It was almost the last touch of the game. A free kick nearly 40 yards out. There was no question who would take it. But could he do it? It seemed like an improbable script, green-lit by heaven
Four years on and I’m still fucking spooked by those vuvuzelas. Probably some arsehole imagined them, when blown in unison, conveying a mystical, indigenous élan of South Africa.
Years ago I worked with a former CEO of the Freo Dockers. And I always wanted to ask him: what’s wrong with us?
I have in my hands some American scripture, a small paperback first published in 1969. The book is 13 Days, Robert Kennedy’s posthumous memoir of the Cuban missile crisis…
NBA Commissioner David Stern was forced last night to make an embarrassing admission: that the trial to replace regulation basketballs with boogers had failed. At a packed press conference in New York City, a nervous Mr. Stern, 69, admitted that the trial period
Many things changed for me on November 7, 1991. I was ten and watching Magic Johnson speak at his most famous press conference. ‘Because of the HIV virus I have obtained, I will have to announce my retirement from the Lakers today,’ he said.
The Greatest will turn 70 soon. With this in mind, I re-watched When We Were Kings—the Oscar-winning documentary about Zaïre’s famous “Rumble in the Jungle” of 1974, involving an ageing Muhammad Ali…
I was 12 when I heard the news: Reggie Lewis, captain of the Boston Celtics, was dead. I didn’t know it at the time, but as Lewis was collapsing from a massive heart attack, my father was being told he probably didn’t have long himself.