Two generations ago I was only 10 years old, barely aware of the South beyond stories of my father’s arrest in Jacksonville, Florida when he went to the wrong side of town while he served in the Merchant Marine in the 1920s. Though I avidly read the New York Times sports page, I heard nothing of the “Jim Crow” segregation visited upon Jackie Robinson as he experienced his first big league spring training with the Brooklyn Dodgers that spring of 1947. When the Dodgers arrived in New York in April to play the traditional subway series against the Yankees, my father, previously unfocussed upon baseball, began the dinner conversation thusly: “Robinson knocked one in today.”

For us, nothing was quite like this advent of the first black American baseball player in the 20th century. Called up from Montreal on April 10, 1947 in the wake of Brooklyn Manager Leo Durocher’s year-long suspension, Robinson’s long anticipated promotion was obscured by the events of the previous day.

On Opening Day of the regular season, the talented and sagacious Johnny Sain of the Boston Braves handcuffed Robinson. He worried that it would be difficult to stick in the majors if all pitchers were comparable to Sain. Fortunately they weren’t. Ahead lay the racial vitriol of the Philadelphia Phillies manager Ben Chapman. The St. Louis Cardinals’ purportedly threatened not to play on the same field with Robinson – both Enos Slaughter and Joe Garagiola spiked him when they did play…

Stanford Law Professor Emeritus William B. Gould IV looks back with the perspective of time on what Jackie Robinson taught us and envisions what we will continue to learn from his legacy.

I always wanted to be a golf professional. When I was a student at Lafayette High School, in my hometown of Lexington, Kentucky, I had stock responses when I didn’t know the answer to a test question. I’d put “Ben Hogan” or “Sam Snead” on my paper. Some of the teachers got a kick out of that, I think.

I’m 74 now, and my knees keep me from walking courses. But I still enjoy playing. And I still recall the day when I became known not just as Gay Brewer, but “Gay Brewer, winner of the 1967 Masters.” The reality of the title – the biggest thrill I’ve had in golf – is something that can never be taken away.

Sometimes you only get one or two shots at winning a major. I was able to take advantage of one. I can still see every shot. What made the difference, though, was my mental game. I had read Norman Vincent Peale’s book The Power of Positive Thinking a week or so earlier, and I took the advice to heart. At the 1966 Masters, I had a three-putt bogey on the 18th hole to drop into a first-place tie with Jack Nicklaus and Tommy Jacobs. Jack won in an 18-hole playoff…

Gay Brewer tells HOFMAG.com’s Mark Maloney how he won the 1967 Masters

“Mr. Lawler, you don’t have any brains, you’re just some dumb hick from Memphis, Tennessee,” cackled Andy Kaufman, the controversial comedian turned inter-gender professional wrestling champion.

With those words, and many an insult just like them, the late Kaufman instigated one of professional wrestling history’s most storied and publicized feuds. In the process, Jerry “The King” Lawler grabbed mainstream notoriety and began his reign as one of the industry’s top stars throughout the 1980s.

Now, 25 years after Kaufman uttered those words, it’s evident just how preposterous they were. Still an iconic figure in his native Memphis, Lawler continues an illustrious career that has spanned almost 40 years. He’s shown the brains, brawn, talent and staying power to reign as a champion, incite masses to riotous reaction, cause capacity crowds to stand up and cheer and captivate audiences with his comedic commentary. Quite simply, in the cavalcade of characters that is the world of professional wrestling, Lawler has played out every role. A hero and a villain, a curtain jerker and a champion, a jester and, of course, a king…

HOFMAG.com’s Grant Gordon goes toe-to-toe with Jerry “The King” Lawler