Features

Ichiro Runs the Numbers Down

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On Wednesday, Ichiro stepped up and rapped a double down the right field line. Ichiro then stood on second base the holder of another record, albeit an unofficial one. In sizing up the sheer scale of the accomplishment, cold numbers fall short; it takes a long view to appreciate it. You have to have seen the stoic perfection play out day after day, year after year.

Etcetera 13.

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Clayton Kershaw, the Dodger on the mound.

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He of the high-winding high-wired hustle — chain lightening, a hit-preventing kick. He is strict.

Remembering Pro Football In Omaha

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The most interesting sporting event I’ve ever witnessed took place between a pair of football teams from a flash-in-the-pan league, full of never-was and has-been players competing in an iconic baseball stadium on the verge of…

On Federer and Me

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Federer and Me takes structural cues from A Fan’s Notes, it roams through dark periods in Skidelsky’s life, returning to idea that the Swiss Magician offered constancy during confusing, troubling times.

The Non-Champions Hall of Fame

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There are no ifs, maybes or caveats allowed in American sports and now in American culture—you’re either a champion or you’re a loser: a nothing. Because, as anyone who’s played a team sport has heard countless times from some numbskull coach, “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”

Etcetera 12.

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Dirt, cops, and stairs. Now this is a park. Dodger Stadium, a Tuesday evening in June.

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A dedicated grounds crew here, with the blue hose to shoot.

Not Yet: Life as a Padres Fan

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You are sitting in an oversized leather chair in your bedroom, watching the Rockies come back. Your stomach is cramping and your hands are shaking. As Matt Holliday rounds third base you drop your head in your hands and cry. Even though you are an adult with a child and a mortgage and a job, you cry. And you will never sit in that stupid chair again because it is absolutely the chair’s fault.