Old habits die hard. Sometimes not at all. It was night, the U-Haul trailer was bouncing behind my car and I could barely make out the neon skyline when the bile began to bubble. A bad sort of déjà vu. I pushed it down, forced the ill will back to…
The lights from the back of the room shine brightly as they bounce off his handsome face and expensive jewelry. Decked out in a pimp suit–that is a sharp ensemble, not a fedora and a fur coat and a cane, though that might be more interesting–he absorbs questions with style…
Gather ’round, children. Pull close now, and pay attention. Allow me to tell you a story from my youth, from a time when I was less cynical and the world didn’t seem such an evil, awful place. The year was 1993. The country bumped to gangsta rap while a president…
Today is an off-day. More or less. The morning practice was scrapped in favor of extra sleep and position meetings. The afternoon session? Changed from the daily grind of battling the heat and each other to more esoteric pursuits–special teams. It’s not that special teams aren’t important, because anyone who…
Midwestern State University’s practice field is lined with the usual media types who chuckle and babble about nothing in particular. It’s hot. Almost unbearably so. The heat index at Dallas Cowboys training camp is in triple digits again and will be for the rest of the summer–or until G.W.’s plan…
He opens his arms wide, accepts the ball, then skitters through the line of scrimmage past two would-be bodyguards into open field. Pausing for a second, he jumps right, then left, bouncing unpredictably, like one of those Super Balls you were so mesmerized by as a child. All eyes strain…
Barry Bonds, the San Francisco Giants’ outfielder/malcontent/ball basher, is here today. He leads the free world in home runs this season with 40. He’s been here for the past two days, taking aim at the short right-field porch at the Ballpark in Arlington. The wall is a mere 325 feet…
It took awhile to register–and not because of my holiday hangover. There, on the Dallas Mavericks site, the team announced the members of its television and radio broadcast team for the 2001-02 season. They weren’t trying to hide it. They even sent me the press release via e-mail. This is…
Before we go any further, there’s something you should know: There are circus chimps milling about with more real-world skills than me–probably more smarts, too. Most of college was spent stumbling from one hall to another in a drink-addled stupor, pretending to pay attention about some subject or another and…
The game is finished. His team won. Cameras swarm. Mark Cuban eats it up, grinning a grin somewhere between sinister and goofy, like he’s trying to decide whether to take over the world or Denny’s. Cuban and two Mavericks scouts–Morlon Wiley and Scott Lloyd, both of whom used to play…
Mike Carter Field sits off Front Street, just past the convention center and the rose garden. Across the way is the football field where Earl Campbell played during high school. Earl’s old haunt, much like Tyler, Texas, has seen better days, idling in a state of disrepair, a fading memory…
When he was younger, Keith Foster regarded it as “not very cool,” which, at least in my estimation, was a kind analysis. There’s something offensive about golf–mostly rich white men parading around beautiful but misappropriated land with the arrogance of conquering war heroes, for starters–something unpalatable that’s never endeared me…
He shuffles over, looking equal parts frustrated and defeated, but Frank Catalanotto is oblivious to his pain. At first. Cat sits hunched in a black leather chair for a second or two, shoulders rounded, before he notices a Rangers coach, Bobby Jones, thrusting a piece of folded paper in his…
It’s just another day. Another long day. Already, that’s the way it feels. Nearly everyone trudges through the motions–a battalion of zombies watching the clock tick painfully slowly. Hours before game time, reporters mill about. They poke around a locker room that feels more like a funeral parlor than a…
It could have been so different, so much easier or, at the least, smoother. Wouldn’t have been all these rats with pens and tape recorders and television cameras gnawing at him already. That would have come, sure. Just not this quickly. Not right out of the gate. Neophyte quarterback Quincy…
Gabe Kapler calls from Tulsa. His voice is friendly but a little garbled. It’s not the phone line, though. Sounds like he’s munching on something. “My leg feels great,” he says, chomping away, nourishing a body muscular enough to launch a fitness craze if he’d ever go Billy Blanks. “It…
The game is still fresh. Plastic beer cups and wax popcorn bags litter the floor while 18,000-or-so fans strut their way to the nearest Reunion exit, beaming. Some steal one last glance at the frozen scoreboard, nodding approvingly before shuffling off like herded cattle. It was a good night, one…
Come clean. You were freaked. It was scrawled across your face, plain as a girl from Tarrant County. Easier to read than simple cousin Merl from Argyle. Even if you don’t follow hockey, even if it isn’t your bag, you were at least a little concerned because, when the second…
He looks as confident as ever striding into the room, and for a moment you think he might peel back his suit jacket and patterned, blue necktie to reveal a hidden No. 8 jersey. Could be that it’s all some sick ruse, a poorly played joke for the media and…
The auditorium fills for the mandatory meeting just after 10 a.m., brimming with crew chiefs and drivers and hangers-on. There’s Jeff Gordon and Bobby Labonte, Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Tony Stewart and a few other guys you see on SportsCenter, all looking on with passive stares as a NASCAR official…
PORT CHARLOTTE, Florida–It felt different. Almost radically so. Same game, sure, but that’s where the similarities ended for him and surely where the exigency began. It was all so fresh, so new–from the superior competition to the expansive crowds to the breadth of the media coverage. It was a lot…
It’s not yet noon on a sleepy Saturday. The skies are ash-colored and dreary, and the wind has some chill in it. The kind of day that’s good for staying hugged up in your bed, sleeping away last night’s hangover and today’s cheerless reality. But this is one of the…
