Broncos Quotes

Women intrinsically understand human dynamics, and that makes them unstoppable. Unfortunately, the average man is less adroit at fostering such rivalries, which is why most men remain average; males are better at hating things that can't hate them back (e.g., lawnmowers, cats, the Denver Broncos, et cetera). They don't see the big picture.

How're the Broncos doing?" "Like a bunch of carrots." "Is that bad?" "Can carrots play baseball?" "I guess not." "Then you have your answer.

I nodded, disappointed, but then I got an idea. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?" His eyes lit up. "Me?" Pretty soon we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch. "Maia!" he shouted. He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos. "Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!" "Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.

Jesus,” Kiernan said as he stepped from the Bronco and a gust of frigid wind lifted his hair. “I think my testicles just climbed up into my abdominal cavity in fear.” Matt chuckled. “Lovely visual.” He cautiously joined him on the icy sidewalk. “They’ll come back out of hiding as soon as you warm up.” “So you say. The poor things aren’t used to this kind of weather. It’s traumatizing. I’m going to expect you to check later to make sure they’re still where they belong.” “I can certainly make an inspection of the general area. I’m a detective. It’s all about gathering evidence.

He turns to look both ways before crossing the street. He doesn't do it because it's what his mother taught him - I know he's looking for me, ensuring i'm not waiting with a souped-up Ford Bronco, prepared to mow him down

It was evening, the hour of speculation; Phil pondered how one man passes a gift on to another, how like the very chains and lengths of rawhide rope a man makes, human character is woven on a strand of this and a strand of that--sometimes beautifully and sometimes poorly. It was in simple homage to Joe and to Bronco Henry, those two braiders and plaiters, that Phil braided now. Each had taught him something.

What would the world look like if girls were taught they were volcanoes, whose eruptions were a thing of beauty, a power to behold and a force not to be trifled with? What if instead of breaking their wildness like a rancher tames a bronco, we taught girls the importance and power of being dangerous?

But it ain't the Broncos that'll kill you It's just that damned old cowboy pride. Michael Martin Murphy-"Cowboy Pride

They're good, but the Broncos are nothing to sneeze at. Heard of Peyton Manning?" "I liked him better in blue." "We all did.

Broncos hockey game in southern Alberta, a team that played in the same Major Junior A league as the Vancouver Giants

I stared out of the window, at my Bronco rusting in the parking lot, the metal eager to get back to just being dirt. Life was probably easier for it back then.

The world is a white Bronco and the highway never ends.

There had to be a last man standing. And it wasnt the cuate in the Bronco begging for water.

Those events, held in mid-December at another Kubla Khan luxe resort, are a Ford Bronco chase of trades and desperation, capitalism on a four-day crack toot.

Broncos Country, Lets ride.

Dove Valley. That’s where Broncos headquarters are. Boy, Denver is Broncos crazy, I tell ya. I’m not a Broncos fan myself. No offense. Everyone takes football so seriously around here.

On the other hand, one can turn bronco riding into drudgery. One can create mildly. One can live at a low flame. Most people do. We’re afraid to look foolish, or feel too extravagantly, or make a mistake, or risk unnecessary pain. One fears intensity. But, given something like death, what does it matter if one looks foolish now and then, or tried too hard, or cares too deeply? A shallow life creates a world as flat as a shadow. In that half-light, the sun never burns, risks recede, safety becomes habit, and individuals have little to teach one another.

I played professional football and own a bar, yet I’m scared of a little eye contact with a pretty girl. That should be my Tinder bio. Played for the Broncos. Owns a bar. Scared of eye contact.

En aquella ciudad, donde a menudo lo ilegal es convención social y forma de vida --es herencia de familia, dice un corrido famoso, trabajar contra la ley--, Teresa Mendoza fue durante algún tiempo una de esas jóvenes, hasta que cierta ranchera Bronco negra se detuvo a su lado, y Raimundo Dávila Parra bajó el cristal tintado de la ventanilla y se la quedo mirando desde el asiento del conductor. (p. 26 en LA REINA DEL SUR)

He turns to look both ways before crossing the street. He doesn’t do it because it’s what his mother taught him—I know he’s looking for me, ensuring I’m not waiting with a souped-up Ford Bronco, prepared to mow him down.

