I didn’t know Jim Fassel had died while I was walking downtown earlier today with a friend. We were heading to the subway.
On one corner, a shabby looking man was gesticulating. He was wearing an old Jets team shirt bearing the number 19. Immediately, without any thought, I said to myself, “Keyshawn Johnson.”
As we walked down the subway steps, I told my friend how peculiar this memory was — since I was a Giants fan and Keyshawn Johnson hadn’t played football for decades. Yet I saw that old shirt and that old number and I knew.