It’s coming your way, it’s coming your way, it’s coming your way! Oh, but it lands just short, a few rows down and five or six seats across. The supporter who catches it does so perfectly and casts it pitchwards with a meaty, assured throw. Those around him pat his back and cheer.
For six months, the banality of being a not-playing soccer player on a lower-division club ate away at Manny. He could go out with his roommates to bars and say he was a Gales player, but no pictures of him in a Gales uniform appeared on TV or the newspaper. The local press simply didn’t care. Nobody was a fan.
I never expected to get my baseball fill from a board game until I picked up a copy of W. M. Akers’s Deadball: Baseball with Dice. Funded in under four hours on Kickstarter, the baseball simulation uses simple player statistics, dice, and traditional baseball scorekeeping to a surprisingly realistic effect. A few weeks ago, after playing a few rounds with the early, unfinished rulebook, I reached out to Akers to talk about the origins of the game.
Today we get the answers from Jessica Luther, the author of Unsportsmanlike Conduct: College Football and the Politics of Rape.
The question is: Must we oust dear old Dad in order to come into our own in a changing football landscape? Or do we respect the ultimate authority of the pater familias, who, after all, has carried us through decades of relative glory?
As the iridescent fog settled into Chavez Ravine during the 7th inning of the World Baseball Classic’s second semi-final, the tension in Dodger Stadium simmered low. The crowd was sparse, yet dedicated, having shown up during the height of the day’s rain shower and persevered throughout under umbrellas, rain jackets, and ponchos.
His new book, Party in the Back, collects over 300 photos Tino took while documenting his exploits finding, cleaning, and skateboarding the abandoned, or simply unfilled, pools of Southern California with his friends Rick and Buddy—all while inevitably waiting for the cops to show and break up the party.
With the team starting to win not only games but the respect and admiration of their peers, the beauty of Hinkie’s plan continues to unfold from beyond his (basketball) grave. Suddenly, with Ben Simmons’s debut still to come, we can root for the Process and root for success at the same time.
But Fin the Whale, a Vancouver Canuck and officially an orca, had better things to gnaw on, like the scalps of fans posing for personalized trading card photographs.
For 26 years, I played in the same Sunday afternoon, full-court basketball game with the same guys. Then my Medicare card arrived in the mail and I switched to doubles tennis. Occasionally, at the gym some 20-somethings will see me shooting and ask me to join them. I figure since I have to die one day, might as well be while trying to hit the open man.
On the tables closest to the stage, each club’s scarves are carefully laid out around bouquets of flowers and team signage, where management and representatives from the 10 organizations will conduct their draft. The players hoping to be drafted are not far behind them in the audience. With family, friends, and even some youth club coaches in attendance, the event is open to the public, and I can’t imagine anyone here, regardless of what brought us, has only a casual interest in The Beautiful Game.
All of these women’s names and all of their stories are stuck in dusty old books and magazines that no one ever looks at anymore because they’re in libraries. They’re not on the Internet. So, I decided to create an Instagram account specifically for these stories and get them pushed onto a popular culture media platform.
We chose some of our favorite, most Eephus-y stories of 2016. We hope you’ll enjoy any you’ve missed, and stick around for what’s to come in the new year.
The Quintero Golf Club, outside Peoria, Arizona, is challenging for the scratch golfer, the municipal hacker, and the novice alike, which is exactly the trio I arranged to play this highly-regarded public course.
—At the first tee, pay no attention to the entire course staring you down like a rabid donkey.
—Count the number of slopes in the fairway and keep your cart clean.
Hopkins indeed might be the most peculiarly American fighter of his era: corny in his creativity, self-assured in his own exceptionality, businesslike to the nth degree, ethnocentrically skeptical.
I was on the floor during Game 7 of the World Series mumbling to myself, tears running down my face pretty much from the 6th inning when David Ross hit that homer and onward until about three in the morning before finally passing out. As a lifelong Cubs fan, that was easily one of the most intense, insane, and ultimately wonderful experiences I’ve ever gone through.
One must have a mind of winter, to see a baseball in the snow.
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There are a bunch of ghosts, bowling on a frozen sea.
Guy Yedwab joins the podcast to discuss the 2016 MLS Cup final, tactically sound but boring soccer, and a little banter about the future expansion of MLS.
Looking for some sports books to pick up for your friends or family (or yourself) this holiday season? Here are some of our favorites, from 2016 and earlier, for the fan in your life. Happy reading.
My first real memory of the waterworks was watching the Rams lose to the Steelers in the Super Bowl. I can remember exactly where I was sitting and Vince Ferragamo’s interception sent me over the edge.
Feel how different it was from games in any other city, like Pittsburgh or Chicago. This was Los Angeles in 1953. Maybe Los Angeles wasn’t so special to merit Major League Baseball, but the Rams were still the best pro game in town—Hollywood’s team and worthy of a five-star premiere.
The mayor’s ten-speed bicycle, reported missing last spring, has been fished out of the river by a retired doctor.
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In a basement restroom of the basketball arena, an unidentified person smashed the mirrors and clogged the drains.
The podcast returns for ESPN’s Wednesday night NBA doubleheader, featuring the Cavs win over the Knicks, and the Warriors near-blowout of the Clippers in LA.
FPL used to feel like playing chess while needing to refer to the rulebook after each turn, but now it feels like sitting in a seedy Vegas sportsbook, watching the odds fluctuate for reasons beyond my imagining.