A model of probity, a steady hand to reassure the grieving, a sober man—a grave man—solid as the pillar of a tomb. A good dose of gangster to the hat to let you know the councilman played his politics old-school, with a shovel in the dark of the moon. Plus that touch of Tombstone, of Gothic western undertaker, like maybe sometimes when the moon was full and Flowers & Sons stood empty and dark but for the vigil lights, Chan Flowers might up and straddle a coffin, ride it like a bronco.

Who were the men in the Bronco?” “If I had to guess, FBI.” “Are they following you?” “Apparently.” “But you made it sound like they couldn’t arrest you.” “Which is exactly why they’re only following me.” “What do they want?” “Information. Names. Dates. Locations. The measurements of my dick.” “Nine and three quarters.” “Excuse me?” “Nine and three quarters.” “My dick is not ten inches long.” “No, I said nine and three quarters.” “Even I’m not that self-inflated.” “Have you ever measured it?” For fear of setting off Morgan’s bullshit o-meter, I had to fess up. “Just under eight and a half.” “When?” “What does that have to do with anything?” “Well, if you did it before the age of twenty, you probably gained an inch.” “My dick is not… okay, even if it was, when did you measure it?” “I had it in my ass. I think I would know.” “Is this where you tell me everyone has a built in ruler and all I need to do is bend over so you can show me how to use mine?” Morgan snorted. “No, but we can test that theory if you want.” If I said anything but hell yeah, it would have been a five-alarm bullshit fire. “My dick is not that big.” And as soon as I got the chance, I was whipping out the tape measure to prove it.

Os professores não o querem, a Casa Pia diz que está cheia, o PSD tem a lista de candidatos completa, o Belenenses resolveu o problema com um brasileiro, o brasileiro garante que ata as botas sozinho. Que farei com este Bronco? Pô-lo a cortar capim no Estádio da luz? O gajo cortava as bandeirolas de canto!

What looks good to you?” he asked as if we were out for ice cream. Rocky road or pistachio? Like my Corvette sitting back in the shop, he had a penchant for American-made classics, the ones Detroit had long-since forgotten it once knew how to make. Slowly, I walked around looking at each one—the acid green Shelby Mustang with white racing stripes, the powder blue Ford Fairlane, the black Chevy Bel-Air— each in pristine condition and only because his blood and sweat coursed through them as surely as gasoline. But if he was serious that I could take my pick and drive it out of here, there was only one choice for me: the cherry red 1955 Ford Bronco.

Ben thought that was how you could tell the difference between most people. It wasn't "I'm a dog person" and "I'm a cat person" or "I'm a Chiefs fan" and "I'm a Broncos guy". It was whether you cared about quarters. To him, four quarters was a dollar. A stack of quarters was lunch. The amount of quarters those little shits threw out the window that day could have bought him half a pair of jeans.

That's when it really hits you: health is number one. I think it can be hard for people who have not had to deal with disease or a life-threatening injury to realize just how important health can be. Once you've experienced something like that, it becomes an absolute priority. You can have many aspirations and goals, but if you don't take care of yourself first, you're unlikely to achieve them.

In modern warfare, people disappear. Not because they run off, or go native, or get taken prisoner. I don’t even mean that they’re gone because they’re dead. I mean they vanish. One second they’re right there, standing next to you, as bright and alive as they will always remain in the eyes of their parents, wives, children. Maybe they’re talking about how the Broncos just put some whup-ass on the Raiders or how they’re going to start a computer repair business when they get home or maybe just about how sweet that first post-dawn cigarette tastes and would you like one, too? And then they take a few steps and the bomb goes off, and when the pink mist is done soaking into the dust, all you’re left with is a single boot and the guy’s hand. Or maybe just his rucksack spewing his med pack and his lucky rabbit’s foot and his last clean pair of underwear across the field. And there you stand, scared all to shit and grieving like you’ve never grieved. But fuck if you aren’t happy, too. Because part of you is like, sweet Jesus, that could have been me. —Sydney Parnell. Personal journal. Cohen

