My grandmother had a thick, green strip of grass in her back yard, in front of a yellowing garage that, far as I know, she never used. When the lawn reached its lushest — sometime between June and September — I’d drag one of my brothers out there with a glove and a ball, and… Read More The problem with baseball
Almost 20 years have passed since The City Too Busy to Hate last hosted The Big Game. But it’s happening again. The Super Bowl is coming to Atlanta. In a sobering, unavoidable, undeniable fact, the Super Bowl — brace yourself, COTNS — already is here. Tom Brady rolled into town over the weekend. The team that the… Read More Super Atlanta
Several years ago, journalists at The Washington Post loosed their considerable investigative resources onto the world of pro football. The dogged scribes there weren’t digging into Deflategate or drug problems or skinflinty millionaire owners or brain injuries or men in too-tight pants who like to punch women in their off-hours. They were instead breaking down… Read More The problem with football
Back in July, Mary Jo and I took a quick road trip (2 1/2 hours) up to a place we had stopped in once before: Greenville, SC. We needed to knock out a Marriott night to keep our points active. And, heck, a little weekend getaway is something we all should do more often. Right?… Read More The joy of the minors
I have covered one auto racing event in my career. I expect that will be the only one I ever will. And that would be just fine with me. I have never, ever, felt so in-over-my-head on an assignment as I did on Race Day at the Daytona 500 in 2001. I spent most of that week… Read More Scenes from my bulletin board
In the five or six or seven years that my friend Lloyd and I played basketball together, we covered each other, by my ultra-conservative count, 500 times. At least once on each day we played, which was usually twice a week, most weeks of the year. Inside, outside, on the blacktop courts at the middle… Read More Lloyd
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