Last night, like every NBA night, morphed into a sweaty, LeBron James symposium. And the firewall between factions is rather defined. He’s either a chump who cheated his team out of a win, or he’s a victim of fate or faulty wiring, a hardwood martyr who can’t get a break.
If Donald Sterling will indeed be swept under the rug of memory, his Jim Crow ideology and Bull Connor comments along with him, then … what have we learned from Donald Sterling?
A conga line of football icons is suing the NFL for negligence, malfeasance, malpractice, and just about everything short of global warming.
Michael Sam’s magic moment has left America divided, making the masses uncomfortable for many reasons, though much of it has nothing to do with Michael Sam.
All eyes and iPhones were on Johnny Manziel, who squirmed in his seat for 21 picks before landing in the wasteland we call Cleveland. He forced a smile and his signature salutation, rubbing his thumb and forefinger, a metaphor for counting his cash.
Financial experts estimated Johnny Manziel made more than $30 million for Texas A&M. Maybe Winston does the same for FSU and their acolytes. So you can see the logic, even if it’s shameful, when the police stutter when mentioning Winston’s name in any criminal context.
Word on the street is that the big cheeses at the NCAA and NBA have agreed on a new age requirement for playing pro ball. NBA commissioner Adam Silver, who really doesn’t need the NCAA’s approval, is increasingly vocal on the matter.
Manny Pacquiao, one of the few boxers to still move the needle, fights Timothy Bradley this weekend for the WBO welterweight title.
Calipari embraces the sordid system, uses it, and dominates. He doesn’t pretend he’s taking kids for the leafy campus life, for the diploma that will never arrive, or even for a few classes. He wants talent. And talent he gets. And talented he is.
We’re being told this is a classic tournament, with juggernauts about to collide like meteors over Texas, and a classic Final Four in store for us. Depends on your view of classic. Does an Arizona – Florida Finals sound unprecedented? Is that must-see TV?
March Madness is a lifeline in an otherwise barren winter sports calendar, an essential bridge between football and baseball
The player, college, and NBA have suffered greatly in quality of play and players. And for every Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnett there has been a conga line of lost causes, teens who toiled in Europe or Asia or worse once their hoop dreams melted into memory.
The NFL is considering a heavy tax on it, citing the fact that the gridiron is a workplace, and thus they can control the language and lexicon of its players. It’s probably the most delicate and toxic topic we’ll ever discuss in sports.
Even by the pro athlete’s subterranean standards, the Ray Rice video was shocking. He made no effort to heal or cradle or care for his unconscious fiancee.
Forever high on hubris, the sport is pondering extra games, playoff teams, and new franchises, perhaps in London or Los Angeles. And it feels like all are in the name of profit, not principle.
What will matter most? The fact that Seattle has no players with Super Bowl experience, or their youth and speed and top-ranked defense? Or will the game be won by Denver’s suddenly stout rush defense and Peyton Manning’s blessed right arm?
Everything is larger in New York, and Super Bowl Boulevard is no exception. It has the obscene, fun-house distortion you expect when a party is thrown in Times Square.
It’s not as toxic a topic as the New York/New Jersey border war, or as socially inflamed as the Richard Sherman saga. But, in a strictly sporting sense, it really is the topic du jour. If he wins Sunday’s Super Bowl, is Peyton Manning the greatest quarterback in NFL history?
In the days since his rant, Sherman has moonwalked from his outburst. Well, kinda. He didn’t apologize for humiliating Michael Crabtree, but insisted he was sorry for deflecting from his team.
No matter who has the edge Sunday, it seems the nation is rooting for Manning, because it’s been harder for him to win, because he’s not so pretty, because he’s considered one of us, because you get the sense that his aw-shucks, southern refrain is real.
My hands may be white from all the chalk I pick, you know there will be one supreme surprise this week. But where? Since we went 3-1 last week – losing with the wretched Bengals, like everyone else – let’s try our hand at the most heavenly weekend of a most horrible winter.
Every game this weekend has fascinating plots, from Cincinnati trying to break their playoff futility to the Frozen Tundra earning its sobriquet with a 30-below wind chill expected Sunday.
Despite their dearth of recent success, all eyes will be on the Cowboys. For the karma and the drama, for better or worse, they are America’s team. Mostly for worse. Just watch on Sunday.
Local cable providers love to remind us that we have nine – yes, nine – professional sports clubs, a way of persuading us to click on this package or that so we can view the screen-in-screen horror we call baseball, football, and basketball.
But no matter how black or gold my allegiance, no matter how nostalgic I feel about them. and no matter how deep the Rooney roots run in NFL history, there’s no excuse for their head coach’s conduct on Thanksgiving.