As to the central fact in the case, it is my view that Simpson murdered his ex-wife and her friend on June 12. Any rational analysis of the events and evidence in question leads to that conclusion. This is true whether one considers evidence not presented to the jury—such as the results of Simpson’s polygraph examination and his flight with Al Cowlings on June 17—or just the evidence established in court. Notwithstanding the prosecution’s many errors, the evidence against Simpson at the trial was overwhelming. Simpson had a violent relationship with his ex-wife, and tensions between them were growing in the weeks leading up to the murders. Simpson had no alibi for the time of the murders, nor was his Bronco parked at his home during that time. Simpson had a cut on his left hand on the day after the murders, and DNA tests showed conclusively that it was Simpson’s blood to the left of the shoe prints leaving the scene. Nicole’s blood was found on a sock in his bedroom, and Goldman’s blood—as well as Simpson’s—was found in the Bronco. Hair consistent with Simpson’s was found on the killer’s cap and on Goldman’s shirt. The gloves that Nicole bought for Simpson in 1990 were almost certainly the ones used by her killer.

One of our best dates was actually a weekend when we went to the wedding of a friend from the Teams. The couple married in Wimberley, Texas, a small town maybe forty miles south of Austin and a few hours’ drive from where we lived. We were having such a pleasant day, we didn’t want it to end. “It doesn’t have to end,” suggested Chris as we headed for the car. “The kids are at my parents’ for the weekend. Where do you want to go?” We googled for hotels and found a place in San Antonio, a little farther south. Located around the corner from the Alamo, the hotel seemed tailor-made for Chris. There was history in every floorboard. He loved the authentic Texan and Old West touches, from the lobby to the rooms. He read every framed article on the walls and admired each artifact. We walked through halls where famous lawmen-and maybe an outlaw or two-had trod a hundred years before. In the evening, we relaxed with coffee out on the balcony of our room-something we’d never managed to do when we actually owned one. It was one of those perfect days you dream of, completely unplanned. I have a great picture of Chris sitting out there in his cowboy boots, feet propped up, a big smile on his face. It’s still one of my favorites. People ask about Chris’s love of the Old West. It was something he was born with, really. It had to be in his genes. He grew up watching old westerns with his family, and for a time became a bronco-bustin’ cowboy and ranch hand. More than that, I think the clear sense of right and wrong, of frontier justice and strong values, appealed to him.

Nevaeh- I believe I am never going to go around with little dreams anymore, I will not have a contained mind; I am always going to be positive if I can, and dream big. Knowing that it all can, and will be coming true if only I believe that it will. I know that I should never get stuck in a rut, for the reason that I do not know the whole plan that has been set for me. When you think like this, you can, and will break forth; this is when you will see an increase and praise. I hope that all our dreams come true, and we can all start anew. I hope that we can think, all our choices. Now I am hoping that I can let you know that, you have an angel too. I hope that everything is going to work out for you. The angels will save you and me, in times that we are on our knees. I hope the tower and its clans will forever let me be. I hope that everything will be understood so all of you can see. (About six months back) Nevaeh- The night that I was saved differently, I am only sixteen but the time is right. I could not stand living here another day or night, in ‘The Land of Many Steeples’ in the house of lost and lonely dreams, it was time for me to spread my wings and fly away from this land of misery. The day finally came and he saved me from the hell that is part of my existence. The boxy chariot with its small oblong taillights arrived near my doorstep. He greeted me with the presence of compassion. For I was looking down from the window, yes it was supposed to just be another date night. Yes, he arrived to sweep me off my feet once again and take me away. Hope was not very pleased with the onset of him being in my life… But there was nothing she could do. At last, I was content, and that is all that mattered. She would not let me go on my dates, so I waited around until it was night outside, and she was asleep! That is when I would sneak out, and get away for a while, with him. Yet I think I got pregnant on date number one, yet I am not sure. (Looking back) I remember all the dates; we would drive through the town at night, and do all kinds of wild things. Besides, look at the stars in the back of his ford bronco truck with a blanket at our spot, as the baby was asleep inside of me, this was about four months ago, or so. (The first days together as a couple.) Some of our dates started right after my school day, he would come and get me, and I would not come home until my curfew or not at all. We did not have much money, yet we always had fun just being together. Like this one time, we went kayaking in our swimsuits on the gently flowing river, and then afterward we had a picnic lunch, simple dates, but always fun. Yeah, that is right, we only had three normal dates before; I know I was indeed going to have a baby. Our craziness slowed down a lot after that fact, yet we still went out.

