because he busted his leg.
Now they just have the mare, but I’m sure they’ll find a mate for her.
Funniest day, Dennis, is when I had to go to the new next door neighbors and knock on their door.
“Excuse me, I know I’m bothering you, but our horse is in your backyard.”
Feisty young Chiquita.
That was the mare my friends still have, but I think she’s settled down now.
Love horses, just can’t afford them.
T E B OW
again……
new thread is up . . .