Because of the coronavirus pandemic, athletes can’t exercise like they normally do, so they’re limited to using whatever’s in their living quarters. Some of these jocks have shared their supposedly grueling home workouts, and I’m here to bravely proclaim that they’re not that impressive. Which ones? All of them.
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Graphic: Dennis Clark. View full-size bracket here.
Fifty years ago next month, word started leaking that Look magazine would publish two excerpts from Jim Bouton’s diary about the 1969 season, Ball Four. The leaker was the sportswriter who edited the book, Leonard Shecter. In the early ’60s, Bouton was a young, smart, offbeat pitcher with the New York Yankees who stood out in a locker room of jaded, old-school, future Hall of Famers like Whitey Ford, Yogi Berra, and Mickey Mantle. Shecter was the beat guy for the New York Post and one of a group of young sportswriters—Robert Lipsyte, George Vecsey, Phil Pepe, Larry Merchant, and others—who cared less about godding up the old stars than writing interesting stories.
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I miss the sounds of sports: the crack of the bat, the loud check into the boards, the roar after a late game-winning goal. I even almost miss the sound of an unthinkable four-bounce shot.
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There are so many things I miss so much about baseball. I miss the deep breath the crowd takes in when the shortstop throws the ball a little too softly to second on a double play. I miss the way a pitcher throws over to first so obviously that the runner is diving before he even lets go of the ball. I miss the snap of the catcher’s glove echoing through a packed stadium as the team closes in on a win. What I do not fucking miss at all is watching my favorite players absolutely deteriorate when asked to bunt.
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Image via Wikimedia Commons
The thing about this job, I used to say, is that it’s 95 percent pain tolerance and five percent skillset. That was back in the late 2000s when my job was working the late-night breaking news shift in the Miami Herald‘s Broward County bureau. The office and the job no longer exist, but there’s no point in pretending that a reporter saying that a journalism job no longer exists is noteworthy.
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Art by Chris Thompson
Tom Brady, who is a fancy dog, has been his usual rambunctious self ever since making his big move to Tampa, Fla. After getting up to a little mischief in a local park, he decided to drop in on one of his new neighbors.
Read moreTo celebrate the release of Point B yesterday, I did a live reading from the book on YewChube. I’m not lying when I say it was one of the best nights I’ve ever had, in quarantine or out. To cap it off, I discovered once the livestream ended that the paperback edition of Point B had finally gone on sale over at Amazon. I also realized that the entire front cover of that edition was off center. I will fix this, but if you get a copy with a gimpy front cover, my mom says it’ll become a collector’s item. YOU’LL BE RICH.
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NOTY Fantasy draft board via @PhuHoang2099
According to a survey conducted by the Educational Theatre Association, the most-performed musical production in schools across the United States is The Addams Family. Perhaps you can picture them now: a cocksure senior in Gomez’s striped suit, a white-faced Morticia at his side. Or, if your high school’s theater director is a bit of an oddball, maybe something like Law and Order: Fairy Tale Unit, which also cracked the EdTA ranking.
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What an actual six-year-old's drawing of the new Pescara kit might look like, by Billy Haisley
Earlier this week, Italian soccer club Pescara unveiled their new kit for the 2020–21 season that may or may not happen. The kit was the winning entry of a contest that asked young supporters to dream up their ideal Pescara jersey. The colorful shirt made waves because its artist, Luigi, is 6 years old. The jersey’s legitimate coolness is able to overshadow the immediately obvious fact that no 6-year-old could possibly put together something this good.
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