Today is the birthday of the late George Plimpton. He was born on this date in 1927 in New York City.
I owe Plimpton a debt for showing me that I would not be able to make my living as a professional football player. I read his book, “Paper Lion“, shortly after reading a different book about my hero of the time, New York Jets Quarterback Joe Namath.
The book about Namath had me thinking I could be a star quarterback too! After all, he started as a nobody and I was a nobody. Namath went to training camp with the Jets in Peekskill, New York, and I lived near Peekskill, New York! Namath was a famed playboy, and my friends and I had found a rain-soaked copy of Playboy in the woods near my house. I once saw him crossing the street surrounded by a crowd of autograph seekers, and if he had looked in my direction, he would have seen me sitting in the back seat of my mother’s car!
So you can see how we were virtually the same guy.
When the family moved to Central Illinois I was certain I could use my special East Coast Joe Namath Mojo to wow the locals. But at about the same time, I picked up Paper Lion. I soon realized that not only was I too small to make it on the professional field of play, but I lacked the strength and confidence necessary to survive the locker room.
Besides, Plimpton made it seem as cool to be a writer as it was to be quarterback of the Detroit Lions. He was a pioneer in “participatory journalism,” taking up a number of sports as an “everyman athlete.” I didn’t read his other books so I can only assume that in each case, the job of writer wound up seeming more glamorous than whatever sport he was trying out. Although if anyone tried to follow his lead, they probably discovered the most glamorous job of all was simply being Plimpton.
There is a documentary film about his remarkable life which is making the rounds. I would very much like to see it.
What job would you like to try for a day?
Trail Baboon 