Articles

Neil Gaiman once wrote that writers are liars. I respectfully disagree. Writers, like most people, are salesmen. Michael Jordan certainly is. He sold the idea that winning could bring happiness, that work was art and mattered more than life itself. The problem is he bought his own sales pitch. We all did.

David Roth

 et al.

Jay Buhner's kid is named Gunnar, and he is about to be a professional baseball player. Bud Selig is a renegade lawman. Chuck Knoblauch's nephew wants to play flip-cup. Terry Collins is possessed by a demon that loves bunts. Nothing will ever be the same.

"I saw the following things at TNA Slammiversary: American flag Zubaz, a Juggalo in Crocs, a replica WCW Television Title belt, a DX tattoo on the back of a man’s neck, a couple of 45-plus-year-old 'goth kids, and a group of certified ring rats being led to the back by a burly security guard. The effect of all this: the biggest boost of self-esteem I’ve had in months."

Grant Hill was a great player who could've had a greater career if some things had gone differently. Instead, over the course of a long career defined first by ease and then by struggle, he embodied a different type of greatness.

Roy Hibbert said a very wrong, dumb thing when he popped off with a "no homo" during a press conference after Indiana's Game Six win. Wrong as that was to say, he also said it in the wrong place.

At any given moment, and sometimes for games on end, the Pittsburgh Penguins can be the best and most exciting team in the NHL. This doesn't sound like a problem, but it can feel like one.

The Scripps National Spelling Bee isn't quite a sport, but it is its own unique and virtuosic thing. So why does it so reliably drag the worst bullying instincts out of the internet?

Mike Baxter is not, at least relative to his big league peers, all that great a baseball player. So why does he make Mets fans feel so good?

Because it feels like home, and because it is enveloping, being a devoted fan of Major League Baseball can be an intensely comforting thing, especially when confronted with the unfamiliar. But, at some point, we all have to leave home.

Towson University's decision to cut some lower-profile sports was handled with a nasty and drearily familiar high-handedness. But there are a number of assumptions and value judgments underlying this decision that have significance far beyond Towson. Can unprofitable sports survive in a college sports scene that's increasingly about profits?