Rick Ankiel succumbed to Rick Ankiel's Disease, then conquered it to become a productive Major Leaguer and retire on something like his own terms. There have been many better players in his generation, but few whose virtuosity came with more struggle attached.
Some notes from Sochi, including but not limited to happy-drunk Estonians, the Utah Jazz hats of Sochi, a surprise visit by Xzibit, and where snow comes from in 60-degree weather.
More updates from Sochi, regarding Canadian media, the heated underground economy in Olympic pins, the persistence of 4 Non-Blondes, and a slogan so spectacularly vacuous that it comes all the way back around to profundity.
At its highest level, basketball is a game played by some of the most graceful and determined athletes in the world. It is also played at other levels, and this New Hampshire men's basketball league is one of those.
The new issue of The Classical Magazine features some new contributors, some recognizable names, and a collection of art and essays that are mostly about books, but always about sporps. Don't stop. Get it, get it.
Philip Seymour Hoffman was all wrong as Art Howe, but was perfect anyway. For all his dazzling talent, it was Hoffman's willingness to doing more -- to do the most -- that made him great. It might have unmade him, too.
In celebration of a couple of momentous milestones, here is what may well prove to be our last spam poem ever. It is, perhaps more fittingly than we know, about the Super Bowl.
On the prolific and rather shockingly fascinating YouTube output of the NFC Champions, from Doug Baldwin's Beyonce-ish self-documenting perfectionism to Michael Robinson's ongoing indie version of HBO's "Hard Knocks."
