WEST CALDWELL, N.J. — The best football writer I have read in my 59 years on the planet sat in a wheelchair listening to the conversation going on around him Saturday afternoon in room 1423 at the Crane’s Mill assisted-living facility 40 minutes west of Manhattan. But 83-year-old Paul Zimmerman could not participate. There would have been a time, exactly eight years ago (and most of the 75 years before then), that Zim would have been the center of it all, challenging my naïve take on something, or railing against the greed of the NFL owners, or extolling the virtues of the Burgundy he had last night.
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