Wednesday, March 5, 2008


There's a lot of hate going 'round and quite frankly, it's stale, old, tired, pointless, mundane, absurd, revolting, repetitive and most of all, stupid.

Even in sports, hate flows so much that you can sometimes forget what you love about them in the first place. Maybe we need some reminders.

Love having once played the games yourself.

Love the history you didn't hear about on television.

Love when a player comes to your town and puts on a clinic.

Love the times in the backyard or at the gym where you tried the Dream Shake, but you tripped up and fell on your face.

Love the time when your brother didn't pick you on his team and you ended up beating them with a bases-loaded RBI single.

Love the undrafted rookie tight end.

Love Steve Bartman... PLEASE!

Love the greatest song and video from an athlete of all time.

Love Pony's comeback.

Love the combination of mental wherewithal with sheer physical strength.

Love the post-game camraderie between bitter rivals.

Love the no-calls, bad calls and "should-that-have-been-a-call?"

Love how first base was a patch of dirt in the grass, second base was a brown paper bag, third base was a tree and home plate was a puddle of mud yesterday afternoon.

Love the hard foul.

Love Scott Norwood (though the opening of this video is a little harsh, it's the best to be found).

Love the screen pass.

Love the single stretched into a double.

Love the fullback, the most unappreciated position in all of sports.

Love the third jersey.

Love Floyd Mayweather, Jr.

Love another team in another city besides your own.

Love the wire hanger and pair of socks you used to refine your jumpshot in your bedroom.

Love the gifted athletes who have yet to realize their potential.

Love the athletes who refuse to call it a career until their bodies tell them no more.

Love the first pitch, jumpball, kickoff and faceoff.

Love the pro-hop made famous by LeBron James, even though it travelling.

Love the "who the f%&@ are the Colorado Rockies and how did they come here and sweep their way to the World Series?"

Love the player that can't shoot a lick, can't dribble and can't pass, but can defend and rebound like hell.

Love the pros, taking their life's work and displaying it for the world to see.

Love the amateurs whose futures have yet to be determined.

Love the golf swing, even if you're trying too hard to drive the ball out of the course.

Love the player that has been traded to more times than you've been to McDonald's.

Love Manu Ginobili when he's not flopping every other play.

Love your team's biggest rival.

Love your biggest rival's best player.

Love your biggest rival's home city.

Love the random company that you never heard of which brought the naming rights to the stadium, even though you're going to call it something else entirely.

Love Roger Federer.

Love souvenir cups.

Love the silence of announcers when they've witnessed history.

Love the sweet science.

Love the conference championship games.

Love seeing several 250+ pound grown men falling over each other for a fumble recovery.

Love the chants of "DE-FENSE!"

Love watching two dozen cars veer nothing but lefts for four straight hours without bathroom or cigarette breaks.

Love the kid catching the foul ball or watching his favorite third basemen walk out of the dugout.

Love the medicines and medical practices made available thanks to the game's scariest moments.

Love that the defensive coordinator didn't take the head coaching job down I-95.

Love the
body bump, sports' best celebration.

Love women's sports.

Love thy sneaker.

Love football/futbol/soccer.

Love this writer.

Love another sport.

Love your sport.

Love sports.

Give Scribe something else to love.

No comments: