Author Bio & Stories

Georges St-Pierre has to fight Carlos Condit on Saturday night, even though the fight itself doesn't quite matter. But in fighting his way back from injury, and fighting his way to the match-up against Anderson Silva that everyone wants, St-Pierre is running up against the stubborn fact at the core of his career. That's this: the more the world’s greatest welterweight wins, the more he pisses people off.

A close, but ultimately expected result with regards to both awards.

No surprises here. None. 

In São Paulo’s Museu do Futebol, is a small, coffin-like room, on one wall of which grainy footage of the final game of the 1950 World Cup is played while an amplified heartbeat pounds. If there is an American approximation of this place, it’s the Baseball Reliquary, which doesn’t physically exist as much more than a peripatetic series of displays in SoCal libraries and occasional gatherings of fans to celebrate everything that makes baseball worth celebrating: Communist agitators, showmen, Jim Bouton teaching the knuckleball to fans, bubblegum cards and above all what it feels like to pick up a ball and throw it.