I updrive a Bronco." "How environmentally irresponsible of you.

Jane’s little cowgirl seemed made to order for riding Tenny’s bucking bronco.

NO, I CAN’T AND I WON’T

Right so, I like girls. And I’ve liked ‘em all my life. I was a marine. I’ve shot a gun. I own five of them, guns that is. I watch the Nuggets, Avs, Broncos and Rockies. I’ve never in my life worn a skirt. I wear a sports bra because with these babies,” she circled her bosoms with a pointed finger before dropping her hand to the checkout desk, “I got no choice. God saw fit to grant me an A cup, no way. Since I’m a C, I’m fucked. I have never worn mascara. I do not own a blow dryer. And I get off on goin’ down on chicks. Now which one, you or me, has more in common with Chace Keaton?

ST Engineering, the only South-East Asian firm in SIPRI’s top 100 defence manufacturers, has sold over 100 Bronco (or Warthog) armoured troop carriers to the British, for use in Afghanistan.

It’s my agent, Ryan Tollner. —Hello? —Hi, Nate. Have you heard anything from the Broncos? —No. —They’re releasing you today. No one called you? —No. —Wow. All right, we’re going to find you another team.

I'm naked under this dress. Naked as a jaybird," she said pointedly and looked at the matron. "Oh, my! She'll have to be broken!" Mrs. Phillips said and smiled. "Well, dear, we're the rodeo capital of Kansas. Bronco busting is our specialite." She pronounced the word in a foreign sounding way.

Ford Bronco ilikuwa sehemu ya upelelezi wa polisi wa Tume ya Dunia, na ilipigwa mnada baada ya upelelezi na kesi kumalizika. Kiasi kikubwa cha pesa iliyopatikana kilikwenda kwa WPD – Idara ya Polisi ya Tume ya Dunia – ili iendelee kuimarisha huduma ya kukomesha biashara haramu ya madawa ya kulevya duniani.

Wakati Ford Bronco inatoka katika Kiwanda cha Dongyang Pharmaceuticals S.A de C.V. (kilichomilikiwa na mkurugenzi mkuu wa 'methamphetamine' wa Kolonia Santita mfanyabiashara wa Kichina kutoka Chaling, katika jimbo la Hunan, kusini ya kati ya China, Li Dongyang; na mkurugenzi wa usalama wa Kolonia Santita kutoka Lomas de Chapultepec, Mexico City, Gortari Manuel) Daniel Yehuda na Radia Hosni, waliokuwa wakipiga picha kila kitu kilichokuwa kikiingia na kutoka kiwandani kwa ajili ya ripoti ya upelelezi wao ya baadaye, waliiona. Lakini, hawakujua kama ilikuwa ikienda Varsovia kumuua Murphy na Sajini Mogens. Bronco ilipofika Varsovia ilisimama kwa fujo mbele ya SUV ya msafara wa Mtoto wa Rais Debbie Patrocinio Abrego, aliyekuwa ndani ya Mgahawa wa Angus akicheza muziki wa 'mariachi' na John Murphy, huku Mogens akilinda usalama wa kamanda wake na usalama wa baa nzima. Kabla majambazi wa Kolonia Santita hawajaleta madhara au fujo yoyote kwa Vijana wa Tume, polisi walifika eneo lile haraka ilivyowezekana! Kwa msaada wa walinzi wa Debbie! Wale majambazi walipekuliwa na kukutwa na bastola moja ya Akdal Ghost, bunduki mbili za AK-47, na picha nne za Vijana wa Tume ndani ya gari yao. Polisi waliwakamata na kuwapeleka katika kituo cha polisi cha Tume ya Dunia kilichopo Zona Rosa, Mexico City.

