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- VAN'S TOP 10 All-Men's ClubsWhen women's groups, the American Civil Liberties Union and the media came down hard on Southern Dunes Golf Club, a private, Fred Couples-designed...October 08, 2001
- THEY SAID IT?Jim Marchiony, Georgetown sports information director, on the extraordinary demand for press credentials to last Saturday's showdown between...Edited by Robert W. Creamer | December 20, 1982
- HERE'S A FIRST NOVEL, WHICH, DESPITE SOME...If you're one of those who complain that novels aren't being written the way they used to be, or applaud that fact, here's another for your...Jeremiah Tax | February 21, 1983
Steve Mullet glanced at his wife, in her simple clothing and veil. "Why not?" she whispered. After all, the service wasn't the bizarre ritual they had been led to believe it was, wasn't all that different from their own. Still, Steve hesitated. He glanced at Willie Mast. "Would Coach want us to?" Steve whispered. "You got 'er, bub," said Willie. So they rose and joined all the black Baptists and white Catholics pouring toward the altar, all the basketball players, all the Mennonites young and old. Busting laws left and right, busting straight into the kingdom of heaven.  
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