Not sticking to sports since 2014
The best of last week’s boxing action, in five minutes or less. (Yeah, kinda like Jimmy John’s.) Manny Pacquiao (62-7-2) SD12 Keith Thurman (29-1): Expectations aren't what they once were for Pacquiao, 40, which is why his decision over Thurman on Saturday at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas to become the oldest fighter ever... Continue Reading →
Ask yourself: What if Dwight Howard were gay? Now let me throw another question at you: What if Howard were straight? OK, stay with me here, because this is where it gets tricky. Ask yourself this: In either case, does the answer demonstrably change your life? Affect it in any way? Even one iota? No.... Continue Reading →
The best of last week's boxing action, in five minutes or less. (Yeah, kinda like Jimmy John's.) Rey Vargas UD12 Tomoki Kameda: Vargas isn't a fun watch (more on that here), and Kameda – who was supposedly all-in to avenge an amateur loss to Vargas – didn't consistently do enough to force the issue in Saturday's... Continue Reading →
The best of last week's boxing action, in five minutes or less. (Yeah, kinda like Jimmy John's.) Guillermo Rigondeaux TKO8 Julio Ceja: What in the name of Harry Greb happened on Sunday to the little Cuban we love to hate? Rigondeaux, whose conventionally odious style once turned a seminal showdown with Nonito Donaire into a Kabuki... Continue Reading →
A uniquely contemporary myth exists in boxing: To be one of the greats, so it goes, a fighter must choose one extreme of the likability spectrum – or at least allow it to be chosen for them. To take up permanent residence in the public consciousness – to put asses in seats – a fighter must... Continue Reading →
The only thing I resent more than authority is a man's lush head of hair. Yet there I was, roughly 20 years ago now, calling after then-Boston Celtics head coach Rick Pitino – a pompadour in a power suit – in the sweltering visitors locker room at Chicago's United Center. This would have been the... Continue Reading →
I don't know how to help my son. He's 15. I'm teaching him how to drive. Not long ago, I showed him how to shave that tricky spot under his nose. I've taught him to mow the lawn, bait a hook and bang out a proper push-up. Years back, it was throwing a ball, tying... Continue Reading →
Twitter isn't a destination for logic seekers. It's a place where respectful exchanges of ideas go to crawl under a dumpster and bleed out. Follow the Twitter rabbit hole past the cat videos and #brandedcontent and duck-lipped, cleavage-girded selfies, and you arrive at a minefield inside an echo chamber that's assiduously monitored by your employer's HR... Continue Reading →
Today, hours before arguably the biggest and best prizefight boxing has seen in some years, a buddy offhandedly asked, as part of a never-ending bullshit session in a group text, for the lowdown on the matchup. It was a tongue-in-cheek question because, well, my friend is a jackass. Although I'm the resident boxing "expert" in... Continue Reading →
This won't take a minute. Because tomes have already been written and endless terabytes of audio and video exhausted in the Cannonball Run-style sprint to offer THE OPINION about Saturday's Floyd Mayweather-Conor McGregor Show of Shite, the less I pile onto the steaming heap the better. Still, there's this: It's not a fight. Tonight's main... Continue Reading →
Bury The Lead 