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  The first time I heard John Lennon's song "Imagine," I scoffed, spit, and pronounced it "Ono Pap." Just a dream like one of those things we had for Martin and Bobby, both dead, just frankly, irreversibly dead. Dead, dead, dead. Who cares about impossible dreams? Someone will plant a bullet in them. Bulleted, slashed, sliced, dashed, nuked: this dream too will die. Jim Brown's dream is sort of like Lennon's dream: a bunch of crap on fleeting review. Lennon penned a song asking people to think about a world without countries. Jim Brown, the NFL Hall of Famer, and the greatest (there is ...

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