No player more embodies both the truth and the inherent strangeness of the Three True Outcomes more than Baltimore's biggest-swinging galoot.

Colin Kaepernick is heroic and hated, viable and unemployed, and generally in a place few athletes ever have to inhabit. It's everyone's fault.

When he was at his best, Adrian Peterson made everything we know about football seem up for grabs. It couldn't last forever, but it will endure.

Tony Romo had a great and complicated NFL career. The story that sprung up around him was somehow even more interesting. It makes sense that he's chosen how it ends.

No matter the medication, I certainly didn’t tell my dentist to leave the TV locked on ESPN, nor did I say I was a fan. But there was the match, punctuated by odd guttural noises both within and without the room, and I gripped the chair while the Tooth Grinder™ revved and the racquets swung.

A team of Jewish American baseball players had a great run at the WBC. It was fun while it lasted, but not as simple as it sounds.

There has always been great sports-related art out there. There still is. It's just a question of knowing where to look.

Danny Garcia has been a fighter without a personality. His father and manager, Angel Garcia, has always done the talking. Where do they go from here?

The sports mascot ecosystem is a strange and unsettling place. The animals within it act in ways that are both familiar and wholly unexpected. Even if we put aside pressing questions about the suspension of traditional predator-prey relationships during games, and focus on their biographies, we still know so little about the interior lives of these creatures.

For years, critics like Noam Chomsky talked about sports as a pacifying opiate for what might have been a politically engaged public. Now they just feel like reality.