Kara Foley, wandered aimlessly up a dark and lonely street in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The structures were less house and more shed or more honestly shacks. This is a no man's land where few outsiders dare to venture.
Early evening had fallen and the few lights that burned behind closed shades had begun to glow warm and yellow. Barely audible voices whispered on the howling December winds. This was Detroit. The ghetto. Her beauty stripped away by years of corruption and abuse the great city now buckling under the weight of her own excesses, and like the heavily made up face of an aging Hollywood starlet she was nothing more than a shadow of her former self.
The year was 1976 and playing organized football on a team was all I ever thought about as a kid. From the moment I woke up in the morning, until the time I closed my eyes at night my thoughts were on the football.