I haven’t read a ton of band-related books, but lately I haven’t been able to put down KISS: Behind the Mask, the group’s 2003authorized biography. It’s not that the writing is otherwordly or dazzling. It’s just really, really raw—an oral history that doesn’t hide shitty music or pretend KISS was
“Charlie Sheen is not a warlock, for a warlock is a wise person who understands the ways of the spirit world.” Seriously, a guy could go his entire life and never hear a better quote. Never. I’ve ignored Charlie Sheen’s plight, but this is fantastic because: A. Fox is so
Just appeared on a St. Louis radio show … said something, got off the air, thought, “Doh! That was stupid.” I was talking about my criticisms of Albert Pujols, and—toward the end—I mentioned he was the only guy wearing sunglasses. It was a dumb point to begin with, because, well,
… is on Trever Miller, the anti-Pujols (kidding) and a helluva great guy. I love ballplayers like Miller, because they get that this whole fantasy is temporary, and inevitably the real world will take over. The embrace the moments at hand. Great guy, great guy to write about.
Just thought of something funny, figured I’d share. Seven or eight years ago I went to Miami to write a Sports Illustrated profile of—of all the people—Vanilla Ice. In the years after Ice, Ice Baby, the Ice Man became a pretty decent motorcross racer, and was really into the sport.
Am about to go on a sports talk radio show in St. Louis to talk Albert Pujols. As a general rule, I don’t overwhelmingly enjoy sports talk radio segments. It’s nothing personal or even especially interesting. I just consider time precious—the days pass so rapidly, the hours are an eye’s
The above video has nothing to do with nothing. It’s Ronald Reagan praising unions. Which is funny, since so many modern Republicans cite our 40th president when it comes to the GOP’s current union-thrashing fever. But I disgress. A few minutes ago I was thinking about an odd moment from
I love sports fans. But I often hate the perceptions of sports fans. Especially the most dogged and devoted of the group. Especially the adults who qualify. If you’re a kid, and you unconditionally love Albert Pujols, well, great. You’re a kid. You see the bright colors and cheering crowds.
My friend Mike Lewis just told me about this story. Wes Leonard, a 16-year-old high school basketball star in Michigan, hits the winning basket, is swarmed by teammates, celebrates—and dies. As always, hug your kids tonight. Life is precious. Here’s the link.