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The genesis of this resilience began in the humid air of Shreveport, Louisiana. Long before he was a household name, Bradshaw was merely a boy who slept with a football as if it were a talisman against the world. He was a small-town phenom with an arm like a cannon and a heart that hadn’t yet been calloused by the cold cynicism of professional sports. When he was selected as the first overall pick in the 1970 NFL Draft, it was supposed to be the fulfillment of a Southern dream. Instead, it became a baptism by fire. The transition from the slow, rhythmic life of the South to the industrial, unforgiving grit of Pittsburgh was a cultural collision that nearly shattered him.
