Sublime

I go to the 1989 French Open and in the third round I face Courier, my schoolmate from the Bollettieri Academy. I’m the chalk, the heavy favorite, but Courier scores the upset, then rubs my nose in it. He pumps his fist, glares at me and Nick. Moreover, in the locker room, he makes sure everyone sees him lacing up his running shoes and going for a

In 2015, Bill James said, “My view on the world is we have an ocean of ignorance and a small island of knowledge.” He wasn’t speaking specifically about baseball, but the observation applies, even to one of the most obsessively chronicled and comprehensively quantified human hobbies.

The Old Man was a lunatic, but he was a good, kind lunatic, and he couldn’t no more be a sane man in his transactions with his fellow white man than you and I can bark like a dog, for he didn’t speak their language. He was a Bible man. A God man. Crazy as a bedbug. Pure to the truth, which will drive any man off his rocker. But at least he knowed h

Ce n’était vraiment pas mon genre de musique, mais j’étais émue de voir Neil Young, car sa chanson « Ohio » avait fait une forte impression sur moi. Elle semblait cristalliser le rôle de commentateur responsable que devait tenir l’artiste, car elle rendait hommage aux quatre jeunes étudiants de Kent State qui avaient perdu la vie au nom de la paix.

Bob Denver, who played Gilligan, was an early idol, my fandom only tarnished when I saw him have a meltdown over a last-minute rewrite and upend a watercooler onto the floor of the soundstage.

I also buy a crate of 1989 Beychevelle and we promise to share a bottle every year on the anniversary of our first date.

Son client, « Rosy » l’avait baptisé « de Niro », parce qu’il avait à peu près son âge, cette même tête de springer fatigué par on ne sait trop quoi et cet air de se foutre du monde et de tellement d’autres choses.