I’d been itching to write something on spring’s first (and last) football league for years. It represents a wonderful chunk of my boyhood—rooting for the Generals, staring at the cool uniforms and funky helmets, pulling for it to survive, damning Donald Trump when it didn’t.
Man, I love the USFL.
Some background on the piece: I actually pitched a USFL story for years at Sports Illustrated, but with no luck. The Wall Street Journal has been having me write pretty regularly, but the stories need to focus on the New York area. When I said, “How about the 30th anniversary of the 1983 Generals, and the arrival of the league’s lord and savior, Herschel Walker?” they were all over it. I am thankful for this.
Calling the old players was a blast. It’s a distant memory for the men, but a glorious one.
As it is for me.