At the five-eighths pole, Cigar and the big gray colt, Holy Bull, were dueling for the lead when rider Mike Smith felt a thump, like a car tire going flat. Jerry Bailey, on Cigar, said he heard a loud pop. “Oh no!” Smitty cried out–and just like that, Holy Bull…
Okay, let’s hear it for Fat Billy Maharg. Whaddya mean you never heard of him? Spring training opens today, doesn’t it? Just about the time many of you see this, the boys of summer will be cantering onto emerald outfields in camps from Kissimmee to Tucson, feeling their spikes grab…
Now that Mike the Messiah has descended into Dove Valley, robes abulge with cash, is it too early to start dreaming of heaven? Nah. Take that orange hairshirt off this instant and try the future on for size. But remember, patience is still a virtue. Dallas and San Francisco weren’t…
In Baltimore, them baseball fans what still exist are getting ready this week for Babe Ruth’s 100th birthday party. There will be celebrations in other cities, too, but Baltimoreans are puffed up with the pride of authorship: The Bambino was born in a humble row house in their town on…
When last we checked, Fisher DeBerry was tucked safely in his bunk at the Air Force Academy with two armed sentries standing over him, and Don Baylor was hitting fungoes to a group of outpatients in Tucson, whipping them into shape for Opening Day. Of course, things may have changed…
In order to reach Cooperstown, New York, from the north, you drive south on winding, tree-shaded Route 28 through the villages of Dennison Corners, Richfield Springs and Schuyler Lake, whereupon the lovely shore of Lake Otsego springs into view, then the picturesque town beyond. From the south, stay on 28…
Once upon a time–which is to say early September–some pro football pundits were predicting a Super Bowl rematch between the San Francisco 49ers and the, uh, Denver Broncos. Fans at Mile High Stadium, this particular piece of wisdom held, would need pocket calculators to keep track of the points on…
Have you heard? Somebody shot the archduke. That means war, of course. As they straighten their crimson plumes, mount white horses and gallop off to the front, both sides still believe they will be home in three or four weeks, flushed with glory. But the dark skeptics think otherwise. This…
This was the most tumultuous year in American sports history–O.J. Accused! Nuggets Beat Seattle! World Series Canceled!–but behind the screaming headlines lay a core of sheer absurdity. Just two weeks ago, for instance, newspapers reported that June 17, 1994, the evening that fugitive O.J. Simpson led three dozen police cars…
We had Cuban sandwiches, oxtail stew and cold beer in a place on Southwest Eighth Street. Then we drove out to Calder in Martinez’s new Coupe de Ville. “Nice car, Henry,” I said. “It’s okay.” He shrugged. “Blessings of America. Who you like today?” I opened my fresh copy of…
Baseball’s problems have grown bigger than Babe Ruth, what with the possibility that the clubs may not step to the plate next year, either. Do you sense a little corporate fright out there? In Kansas City, the Royals have cut general-admission ticket prices by a dollar in an attempt to…
If, in the past two weeks or so, you’ve been watching the jock-sniffer segments on the TV news or plowing through the daily sports sections, you know now what deep thinkers like Copernicus and Bill McCartney and O.J. Simpson have known for ages: The earth revolves around the Heisman Trophy…
In the years that we’ve known and loved Bill McCartney, one absolute has been clearly established: Nothing the man does should come as a surprise. Yet when McCartney announced his resignation following the Buffs’ regular-season-ending victory over Iowa State, it was as if Newt Gingrich had thrown his support behind…
As Bill McCartney can tell you, if you’ve ever been to a football game in Texas–any football game–it’s like full immersion at the river bend. Texans take their football as seriously as their cattle, or their oil wells, or their ancient dislike of Oklahoma. If you don’t walk the walk…
Last week the only news trickling out of the moribund women’s tennis tour concerned the return of Jennifer Capriati, the eighteen-year-old burnout who is justifiably more famous for her adolescent misdeeds than for any real prowess on the court. Before her mug shots were plastered all over the front pages…
By the time you see this, the dogcatcher in Resume Speed, Idaho, has probably been voted out of office, and Teddy Kennedy may be driving a cab in Boston. The American electorate is clearly in a sour, surly mood for the long haul, the political pundits say. After Tuesday’s midterm…
Frankie Accardo, the philosopher, used to say that the greatest feeling in the world is when your horse wins. The second greatest feeling, he added, is when your horse doesn’t win. Frankie would know. In his customary perch just inside the eighth pole at Jamaica or Aqueduct, he experienced the…
Now that the National Basketball Association season is about to tip off, local connoisseurs are cautioning Denver Nuggets fans not to get their hopes up. That shocking upset of the powerful Seattle Supersonics in the playoffs last spring, the pundits reason, was not only a sign that the young Nuggets…
You always remember your first time. For Charles Sampson, it happened in Tishomingo, Oklahoma, in 1972, when he was fourteen. “That one should be a good ride,” the owner said to no one in particular, and Charles–they called him Pee Wee back then–clambered up on the fence for a better…
The personification of baseball this October–the game’s patron saint–might as well be William Aloysius Bergen, late of North Brookfield, Massachusetts. For he suits the present mood. Bergen, who spent eleven seasons as a catcher with the Cincinnati Reds and the Brooklyn Dodgers right after the turn of the century, played…
Certain Christian theologians tell us that the worst thing that can happen to a person is to catch a momentary vision of heaven, then watch the big gate swing shut without getting to go inside. Even if that’s not true, it could explain what’s wrong with those thugs and vigilantes…
In any other season, a gust of wind or an act of God would have steered the visitors’ last-ditch field goal try through the uprights. In any other season, the Colorado State Rams–the Rodney Dangerfields of football on the high plains–would again have found themselves reeling off to the dressing…
