When I first encountered Jim McMahon, I didn t especially
like him. I definitely felt the same way the second time, and
probably the third, too. I was, and still am, a sports columnist
for the Chicago Tribune. He was--and of course, is still very
much so--quarterback for the Chicago Bears.
The prospect of us collaborating on one interview--let alone
several interviews--for the purposes of producing the book
you now hold in your hands seemed remote. I am a member
of the media, and proud of it. McMahon is a member of the
sweat set, and proud of it. in case you haven t noticed, our
two professions have developed what politely might be de-
scribed as a growing adversarial relationship in recent years.
McMahon, not unlike many athletes, regards journalists
--print and electronic--with a certain degree of dismay, or
at least, distrust. What separates McMahon from many of
his contemporaries is that he is utterly unafraid of conveying
his feelings toward us. When he doesn t care to be on stage,
you might as well turn out the lights.
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