Super Bowl Recall: A Giant Of A Dad

My dad would be turning 100 on Feb. 4.

The name of my all-time hero was Charles Dickens Fox.

Terrific timing. Three days later, on Feb. 7, 2012, the author he was named after celebrates his 200th birthday.

Charles Dickens and Charles Dickens Fox. So the former wrote "A Christmas Carol" among his library of brilliance. But on the pedestal of my life, Charles D. Fox stands tallest. He was a fearless World War II and Korean War Army officer. He shone as a husband and father. And so what if he didn't produce "Great Expectations"; Dad wielded the cleverest fountain pen I ever saw in action.

Typical missives (his word) included:

Alas alack, anon and enow felicity from Shakespearean English.

Inconsistencies of opinion, due to a change of circumstance, are often justifiable, a variation of Daniel Webster's line.

Sydney, please draw my bath, from his WWII trans-Atlantic crossing.

Then there were Dad's names for me:

Buster, from Buster Brown.

Lefty, from Lefty Grove, joined the vernacular after finishing in the running for greatest righty pitcher in the Stars & Stripes baseball centennial poll in 1969.

Boy, because I was one.

Right this minute I'm watching highlights of the January 1972 Super Bowl, the one in which Dallas won its first title by manhandling Miami. And man, does that rewind our joy watching it together.

In those black-and-white days living in Germany, Americans had to find an Air Force base to catch big games on TV. So we traipsed (another Dad word) an hour north from Heidelberg to Frankfurt's Rhein-Main Air Base to see Tom Landry finally win the big one.

How we could've cheered together now. ESPN. NFL Network. MLB Network. The NBA all over the tube and Internet. Email. Texting. FaceTime.

Charlie Fox and I would be having a ball discoursing, especially now in the thick of Super Bowl week. Forty years after that Cowboy-Dolphin clash comes Giants-Pats. Dad was a New Yorker. He relished recalling the 1958 Greatest Game Ever Played, the one Johnny Unitas pulled out for the Baltimore Colts at Yankee Stadium.

Eleven years after that, Dad and I huddled near the radio as the Jets' Joe Namath returned football's crown to New York by stunning Unitas and the Colts.

Gotta believe that now Charlie Fox would be pulling for the Giants. He and I would be tackling the Eli-Brady rivalry, the parallels with the 2007 season, whether New York's D could pressure Brady the way it did in the Giants' upset four years ago.

I visualize us pulling for New York and wondering how the oddsmakers could make New England a three-point favorite.

Wish he'd be watching with me Sunday. Wish he were alive and not at Arlington National Cemetery, where we buried him in 1989.

As it is, old Heidelberg buddies Derrick and Warren Jones will be here for kickoff. We'll roar for the Giants and laugh up our growing-up days.

You can bet that a couple of times one name will bounce around the Bowl: Charles Dickens Fox.


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com.

Jets Devour The Brady Brunch

Something about New York puts the old before England, the y after Pats.

The Giants had that thing. Erased the un from unbeaten Patriots in the 2008 Super Bowl.

The Jets have it right now. Mugged old England Sunday. And are on a flight pattern to Pittsburgh, then Dallas for the Feb. 6 Super Bowl.

I saw it coming. Got up Sunday with an awakening: The Jets are helmet and shoulder pads above Belichick's bunch.

Braylon Edwards. Santonio Holmes. Those are stratospheric receivers. Who catches for the Patsies? Crumpler, Gronkowski, Hernandez. Please.

We were brainwashed into idolizing old England because of three NFL titles in the first half of the 2000s. And Jet fans were led to fear the Belichicks after that 45-3 bombing 24 hours before Pearl Harbor Day.

Good for Rex Ryan that he told all to get a grip. He said the Jets had the talent to win in Foxsorrow. They had more: a superior roster. Mark Sanchez wasn't about to pass that up.

Pete Carroll didn't roll after all. I thought he would after Seattle's Saint slapping. Then came Chicago's wizard-ending blizzard. Carroll looked stone-cold out of his league.

As you recall, that's what the coach told Sanchez he would face if he left Southern Cal after his 2008 junior season. The QB simply took his cue and headed for millions. Now he's in a second straight AFC title match. And Carroll's in an off-season.

All it took was shedding those baby blues. As soon as LaDainian Tomlinson donned Jet green, he turned into a winner. No more sulking on Diego's bench during another playoff meltdown. Dude is rushing, catching and scoring like he knows what time it is: clutch.

Speaking of green. Amazing the Jets won with green pants Sunday. Always seemed like it took all whites to scrub the best into them. Like in Miami in January 1969. All whites all the way in the Super Bowl. Shocked the Baltimore Colts, thanks to a delta force D and Joe Namath. Now D and Sanchise spell title No. 2.

As for the Bowl. The Jets will have matching Supe colors in the form of Green Bay. Brother, did the Packers flex their stuff Saturday in Atlanta. Aaron Rodgers showed exactly why they were dying to see Brett Favre go in 2008. With Rodgers' receivers and that secondary, Bay is a beast.

The Brady hunch. You see teetering Tom and Jolly Rodgers, and the NFL horizon is clear. Your quarterback better move it or he's done.

Brady's stock sank vs. the Jet strafing. Much more of that, and he'll make way for the son of my old high school pal Axel Hoyer: Brian Hoyer.

I had Brady fifth on the all-time QB lists, but he's slipped to sixth behind John Elway. The guys on top are Johnny Unitas, Joe Montana, Bart Starr and Terry Bradshaw.

