Pittsford – Once practice is over, Fred Jackson removes his shoulder pads and walks through the tunnel at St. John Fisher College to one booming roar.
“Fred-dee! Fred-dee! Fred-dee!”
Rolls of tape snake up his ankles like armor. His white cut-off is doused in sweat. His biceps are massive. His forehead, covered in beads of sweat. Surrounded by his children, in pink No. 22 jerseys, Jackson signs autographs for fans one by one.
Welcome to Fred’s Last Stand.
Again, he’s a rock star. Again, his job is in jeopardy. And this 34-year-old doesn’t only plan on playing this season.