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Opinion & Analysis

  • Sports commentary: Dribs and drabs

     

    Here are a couple of items for your consideration.  I wanted to share them, but I couldn't stretch any of them into a full column's length.

    Consider it housecleaning for the old noggin.

     

    While I must confess to having never heard of Diana Nyad prior to last week, I am startled by her accomplishments.

  • Sports Commentary: Auto-message

     

    "So, your new lady friend is a Wiccan, huh?"

    Those words were spoken to me many years ago.

    At the time, I lived in Richmond.  At the time, my next door neighbor was a musician:  as laid back as they come.  He was a pleasant fellow, cut from the stereotypical cloth of the 1960's style hippie.

    He had wandered over my way after the woman who would become the wife had just departed my abode, asking his nonsensical question.

    "What are you talking about, Cory?" I asked.

  • Sports commentary: What's in a name?

     

    Serious topics merit serious action.  And discussion.

    Lately, things seem to be getting fired up about the Washington Redskins.  

    The debate isn't whether the team has the right pieces in place to make the playoffs (it does).

    Nor is it about whether last year's sensation, RG III, will be pushed into action prematurely (I certainly hope not).

    The controversy is over the team's name.  Now, this issue erupts every so often.  Now, on the cusp of the season, it has arisen once more.

  • Sports commentary: A real bummer

     

    My summer is over.

    At least, my summer as it relates to Major League Baseball is done.

    I blame Neal Huntington and Clint Hurdle.  They are the general manager and manager (respectively) of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

    With my Cubbies swirling the drain, I have been pulling for the Pittsburghers to take the NL Central.  Of course, any of the other teams in that division are preferable to the hated Cardinals of St. Louis.

  • Commentary: Welcome back

     

    It would appear that the Steroids Era is back from the grave.  

    But absent the fun that came with it.

    The Milwaukee Brewers' Ryan Braun seems to be the latest Major League ball player who couldn't resist steroids' siren call.

    These days, big-name players are getting hit with big-time penalties.  Braun will sit out a 65-game stint, making him useless to the Brewers for the rest of the season.

  • Sports commentary: Happy state

     

    I love Virginia.

    I've lived in seven states and another country.  I've been to roughly 40 states and 20 countries.

    Virginia tops them all.  I think it is nearly the perfect place to live.  

    I could use this column to write a love note to the commonwealth, singing of its many, many virtues and attractions.

    But we have a tourism board to take care of that.

  • Sports commentary: Los gordos

    The news has been heavy lately. As in fat.
    Two items that have recently hit the national conscience involve weighty matters.
    The first is that the United States is no longer the fattest nation on earth. Mexico, of all countries, has supplanted us as the country with the greatest percentage of its people falling into the obese category.
    Or should I say that Mexico now has the largest percentage of ill people. That's because the second news item tells us that the American Medical Association (AMA) has deemed obesity to be a disease.
    More on that later.

  • Sports commentary: Inclusiveness

     

    How do you like them apples?

    The "you" in this case is anyone who was raised a fan of the Atlantic Coast Conference.

    "Them apples" refers to the new configuration of the ACC.

  • Sports commentary: The crooked game

     

    Before you know it, Major League Baseball's All-Star Game will be upon us.

    This year, the big fête will be held at New York City's Citi Field, home of the Mets.

    What this means is, in addition to witnessing the mid-summer classic game, we will be force-fed a bunch of pulp designed to glorify all that is New York.

  • Sports commentary: No fight left

     

    I'm not much of a golfer.  

    In fact, I'm not a golfer at all, having finally ditched my bag of sorry clubs a few years ago.

    The only golfing adventure I've had since then involved trying to get the ball through a windmill's blades or into the kangaroo's pouch at Pedro's Putt-Putt Paradise.

    I also don't watch the sport, having made the wife promise to shoot me, should she ever find me perched in front of the Golf Channel.  It is a promise she does not take lightly.