fourth quarter. The Denver Broncos played the San Francisco 49ers at

Broncos played the San Francisco 49ers at Sports Authority Field

It is one of the eternal stories that are told about soccer: when Brazil gets knocked out of a World Cup, Brazilians jump off apartment blocks. It can happen even when Brazil wins. One writer at the World Cup in Sweden in 1958 claims to have seen a Brazilian fan kill himself out of “sheer joy” after his team’s victory in the final. Janet Lever tells that story in Soccer Madness, her eye-opening study of Brazilian soccer culture published way back in 1983, when nobody (and certainly not female American social scientists) wrote books about soccer. Lever continues: Of course, Brazilians are not the only fans to kill themselves for their teams. In the 1966 World Cup a West German fatally shot himself when his television set broke down during the final game between his country and England. Nor have Americans escaped some bizarre ends. An often cited case is the Denver man who wrote a suicide note—”I have been a Broncos fan since the Broncos were first organized and I can’t stand their fumbling anymore”—and then shot himself. Even worse was the suicide of Amelia Bolaños. In June 1969 she was an eighteen-year-old El Salvadorean watching the Honduras–El Salvador game at home on TV. When Honduras scored the winner in the last minute, wrote the great Polish reporter Ryszard Kapuscinski, Bolaños “got up and ran to the desk which contained her father’s pistol in a drawer. She then shot herself in the heart.” Her funeral was televised. El Salvador’s president and ministers, and the country’s soccer team walked behind the flag-draped coffin. Within a month, Bolaños’s death would help prompt the “Soccer War” between El Salvador and Honduras.

Other acts that were precursors of the Wild West were a July 4 commemoration in Deer Trail, Colorado, in which one Emil Gardenshire was crowned "Champion Bronco Buster of the Plains," and another Fourth of July celebration in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in 1872, featuring the riding of an unruly steer. And certainly Cody's buffalo hunt with Grand Duke Alexis was a harbinger of things to come, as were his hunting trips with General Sheridan, James Gordon Bennett and their friends, as well as the Earl of Dunraven. All that was needed, then, was to put the right elements together. Cody realized that he needed to earn a lot of money to launch a big show, and he was too proud to ask his wealthy friends for funds. Then, in the spring of 1882, he met Nate Salsbury, when they both were playing in New York. Salsbury, who later became Cody's partner, claimed to have thought of the idea of the Wild West when returning from a tour of Australia with the Salsbury Troubadours in 1876. On the boat he had discussed the merits of Australian jockeys in comparison with American cow-boys and Mexican vaqueros with J. B. Gaylord, an agent for the Cooper and Bailey Circus. As a result, said Salsbury, "I began to construct a show in my mind that would embody the whole subject of horsemanship and before I went to sleep I had mapped out a show that would be constituted of elements that had never before been employed in concerted effort in the history of the show business." In the end, of course, Buffalo Bill's Wild West went well beyond horsemanship to embody features of the West that had not been part of Salsbury's plan. Several years later Salsbury "decided that such an entertainment must have a well known figure head to attract attention and thus help to quickly solve the problem of advertising a new idea. After careful consideration of the plan and scope of the show I resolved to get W.F. Cody as my central figure." When the two men finally met,

As Cork drove away, he leaned out the window of his Bronco and called out to his children a father’s wish and a father’s blessing: “Be good.

them both around, two figures dancing in the shadows in a death waltz. He lashed out wildly and spun his body, picking up speed like a bronco trying to dislodge the man from his back.

Unit One, I read you. What's your location, Unit Two?" We only had two units, so numbering them was unnecessary, but it sounded more official. I'd given Janie the Mustang because she liked it and because the Bronco was a little contrary on cold mornings. I didn't want her standing out in the snow on a winter morning trying to figure out why it wouldn't start. Plus it made her feel important being Unit One. And yeah, it did make her look even cuter.

Orienting himself, Darren realized he and Archie had been thrown from the bed when it went over the top of the incline. They’d landed on the back side of the hill, about halfway up from the clearing. Below them, the Bronco, with its bar of bright lights, looked like an alien spaceship that had crashed. It had spun in a circle and was now facing up the hill, though pitched off-kilter at almost a forty-five-degree angle. Darren raised his hand to block the glare of the lights and started down the hill.

They plowed down the narrow path. The Bronco started up an incline. Darren was struggling to keep himself and Archie from sliding to the back of the bed, the muscles of his arms straining as he fought to hang on. Tree branches whipped against the bed. He ducked his head. The incline steepened, the engine straining.

Marriage is work.” She frowned. “Yeah, but what exactly does that mean?” Car doors closing had Jo glancing out the window in time to see Brody get out of his Bronco. He moved with steady, determined strides to Jim and shook his hand. “Sometimes I think it means staying and accepting the other person when all you want to do is run. Giving the storm time to pass, knowing smooth waters are ahead.

