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Tag Archives: Sports

sam-bradford-8-of-the-st-louis-rams

On Saturday night, the St. Louis Rams lost their starting quarterback and implicit hero of the future, Sam Bradford, to a season-ending injury in a preseason game against, of all teams, the Cleveland Browns. Because of a 2012 trade involving draft picks which allowed Washington to select Robert Griffin III (himself no stranger to the infirmary), the Rams are essentially left without a Plan B outside of 34-year-old former Amsterdam Admiral Shaun Hill. For what it’s worth, St. Louis has expressed interest in acquiring Mark Sanchez from the Philadelphia Eagles, but you won’t see any positive letters of recommendation from this writer.

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Russell Wilson Looks Good

It had to happen.

I was not going to go the whole season without a losing week. To be honest, I eked out a 2-3 last week; I pick every game in a semi-legal picks-against-the-spread contest with some friends and went a dismal 5-11 overall. I was lucky to go 2-3.

But I will persevere. I have made it through worse than this. I sat through Transformers 3 in its entirety in theaters. I survived both the Bronx and North Philadelphia. Hell, I was dumped at an amusement park once. I have lived through pain; 2-3 won’t bring me down.

I am looking at this in the same way that I try to look at those previous struggles. I need to learn from my mistakes, bad sequels and cruel women. So what can I learn from last week’s 2-3?

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michael_vick_eagles610x

One week into the SuperContest, and I don’t hate myself yet. Oh man, it feels like it’s going to be a good year.

After starting out 3-2, I am currently hypothetically in the upper half of the table (!) and in good standing to move forward in my hypothetical gambling. You may think that it’s easy to pick five games a week and come out looking like a champion, but let me give you some perspective: This past week, only 3 people went 5-0 on their picks, 58 went 0-5. Read More

Egon Schiele - Agony

Egon Schiele – Agony

“You can’t win ’em all,” so the adage goes. While the application of this saying has extended to the subjects of romance, academic pursuit, flying standby at the airport and khaki sales at Kohl’s, it is safe to assume that the most practical sense in which someone can say this to a fellow human being occurs when engaging in sport. You hear it all the time, and no matter how diluted those words can become, they still retain truth, and the truth behind them is difficult to accept when you have spent the majority of an athletic season buffered by a sense of invincibility. Read More

I don’t think golfers are athletes. I don’t think it’s even an argument.

“Oh, but Matt, you try and do it, then you’ll think they’re athletes.” Well, I can’t develop software or bowl as well as professionals that do those things can, but that doesn’t make them athletes. The way I see it, I can’t garner a golfer’s athleticism from their playing golf. The sport of golf doesn’t prove golfers’ athleticism; therefore, they are not athletes. Watch basketball. You’ll see athleticism. Even watch soccer, same thing, etcetera, etcetera for many other sports. And so, for the remainder of this entry, I will be referring to these men as golfers or golfletes. Certainly not athletes.

Four to six times a year, golf is important. It is at the forefront of weekend television. This past weekend was one of those times. The British Open (I’m certainly not just going to call it “The Open,” as if it’s the only Open tournament in the world) was played over the last four days, and boy, was it a good one.  Read More

I played football for 12 years. From third grade all the way through high school, my autumns were filled with football. Practice during the week, games on the weekends. When I wasn’t playing it, I watched it. Saturdays and Sundays in the fall still are my favorite days in the year. I can’t get enough of football.

I couldn’t help but be that way. My father worked at the Meadowlands in sports public relations before I was born, and he had an avid Giants fandom that naturally was handed down to my brother and me. I learned two traits revolving around sports in the fall season: a love for football and a hate for soccer.

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soggy-soccer-field

It wasn’t quite a wet, windy Tuesday night in Stoke, but it was a hazy, overcast Sunday afternoon in New York that eventually, mercifully brought rain and tremendous heartbreak to Purple Reign’s second match. On the same day as another, slightly less important game of futbol, the commute to Riverside Park was far less stressful (mostly because I left my apartment with more than enough time), though I am still not convinced I have found the most efficient way of crossing from the Bronx to upper east side of Manhattan; this time, I traversed the entire island laterally, itself a full workout and showed up to the field drenched in sweat. Fortunately I had remembered to put on sunscreen prior to departing, not that it ended up mattering at all given the clouds. Walking up to the field, I ran into two teammates, and we discussed how perfect it would be if the skies opened, only slightly, allowing a few precious, cool drops of rain to fall.

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Now that the basketball season is a wrap, and with hockey soon to follow, only one of the four major North American seasonal sports, Major League Baseball, will be in session. While the great American pastime certainly carries with it a tradition which is engraved in the hearts of millions, the dog days of summer can get repetitive in the nationally-televised sports world, as diving catches and cannonball home runs take sole possession of center stage on ESPN. By the third instance of a 4-6-3 double play in the SportsCenter Top 10, viewers find themselves rolling their eyes with the reluctantly accepting frustration of Lester Freamon in the pawn shop unit.

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