Then there's Ben Roethlisberger. He could pass Brady if the Steelers win a third title under him. Will Big Ben pull that off this season? No.

The call. My Steeler zealot buddy Derrick Jones says his beloved will win 31-17 Sunday. Gotta break it to Derrick and the rest of Steeler Support.

With Rex Ryan calling the shots and cheering with his boys in the end zone after a limp that Deion Sanders hilariously imitates on NFL Network, the Jets win 24-21.


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.

Dandy Decade

Line of the decade hit the office the other day:

Tiger Woods needs a new driver.

Other than that, you won’t see mention of him in this breakdown of the 2000s. This is about sports, not golf.

2000: The Lakers win the first of three straight NBA titles. On their way to Team of the Decade. Shaq provides the muscle, but in four years he’ll flee and rip L.A. The city’s hero is Kobe. He sticks it out during the drag days of mid-decade, scores 81 in a 2006 game against Toronto and wins a fourth championship in 2009. No question. Bryant is Player of the Decade.

2001: The 9/11 World Series. The massacre pushed the Diamondback-Yankee clash so far back, Derek Jeter turned into Mr. November. So much drama at Yankee Stadium: late homers, “God Bless America.” Then came the ninth inning, Game 7, Arizona’s stadium. The D-comebacks won it, thanks to Luis going Gonzo against the arm with the Mo, Rivera.

2002: The Angels win it all. And what a World Series. Seven gut games against San Francisco that rivaled the Fall Classic of the year before. Tim Salmon’s Game 2 heroics. Spiezio’s Scott Heard Round the World in Game 6. As AngelsWin.com relays: By now, most Angels fans can recite Rory Markas' call verbatim: "Here's the pitch to Lofton. Fly ball, center field. Erstad says he's got it. Erstaaaaaad MAKES THE CATCH! The Anaheim Angels are the champions of baseball!"

2003: Andre Agassi is forever Grand. This was his third Aussie Open trophy in four years. While so many players sobbed about the tropical oven Down Under, Agassi simply sizzled. This made his Slam haul eight, up there with tennis’ greats. Yes, Sampras and Fed were better. But they didn’t have that Andre aura. Maury Allen put it this way in a recent piece at TheColumnists.com: “When you are around athletes all your professional life, as some of us have been lucky enough to be, you can spot stardom. . . . Andre Agassi took over the breakfast room.” So Andre lied about his long hair. As a fellow baldy, I’ll give him a pass. And keep remembering how cool he was, from Frankfurt to Paris to London to New York to L.A. to Melbourne.

2004: The Red Sox vault from nearly dead to Yankee killers. Really the Comeback of the Decade. No baseball team had shed an 0-3 series deficit. And Boston had played mitt to New York’s pounding going back to the Joe D days. Not this time. Riding the crunch-time bat of David Ortiz, the Sox stuck it to the Yanks for the pennant and swept St. Louis for the world title. Their first in 86 years.

2005: City of the Decade? Boston, hands down. The Red Sox won two titles, the Celtics one. And the Patriots three. Their third came in the ’05 Super Bowl, a 24-21 thriller over Philly. Tom Brady lasered the football mostly to Deion Branch. In the end, the Eagles were sick of seeing them.

2006: Texas 41, Southern Cal 38. Vince Young with the winning touchdown in the January BCS title game to cap the 2005 season. The Longhorns national champions for the first time since 1969, the last time you’ll ever see an all-white gang pull that off. This was simply the Game of the Decade. I figured the Trojans would blow out the Horns. The California kids had more talent and the best coach, Pete Carroll. They also had a backyard field, the Rose Bowl. And a 12-point lead late. All Young did was win, just as the QB keeps doing with the Tennessee Titans.

2007: Mizzou No. 1. The snapshot was so rare, I bought two Sports Illustrateds freezing my Tigers’ spot atop college football. The Chase Daniel cover and Jeremy Maclin inside page adorn the Fox Den. I knew the moment wouldn’t last long. It didn’t. The next week, Oklahoma dealt us misery in the Big 12 title game. When will Missouri place first in the land again? Maybe 2017 or 2027. The wait is on.

2008: Phil Jackson. Now this is a giant. Not just because he stands 6-8. Also way up there is his championship number: 10. Six with the Chicago Bulls, four with the Lakers. He would get that fourth in L.A. by 2009, but his handling of this team in 2007-08 was exceptional. SI’s preseason edition predicted a Laker sinking. No one figured anything much better. Except me. Early in the campaign I wrote here something that almost came true, if only the Lakers had overcome Boston in the NBA Finals: Many fans dismiss him as lucky to have coached Jordan, Shaq and Kobe. The Jackson jeers get so loud, listen when he leads the Lakers to the NBA championship this season. Instead of lauding him for landing a record 10th trophy, some will grouse that of course he won; who wouldn’t with Kobe and Andrew Bynum? You see how silly this gets?

2009: Manny Pacquiao. If not for Kobe, the Filipino Fist would be 2000s’ Tops. So let’s make him the Foreign First. How stout was he in bouts? Won seven world titles in seven weight classes this decade. By the time he was fitting his last belt after belting Puerto Rico’s Miguel Cotto last month, he needed to let it out a few notches. Suddenly the skinny slug getting rice kicked in his face is flexing welterweight muscles. And aiming to nail Floyd Mayweather. But that’s next decade.

Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.