Sam turned off the Bronco with an air of ending the conversation, and I reached into my backpack to pull out a hat. As he locked the car, I stood on the sidewalk and waited. Sam came around the back of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. “Oh my God, what is that?” I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. “In my language, we call it a hat. It keeps my ears warm.” “Oh my God,” Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. “It’s horribly cute.” He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.

Birdie amuses every one with her funny ways. She always follows me closely, and to-day got quite into a house and pushed the parlor door open. She walks after me with her head laid on my shoulder, licking my face and teasing me for sugar, and sometimes, when any one else takes hold of her, she rears and kicks, and the vicious bronco soul comes into her eyes.

There are also millions of satisfied users worldwide, from youngsters to seniors, including: top athletes such as Shaquille O’Neal and Trace Armstrong; celebrities such as Madonna and Clint Eastwood; many health professionals, including chiropractors, physical therapy centers, and Dr. Norman Shealy (renowned pain specialist and holistic doctor); motivational experts such as Tony Robbins; and sports franchises such as the Denver Broncos and the Miami Dolphins.

While the exact ratio does depend on which machine you use and how you use it (whether you work out or just stand on the plate), forty years of research and the devotion of thousands of professional athletes and elite users, including Shaquille O’Neil, Jane Fonda, Madonna, the Denver Broncos, and the Tennessee Titans, attest to WBV’s effectiveness.

Teall feels that the words that lose the hyphen and become solid tend to be figurative (cowcatcher), while the ones that retain the hyphen are literal (bronco-buster). The same logic seems to be behind The New Yorker’s decision about “hard-boiled” and “hardboiled.

A 1977 Ford Bronco, perfectly restored in cherry red? Give me a break. That’s so specific.” I squint at him, only half joking. “Did I mention this to you in high school once or something? Is this some twisted gotcha?” “That would be a long con, considering I had no idea I’d ever see you again when I bought it.

I bet you have a car club called Boners for Broncos, you big nerd,” I say.

Plays for the Broncos . Owns a bar . Scared of eye contact .

Played for the Broncos. Owns a bar. Scared of eye contact.

Más de tres casualidades convertían una situación en destino.

That should be my Tinder bio. Played for the Broncos. Owns a bar. Scared of eye contact.

Breaking News,” which came of age chasing white Broncos and watching Twin Towers fall, reached its apotheosis.

The moment you announce that bedtime is drawing near, your kids will collectively lose their minds. Successfully getting four little sets of teeth brushed, bodies bathed, pajamas on, and rpm down is about as manageable as simultaneously riding four bucking broncos. Anyone who tells you different is a liar. Progress you make on one front is immediately challenged by at least one child revolting and undoing all your work. At some point someone will inevitably be running down the hall with underwear on her head, wearing a pair of her mom’s high heels. Who just wrote on the wall with that marker, and where did you get that cookie?

Still he’d only missed his Bronco by a few hundred feet.

The caterpillars are coming. They’re coming. As they passed a blunt rolled with marijuana shake around the bonfire, filled plastic cups with beer from a keg in the back of John Anderson’s Bronco, snuck cigarettes at the red doors that led to the make-out woods behind school. As they waited on line at the cafeteria for pizza and Tater Tots, warmed up during choral practice, and changed for gym in the locker room. Until Maddie felt something titanic rushing toward the island, gathering steam like a nor’easter barreling toward shore, and the waiting filled with a tingling urgency she knew they all felt. She felt it. Car engines revved harder, highs soared higher, buzzes and crushes burned brighter. “Look.” She lifted her palm as the insect inched across. The two lines of blue and red dots on its back glimmered like spots of blood rising after a pinprick. “They’re here.

He’d lost a bet with his head cook Rico about last week’s Broncos game, and he’d had to shave it off. Bastard.

I’d be the cowboy, and she’d be the bronco. I turned my eyes to hers, unashamed by what I said. “It’ll be

Vê-se à vista desarmada, caro senhor, que o aluno Angel é um antropóide mais póide que outra coisa. Solte-o se faz favor nas florestas africanas. Sem bússola, porque ele é capaz de a comer.

