Sport: A Man's Game

'A Man's Game' (See Cover) The quarterback snaps "Let's go," the eleven burly men clap their hands in a single, sharp crack, and the offensive huddle dissolves. Then, taking his place behind the looming rump of his center, the quarterback looks with narrowed eyes across the line of scrimmage at the most formidable sight in professional football.

The four blue-jerseyed men facing him are mountains of muscle. Alert and agile as jungle cats, two linebackers crouch outside the ends. Ranged in an arc behind them are four lean, whippet-fast backs.

And a bare 2 yds. away from the quarter back, returning his stare in challenge, waits the key man of the proud New York Giant defense: Middle Linebacker Sam Huff (6 ft. 1 in., 230 lbs.), a confident, smiling fighter fired with a devout desire to sink a thick shoulder into every ball carrier in the National Football League.

Rugged Red-Dogging. Sunday after Sunday, pro quarterbacks have learned that whatever play they call, Huff is likely to be in front of it. Sam Huff is strong enough to flatten a plunging fullback such as the Chicago Bears' Rick Casares (6 ft. 2½ in., 225 Ibs.), swift enough to recover from a block in time to nail a halfback sprinting around end, smart enough to diagnose pass patterns and throw an offensive end off stride with an artful shoulder. But Huff is at his rugged best when he knifes through the line and "red-dogs" a quarterback as he fades to pass.

The crash of Huff's tackle can stir the Giant bench to bellowing glee, set the rabid fans in Yankee Stadium to rumbling out their own rapid-fire cheer like the chugging of a steam engine : "Huff-Huff-Huff-Huff-Huff." When Sam is on the field, the toughest fans in the U.S.'s toughest sport see what they came to see.

As thousands of new fans are happily discovering, pro football is a game of precise and powerful virtuosity —incredible catches, runners who break away from swarms of opponents just when they seem stopped, crunching tackles and jet-powered blocks. No experienced pro fan ever leaves a game in its last five minutes when his team is only two touchdowns behind—any club can, and may, explode in those five minutes and win. Pro football is a game in which every carefully selected, battle-tried man seems larger than life, not only in skill and speed, but in sheer brute strength.