Monthly Archives: February 2011

Like our man Phife, the 5-foot assassin after the Sundance screening of the new Quest documentary.

Here is the official website for the movie.

What is your go-to sandwich for lunch? I got back-and-forth between salami and ham with assorted fixings…

“I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying.”
– Woody Allen

I couldn’t help but think of this classic Woody quote yesterday after Rob Neyer announced that he’s leaving ESPN. Almost immediately, a series of appreciations appeared on-line, from the likes of Will Leitch, Craig Calcaterra, Tommy Craggs and the boys at Pinstriped Bible (to name just a few). Rob is one of the most influencial baseball writers of the Internet Generation, and he’s a nice guy to boot, so it was warming to see all the love thrown his way. Especially, since he’s not, you know, dead.

Rob might have left ESPN but he’s not retiring. Today, he started blogging for SB Nation.

Here’s a cool Super Bowl primer from the SI Vault–game recaps for every Super Bowl every played.

Most Tuesday nights, I play basketball for a few hours in a tiny, dank gymnasium on the West Side. When I hop on the uptown train to head home, I’m a sweaty mess. I try to stand as far away from the other passengers as possible, but those 30 minutes are hellishly uncomfortable.

Heaven forbid that I need a seat. Some nights, the game gets rough and I’m too sore to stand the whole way. It’s usually empty enough to find a seat, but rarely is that seat out of smelling distance from the others on the train.

It’s particularly upsetting when I’ve calculated my stench radius, chosen a “safe” location, only to watch a new rider get on the train and head for a seat right next to me.

First a hint of disturbance crosses her face. Then her nose crinkles as she sniffs more deeply for confirmation. Her eyes search for the source. As suspicion gives way to recognition, I know she knows. She gathers her stuff and finds a new seat. If she’s kind, she doesn’t look back.

Of course, worrying about it so much just intensifies the sweatiness. The only thing worse than being on a stinky train is being the stink.

R.I.P. John Barry.

Nah, it ain’t snow, it’s a “wintery mix.” Sleet in the Bronx, rain in midtown.

Bring it on…and yo, is this going to be some kind of great spring or what? People are going to bug when it finally gets warm.