Why'd It Have To Be Snakes?

Gordon Wright, another lover of classic sports writing, suggested this fun piece of work by Jeff MacGregor. From Sports Illustrated back in 1998, dig "Snakes Alive!"

You can taste the mean.

Even when it's battered and seasoned and deep-fried, every rubbery, molar-binding cheekload of barbed rib bones and fast-twitch-muscle meat resists, bites back. This is one oily, ornery little tenderloin. It's an angry flavor, metallic and full of resentment—like having a tiny jailhouse machine shop in your mouth.

Everybody tells you it tastes just like chicken. Maybe, but only if the chicken in question had a neck tattoo, took hostages and died in a police shootout.

Rattlesnake. The mutha white meat.

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