By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
But at some point Bullet ended and her bullshit began. At some point her dubious actions, though fueled by the best intentions, escalated into Rosie Ruiz. And, at some point, she did more harm to Hayes' legacy than good.
That point is the preposterous letter.
I'm not a CSI expert trained in handwriting analysis, but isn't it obvious? Consistently throughout a study of Hayes' signed memorabilia, his autograph includes a loop in the B's straight line in Bob and a contiguous H in Hayes. The letter, in stark contrast, includes a signature with a loop in the B's bottom bubble and a block H. Maybe Hayes signed Lucille's letter left-handed and blindfolded.
Or perhaps he didn't sign it—or read it—at all.
If so, wouldn't he have caught the "thanks" to someone named Roger Stauback? Wouldn't he have noticed the misspelling of his own high school—"Mathew" instead of "Matthew"? And what of the letter's font, a Calibri type not made available to the public by Microsoft until 2007—a fact exposed in a February 5 story in The Dallas Morning News.
Through her attorney, Hester maintains Hayes gave her the letter in Washington, D.C., in 1999. She said she doesn't remember who typed it or when, only that she and two witnesses watched him sign it before she put the letter in a desk drawer.
Last weekend at the Pro Bowl in Hawaii, the Hayes family found a temporary resolution if not a permanent closure. Face to face at the Hilton Hawaiian Village with Hayes' only son—Bob Hayes Jr.— Hester apparently backed down and agreed to step aside.
According to McIntosh, it will be Bob Jr.—and not Lucille—who on August 8 in Canton, Ohio, will unveil Hayes' Hall of Fame bust and accept his gold jacket.
"He'll be front and center, not her," McIntosh said last Saturday. "That's all the family has ever wanted. It's what Bob Hayes would've wanted."