Chapter 1<br > HE PICKED ME UP at the airport in Louisville， Kentucky. I saw<br > him immediately， standing beyond the people waiting behind<br > the gate， big-framed， his bare arms crossed; we walked out to<br >the parking lot. There was barely enough room for my bag in<br >his car. The back seat of his burgundy-colored Volvo was<br >packed with effects; a child s Snoopy doll was lying on its back<br >on the rear window sill， its nose aloft， the property of one of his<br >two children， who were due in Green Bay with his wife， Caro-<br >lyn， a couple of weeks into the training season.<br > I had met Bill Curry three or four years before when I was<br >up to some participatory journalism with the Baltimore Colts.<br >He played center， first for the Green Bay Packers， then as All-<br >Pro with the Colts during his best seasons， but what I remem-<br >bered him for--besides his kindness in helping me through my<br >travail as a last-string quarterback--was the considerable study<br >he gave his own profession: he was one of the few players in the<br >cliquish training-camp community who made a point of moving<br >