The road less traveled
Take your pick: Kobe Bryant or Michael Jordan?
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Take your pick: Kobe Bryant or Michael Jordan?
What happened to Tiger Woods? Anyone? Well fine, if no one will step up, I guess I'll take a crack at it.
About 30 minutes after Super Bowl XLVI ended - a full half hour after Tom Brady's last-second Hail Mary fell innocuously to the Indianapolis turf - one of my roommates breached the implicit quarantine of my room, which had been in effect all night. He cautiously cracked open my door and stealthily snapped a picture.
Thoughts while desperately trying to keep my mind off Sunday's Giants game - I mean
Think about your favorite movie, the one you can watch on any single day, at any given moment, and instantly be transported to a better place. Everyone has one.
Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather be told that something is absolutely awful before you tell me it's extraordinary.
Last Friday, my friends and I went out for a night on the town. We were celebrating the 21st birthday of one of my best friends, so our collective mood was quite festive. And while both length and content restrictions won't allow me to fully chronicle the circumstances of the night, I can assure you it was a fun time.
For months now, David Stern and his cronies - read: the NBA owners - have maintained, or at the very least alluded, to the idea that if the players agreed to a 50/50 split of basketball-related income, a deal would ultimately get made. They've professed that as a business, the NBA is currently failing, and that, despite coming off one of the best seasons in league history, the owners are losing money across the board. And while the miniscule amount of financial information the league publicly disclosed never quite validated this claim, an even split of revenue has continued to be Stern's sticking point throughout the lockout.
Last week, after the Giants had just rallied back to beat the woeful Dolphins, I strongly considered writing a column dedicated solely to Eli Manning. I was going to argue how underrated and under-appreciated Eli has been throughout his career, a sentiment anyone who has ever met me can attest I firmly believe to be true. I was also going to explain why, aside from the wunderkind Aaron Rodgers, Manning has been the most valuable player in the NFL so far this season, and I wasn't going to care who laughed at me. It would have been glorious, trust me.
As the No. 17 Virginia wrestling team prepares for tomorrow's season opening tri-meet against Campbell and Anderson, coach Steve Garland's approach to a brand new regular season ultimately remains unchanged.
Basketball never stops. Well, at least that's what the people at Nike are attempting to convince us of with their new line of commercials. And despite the copious amounts of evidence seemingly pointing to the contrary, I am trying my very best to believe them.
"What do I feel right now?" coach Steve Garland asked. "I feel excitement, because, look, I'm going to be totally blunt with you, the stuff we do [in the offseason] isn't all that fun."
Many Sundays ago, Lawrence Taylor was captured on videotape prowling the Giants sidelines before a game, imploring his teammates to "go out there like a bunch of crazed dogs." The video perfectly encapsulates Taylor's raw intensity and borderline - complete? - insanity, and it gives me chills every time I see it. Today, the clip is storied, cherished and sampled regularly around the league, all to preserve the legacy of an historically great player and maintain the memory of a callous, merciless NFL era.
I did not go to last Saturday's football game against Georgia Tech. In all honesty, I do not go to any U.Va. football games anymore.
Thoughts while wondering if Sloan actually did hook up with Seth Green on "Entourage":
I waited until the very last minute to begin this column. I wanted to watch as much postseason baseball as possible before I delved into the topic. Because of this decision, I am starting this paragraph immediately after watching Derek Jeter strike out with two on and two out, down one run, during the ninth inning of game three of the ALDS against the Tigers Monday night.
When I was 10 years old, I experienced the Giants' improbable run to Super Bowl XXXV. Unfortunately, I was too young to fully appreciate the moment. If your team recently has played for a championship, you know exactly what I mean. Real fans savor every second of a magical season, like a chain smoker deeply inhaling every puff of his last cigarette before going on an intercontinental flight and looking like he might not exhale until he makes it through security.
Many moons ago, there was a young, wily boxer - an overzealous, undersized scrapper who never fought as the physically bigger man. Every bout would start the same, our hero firing out of his corner, head full of steam, headed directly for his opponent. He would throw combination after combination with tenacity and persistence, resolute in his attack and unyielding in his desire. But the punches would merely bounce off his opponent; his combatant would swat them away like flies, smiling a sadistic grin all the while. And the fights would always end the same way, the protagonist growing increasingly frustrated, ultimately losing his composure for mere seconds, lowering his gloves and subsequently getting dropped with a right hook. Fight over.
Plaxico Burress should be a New York Giants legend. He just should. There's no debate about it.
Flabbergasted. That's the word Tiki Barber's agent, Mark Lepselter, used to describe how he felt about his client not getting the opportunity to make an NFL roster this offseason, save for a single workout with the Dolphins in early August. I must ask, though - were you really flabbergasted, Mark?