Covid-19 has forced us to replace sports with documentaries about sports. Kills time, but fucks up the betting.
ESPN played “The Last Dance”, Michael Jordan’s ode to himself, and 30 for 30’s series on Lance Armstrong practically back-to-back.
It hadn’t rained in Tucson for 50 days and 50 nights. The first time it did, my fucked up tennis friends “ran away” like they were being chased by a killer rabbit.
Believe it or not, I have a friend, who recently became “famous” for quitting. Well, at least “internet famous” (in Tucson only) when he quietly retired.
We often forget the impact we have on others. Here’s a little reminder that came from The Boy (now age 29) through Facebook Messenger of what a shitty dad I am.
I tried to play volleyball, once. Nearly, got my nose broken (by the Bear) and almost got in a different fight.
It was early in our relationship. Shortly after I ate the tamale husks to impress the Savages.
If you are going to have a team, it’s going to need a nickname, a mascot and some fucked up cheers.
The Bear teaches 6th grade in a poor neighborhood. Every once in a while when the Phoenix Suns really suck, they pad the house by giving away tickets
This religious zest for drug purity in sports is bullshit at it’s best.