For six months, the banality of being a not-playing soccer player on a lower-division club ate away at Manny. He could go out with his roommates to bars and say he was a Gales player, but no pictures of him in a Gales uniform appeared on TV or the newspaper. The local press simply didn’t care. Nobody was a fan.
I never expected to get my baseball fill from a board game until I picked up a copy of W. M. Akers’s Deadball: Baseball with Dice. Funded in under four hours on Kickstarter, the baseball simulation uses simple player statistics, dice, and traditional baseball scorekeeping to a surprisingly realistic effect. A few weeks ago, after playing a few rounds with the early, unfinished rulebook, I reached out to Akers to talk about the origins of the game.
As the iridescent fog settled into Chavez Ravine during the 7th inning of the World Baseball Classic’s second semi-final, the tension in Dodger Stadium simmered low. The crowd was sparse, yet dedicated, having shown up during the height of the day’s rain shower and persevered throughout under umbrellas, rain jackets, and ponchos.
His new book, Party in the Back, collects over 300 photos Tino took while documenting his exploits finding, cleaning, and skateboarding the abandoned, or simply unfilled, pools of Southern California with his friends Rick and Buddy—all while inevitably waiting for the cops to show and break up the party.
For 26 years, I played in the same Sunday afternoon, full-court basketball game with the same guys. Then my Medicare card arrived in the mail and I switched to doubles tennis. Occasionally, at the gym some 20-somethings will see me shooting and ask me to join them. I figure since I have to die one day, might as well be while trying to hit the open man.
On the tables closest to the stage, each club’s scarves are carefully laid out around bouquets of flowers and team signage, where management and representatives from the 10 organizations will conduct their draft. The players hoping to be drafted are not far behind them in the audience. With family, friends, and even some youth club coaches in attendance, the event is open to the public, and I can’t imagine anyone here, regardless of what brought us, has only a casual interest in The Beautiful Game.
All of these women’s names and all of their stories are stuck in dusty old books and magazines that no one ever looks at anymore because they’re in libraries. They’re not on the Internet. So, I decided to create an Instagram account specifically for these stories and get them pushed onto a popular culture media platform.
I was on the floor during Game 7 of the World Series mumbling to myself, tears running down my face pretty much from the 6th inning when David Ross hit that homer and onward until about three in the morning before finally passing out. As a lifelong Cubs fan, that was easily one of the most intense, insane, and ultimately wonderful experiences I’ve ever gone through.