A Godking Could Bleed: The Night Allen Iverson Humbled Michael Jordan (for a few seconds)

A Godking Could Bleed: The Night Allen Iverson Humbled Michael Jordan (for a few seconds)

Mythology in America is a funny concept. Sure, there have been people here for millennia and they all passed down stories and legends, but in relation to Middle-East and Mediterranean lore, our bowl sits nearly bare. Sports fill that void as the gladiators of modern times give life to moments that transcend just a game. The moment in question signaled a sea change in NBA history. On March 12, 1997, the Chicago Bulls were on their way to their second straight title, fresh off the undisputed greatest season in basketball history. They were at the height of their powers. But their superstar, the face of the sport, was aging. Before there was “The Last Dance,” there was a question as to when the great Michael Jordan would finally show cracks in the armor. Philadelphia had The Answer.

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Buh-Bye XFL – A chat

Ciao. Ta ta. Sayonara. Is it sad? Can’t say I was totally invested in it, but there were some things that certainly spent time idling about hoping against all hope the XFL would return and flourish. As such, while I broke open the grill for another fabulous outdoor season of sizzling meat by tending to a rack of baby backs, I decided to conduct an interview with one who had been in the trenches since not only this re-issue of the XFL, but has been there since the first XFL experiment.

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Roughneck Report, Take 5

With all the hubbub, hullabaloo or both if you prefer (after all it is your life), I completely neglected to scribble out something for the Roughneck Report, Take 5.

I mean what was I thinking about? What else could possibly be going on to thwart me from my duties as the Roughnecks numero uno fan of the fan base probably only known by me as the Rowdies?

I could have been thinking that maybe… possibly… along the lines of our esteemed federal government this whole ‘virus thing’ would blow over, cross our collective paths like an errant tumbleweed across the great American desert.

Well my friends, that was not it. Those of us who are relatively sane knew how the Administration of the Bloated Circus Peanut would stumble around like a bantamweight after a Henry Cejudo haymaker and for certain fuck this whole mess up.

Oh well, back to the report. Okay. The Roughnecks have finished the aborted season undefeated and for certain are the de facto champions for the 2020 XFL season which may possibly be the only XFL season.

Hand them the fucking trophy Vince McMahon, which I think is just his head in a fabulous bronze patina.

Congrats Roughnecks. Now you can afford to go out and find a logo that doesn’t rip-off the old Houston Oilers.

No ending cheer. Season’s over.

PS Seriously be safe out there and do not trust in the Federal Government to give two shits about you and your family, not with the bleating yam in charge.

PPS Weezer really got me pumped to whip this little old report right quickly. Thanks!

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As Sure As There Is Winter: The 2021 Olympic Summer Games

As Sure As There Is Winter: The 2021 Olympic Summer Games

I am 33 years old. I first remember watching the Olympics when I was 5, though I had no idea what was happening. There was a magic to the Games, though. A sense that, even for a few weeks, the world can appreciate the best of what we are. I don’t know if it’s growing older or the feeling that the world keeps getting darker, but 2020 needed the Olympics. This morning, Japan Prime Minister Shinzo Abe and International Olympic Committee President Thomas Bach agreed in principle to postpone the Games until the summer of ’21 in effort to forego the danger of exacerbating the COVID pandemic. It is the right decision, but I’ll tell you, True Believers, it hurts.

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Carpe Noctem: The Ballad of Geoff Blum

Carpe Noctem: The Ballad of Geoff Blum

A baseball season can seem so long that a single plate appearance can seem largely insignificant. As summer’s long days turn cold and the importance of each game grows, pressure can change a batter’s approach. This is the essence of what you might hear as “postseason experience,” that enigmatic entity that seems to benefit some and forsake others. Perhaps there is little to all of that. If given only one opportunity at the highest stage, a player should, by that theory, crumble. But when the sample size is as low as possible, the predictability of the result is thrown into chaos. If given one at-bat in the World Series with the game in the balance, how would you fare? For Geoff Blum, the opportunity was there, all he had to do was decide what to do with it.

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A Game for the Age of COVID-19 (or) Sports Are Dead, What Do We Do Now?

A Game for the Age of COVID-19 (or) Sports Are Dead, What Do We Do Now?

This is, and I’m not overreacting here, the most batshit crazy week in sports history. A week ago right now, there was concern that some major sporting events would be played without fans present. Then the avalanche, triggered by Adam Silver’s declaration that the NBA would suspend play for the foreseeable future. So now what? The sole reason I’m fine with paying for satellite TV is gone. The CDC has advised we avoid each other at all costs. So how do we satisfy our sports addiction while also staying safe? Folks, if you’ve ever yelled “KOBE” while shooting trash into a wastebasket, you’re at least somewhat prepared for these perilous times.

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