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This seems to be the Month of Frauds in the world of sports. So before we go any further, let’s expose a few more hoaxes. Deadspin, you can thank me later. Brace yourselves: -Adrian Peterson purposefully busted his left knee. In fact, that move worked out so well he’s planning
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The Baseball Writers’ Association of America began its vote for the 2013 Hall of Fame class Wednesday. This particular iteration of the ballot — which includes all-time greats like Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, and Mark McGwire — has triggered the fiercest debate yet among the baseball media over whether known
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Dear Kevin, I live just across the street from Goldman Field and I love soccer, so attending Sunday games has been one of my favorite hobbies in my four years at Cal. I roll out of bed a little before noon and wander over to the bleachers, where I soak
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As the final shattered pieces of Cal’s broken season fall to the ground, questions will inevitably be asked about who should lead the program next fall. But though this year’s string of dismal performances seems to have completed Jeff Tedford’s fall from grace among the football faithful, the financial ramifications
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Known as a virtuoso, Chucho Valdes put his vast array of skills on display Wednesday night at Zellerbach Hall, fusing Cuban jazz, funk, and a little bit of Bach over the course of his performance. Valdes began the evening with his calling card: the montuno-laden Cuban rhythms pulled straight from
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For the uninitiated: Jazz, though underpinned by a malleable lattice of chords and rhythms, relies heavily on improvisation and invention. But originality is not always the prerequisite for inspiration. Often, performers call upon the genius of their forebears and insert snippets of past work into their performance. “Those are invoked,”
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In the summer of 1933, world-famous physicist Wolfgang Pauli summoned postdoctoral student Felix Bloch to his Zurich office. What are your plans, Felix? he asked, presumably with the grandfatherly air of a concerned mentor. Well, said Bloch, I received a letter from this place named Stanford University. It’s in California.
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There was nowhere left to go but home, but still we stood and cheered. The players gathered on the field one last time and tipped their caps to the staccato claps between chants of “Let’s go Oakland!” Then, in single file, the A’s streamed from their dugout to the clubhouse
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“What do you want me to reassess and hope for?” Jeff Tedford snapped, defibrillating the overwhelmingly moribund press conference after Cal’s equally lifeless performance against ASU. “Reassessing — I don’t know what that means.”
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Given Stanford’s obvious standing in the intellectual community, I sometimes go to the Stanford Daily’s sports page for an intersection of the academy and athletics. I was thrilled to find last week an article that fit the bill: “Replacement refs? Yes, please.”
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