Trailing 24–23 in the fourth quarter, and backed up on their own 1-yard line, the Patriots were forced to punt—only they didn’t! Instead of punting, Belichick instructed long snapper Lonie Paxton to snap the ball out of the end zone. That would give the Broncos two points for the safety and a three-point lead, but the Patriots would be able to punt the ball from their 20-yard line instead of the back of their end zone.

You aren’t going to have to identify my body,” I told him. “I hope not. Your timing, it’ll be during a Broncos game. That’d piss me off.” I smiled at him. “Okay, I’ll try not to get killed during a Broncos game.

Florida’s the perfect camouflage,” said Serge. “Up in Middle America, even one of our low-profile whack jobs would stick out like Pamela Anderson bronco-riding a UFO.

ropa bonita a su hija. Pero María no se daba por satisfecha. Creía que merecía algo mucho mejor. Cuando María ya era mujercita, no quería tener nada que ver con los jóvenes de su pueblo. No eran bastante buenos para ella. Muchas veces cuando se paseaba con su abuelita por las afueras del pueblo, decía: —Abuelita, cuando yo me case, voy a casarme con el hombre más guapo del mundo. La abuela movía la cabeza. Pero María miraba a través de la ladera y decía: —Va a tener el pelo tan negro y reluciente como el cuervo que veo posado en aquel piñón. Y cuando se mueva, va a mostrar la fuerza y la gracia del caballo que mi abuelito tiene en su corral. —María —decía la anciana suspirando—, ¿por qué piensas siempre en cómo se ve un hombre? Si vas a casarte con un hombre hay que asegurarte de que sea un buen hombre, de que tenga buen corazón. No te fijes tanto en lo guapo que es. Pero María se decía: —Estas viejitas. Tienen las ideas tan anticuadas. No entienden nada. Un día llegó al pueblo un hombre que parecía ser el mero hombre de quien María hablaba. Se llamaba Gregorio. Era un vaquero del llano al este de la sierra. Sabía montar cualquier bestia. Si tenía un caballo que se amansaba mucho, lo regalaba y se iba para capturar un caballo salvaje. Pensaba que no era varonil montar un caballo que no fuera medio bronco. Era tan guapo que todas las muchachas andaban enamorándose de él. Tocaba la guitarra y cantaba con buena voz. María decidió que ése era el hombre con quien se iba a casar. Pero disimulaba sus sentimientos. Si se encontraban en la calle y Gregorio la saludaba, María volteaba la cara. Si venía a su casa para tocar su guitarra y cantar, ella ni siquiera se asomaba a la ventana. Al poco tiempo Gregorio también se decidió. Se dijo: —Esa orgullosa de María. Es con ella que me voy a casar. Yo puedo conquistar su corazón. Todo resultó tal y como María lo había planeado. Los padres de María no querían que se casara con Gregorio. Le dijeron: —Él no puede ser buen marido. Está acostumbrado a la vida bárbara del llano. No te cases con él. Por supuesto María no les hizo caso a sus padres. Se casó con Gregorio. Por algún tiempo todo andaba bien. Tuvieron dos hijos. Pero después de varios años, Gregorio volvió a su antigua manera de ser. Se mantenía fuera de casa por meses a la vez. Cuando regresaba a casa le decía a María: —Yo no vine a verte a ti. Quiero pasar un rato con mis hijos nomás. Jugaba con los hijos por un tiempo, y luego se iba para pasar toda la noche jugando a las cartas con sus amigos y tomando vino. Y empezó a decir

Debbie walked toward the door and gave me a seductive wink. She twisted the lock on the door, and then walked over and said, “Tickle my tummy, bronco buster.

Antes del Super Bowl de 1987, en que se enfrentaron los Gigantes de Nueva York contra Denver, alguien preguntó a Dan Reeves, coach de los Broncos, si rezaría pidiendo ayuda a Dios para ganar el juego. Él respondió: –«No creo que el Señor tome partido en estas cosas. Y espero que no lo haga: los de Nueva York tienen más gente para rezar que nosotros.» A veces, en efecto, tomamos a Dios como una especie de amuleto de la buena suerte. Le pedimos que nos ayude aun sabiendo que para ayudarnos tendría que dañar a otros.