Before Phil Jackson ranted about bogus calls, before Sir Alex Ferguson got another five match ban for his outbursts and before Didler Drogba screamed into television cameras about a “motherfucking disgrace,” a Roman gladiator named Diodorus complained how a referee’s bad call cost him the match – on his epitaph.
Most gladiatorial epitaphs include details of the deceased’s professional life. This particlular tombstone was unusual, according to Professor Michael Carter of Brock University, because it told a story. Continue reading →
Yesterday the attorney representing disgraced slightly inconvenienced former Ohio State Quarterback Terrelle Pryor compared the NCAA rule book to slavery.
If there’s any question about the dominant sport in America, consider this: On the day the NBA Finals begin and the eve of Stanley Cup Finals game 1, sports pages are consumed with a college football head coaching position. On June 1. Almost three months before the 2011 season begins. Such is life in big-time college football, and Ohio State is about as big-time as it gets. Continue reading →
Many reasons have been given for why we like sport so much. Tribalism. Throwbacks to our fight-or-flight reflexes. Vicariously living through the talents of others. Freudian reactions to balls and big bats and sticks. Beer.
But what causes some sporting moments to become not merely great, but forever etched in our memories? Continue reading →
On a twisting, winding, downhill road, 50 miles per hour in a car would probably feel like a steerable roller coaster. The same road at 50 miles per hour on a bicycle would probably feel more like an out of control nightmare. For cyclists, speeds of even 70 mph and up are part of the job with only their helmet, bike, and superior instincts to buffer against the unforgiving combination of gravity and asphalt. Even world class cyclists can fall victim to any combination of bad luck, mechanical failure, and a momentary (read split-second) lapse in judgment. Continue reading →
In the tough, testosterone-filled world of men’s professional sports, there are not many, if any, openly gay employees at any level. Certainly no players, and apparently, no executives. That changed yesterday when the President and CEO of the NBA’s Phoenix Suns, Rick Welts, came out in a story in the New York Times.
In rather morbid sports news of the day, Twitter was a-twitter late last night with the news that New York Rangers hockey forward Derek Boogaard, 28, was found dead in his apartment yesterday. No cause of death or reason has been provided at this time.
When he’s not releasing his birth certificate to you racist bastards, or personally flying Blackhawk helicopters into Pakistani airspace to kill Bin Laden with his bare hands, Barry H. Obama is taking on the important shit that’s affecting our world, like college football’s playoff system:
(CNN) — In a letter to the NCAA disclosed Wednesday, the Justice Department said it has received several requests for an antitrust investigation into the current Bowl Championship Series system…
“Serious questions continue to arise suggesting that the current BCS system may not be conducted consistent with the competition principles expressed in federal antitrust laws,” Assistant Attorney General Christine Varney told NCAA President Mark Emmert.
If President Barry kills Osama and delivers us a PROPER GODDAMN COLLEGE FOOTBALL PLAYOFF SYSTEM in a single week, it will go down as the greatest achievement since Bristol Palin’s son Trig singlehandedly destroyed Wonkette out of pure vengeance and wrath.
Dorky songs on your workout playlist! C’mon, we all have them.
What’s on your workout list?
If you’ve read my article about me boxing, you know I get INTO that shit. I like songs that pump up and kick ass.
Tops on my list:
The Theme to Rocky. Of course. Because that’s the Nor’Easter running past you, through Queens, on her way to Philadelphia, where I’m going to run up those steps someday.
“Eye of the Tiger” — the Survivor Version and the Gloria Gaynor version
“I Will Survive” — speaking of Ms. Gaynor
“We’re Not Gonna Take It” — Twisted Sister. Because I’m not going take it. I’m going to punch you, mofo.
“Cum On Feel the Noize” — Quiet Riot. Yeah, I said Quiet Riot. Not Slade.
“Theme to St. Elmo’s Fire” — because I am where the Eagles are flying, higher and higher
“Straight Outta Compton’ — N.W.A. I could not be less outta Compton. I am a white woman from the suburbs of Boston. But I wrap up my hands and throw punches to this sweet ditty, I am gangsta.
“Back in the Saddle” — Aerosmith. Because I am Boston girl, and I would love to play horsie with Steven Tyler.
I will start with the cheap grab for the attention of my straight female and gay male audience:
I will continue with the cheap grab for the attention of the straight males and lesbians:
(She’s married to a footballer, so the picture is relevant)
Finally, I will start with a short video encapsulating modern Australian Rules Football (or “AFL” as it is usually called now after the main league, imaginatively titled the Australian Football League).
AFL is a game played by two teams with an oval ball (like rugby and American football) on a field with a goal at either end (like rugby and American football). It is generally believed to have arisen out of Gaelic Football (like an Irish cross between rugby and soccer) and the Aboriginal game Marn Grook. The earliest games were played on fields a mile long and teams of hundreds, as a way to keep fit in winter, but these days the field is normal stadium-sized and the teams are 18 a side (plus 3 on the interchange bench, who can substitute on and off for other players as often as they like).
Teams score by kicking the ball through the two central posts of the goal (6 points), or by kicking the ball between a central post and a side post (1 point) or putting the ball through the goals by a means other than kicking (1 point).
Unlike most modern sports, AFL has no rules limiting where people can run or move the ball within the field of play. No offside, no rule against forward passes or backpasses, no icing, no time limit on standing in the paint, nothing. This can lead to extremely free-flowing high-scoring games or to highly defensive games where teams emphasise retaining possession over advancing the ball.
Players may run with the ball, kick the ball or “handball” the ball. A handball is holding the ball in one hand and punching it away with the other. You’ll have seen a few of them in the video at the top of the article.
AFL is a contact sport and tackling is the main way to stop someone. A player who is tackled and can’t get rid of the ball, having had “prior opportunity” to get rid of the ball (you can just put the ball in someone’s hands and pin it to them!) gives away a free kick. It is this free kick, imaginatively titled “holding the ball”, which leads to AFL crowds yelling “BAAAAAAALLLLLLLL” for every tackle, no matter how good.
The signature skill of AFL is the “mark”. A “mark” is a clean catch of the ball from a kick travelling over 10 meters, and the player who does it gets a free kick. A mark within range of goal is one of the few moments an AFL game will stop, as everyone waits for the guy who took the mark to catch his breath and line up the free shot. A pack attempting to mark the ball will inevitably form under any high ball, leading to amazing acrobatics and also moments of indomitable courage.
Don’t hit people and don’t tackle players who don’t have the ball. Any other rule, your guess is probably as good as the umpire’s anyway.
AFL is currently on ESPN3 three times a week in the USA, and I understand on TSN in Canada once a week. Check your local guides etc etc. If one of the games involves the Gold Coast Suns, be warned—they are a new team this year, full of rookie players, and they are being mercilessly flogged by everyone who plays them. Not the best example of the game, sadly.
Before Phil Jackson ranted about bogus calls, before Sir Alex Ferguson got another five match ban for his outbursts and before Didler Drogba screamed into television cameras about a “motherfucking disgrace,” a Roman gladiator named Diodorus complained how a referee’s bad call cost him the match – on his epitaph.
