Road Swing: One Fan's Journey into the Soul of American Sports
For Rebecca
I am grateful to Terry McDonell, who introduced me to Morgan Entrekin, who was forced by Esther Newberg to pay for this collection, which was edited by Daniel Maurer. This book could have been written without them, but it wouldn't have been published.
Many other hands touched these stories in the spanking machine of the Sports Illustrated editorial chain, including those of David Bauer, Peter Carry, Rob Fleder, Dick Friedman, Chris Hunt, Rich O'Brien, and Sandy Rosenbush. I cannot thank by name the countless fact-checkers who vetted these pieces for accuracy, but suffice to say this: Any errors are theirs.
Mark Mulvoy, John Papenek, and Bill Colson allowed me to travel the world and write about whatever I found. Before I met Rebecca Lobo, two other wolves made a difference in my life: Alex Wolff (who introduced me to SI) and Jane Wulf (who hired me at the magazine).
I've been blessed with many intrepid travelling companions: Bill Frakes rode every roller coaster, Al Tielmans did all the driving in France, Mark Beech blew an O-ring on the road to Saratoga. But two friends, both English photographers, have logged the most mileage with me. Bob Martin is fond of sarcastically asking, as he lugs a quarter-ton of camera gear off a luggage carousel, "Have you got your pencil, Stevie?" And Simon Bruty suggested, over pints at a New York pub called Fiona's, that we go golfing in Greenland. He later insisted, over pints ar a bar called the Emerald Inn, that we visit the great darts pubs of London. In both cases, our bar tabs were expensed as a "Story Conference."
My mother, Jane Rushin, encouraged me to write, and I've repaid her repeatedly by lampooning, in print, her husband and offspring. Over the years, my parents and siblings—Jim, Tom, Amy, and John—have given me something far more valuable than love and support: They've given me material. And for that I thank them.
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