The old American Legion baseball field in Crown Point, Ind., did not have a right-field wall, or even a fence made of chain link. It had a corn field.
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Last Sunday was Christmas for gearheads: The Monaco Grand Prix, Indianapolis 500 and Coca-Cola 600, all on the same day. I found a camshaft in my stocking. When I woke up, Bobby Unser already had come down the chimney to polish off the Valvoline and cookies.
There’s a scene in the iconic stock-car movie “Days of Thunder” that takes place the night before the big race — the Daytona 500, if memory serves — in which Robert Duvall talks to Tom Cruise’s car. Duvall was cast as crusty crew chief Harry Hogge; Cruise as brash young driver Cole Trickle.
“If we don’t do this, the sport is dead,” Asher said when asked what brings him here, and so it can be assumed that he is not entirely optimistic about where bowling is headed since ABC stopped showing it on TV.
A guy from Indianapolis, a Butler grad named Ed Carpenter, on Sunday earned his second consecutive pole position start for the Indianapolis 500 with an asphalt-blistering four-lap average speed of 231.067 mph.
About a year ago at this time, Lateef Omidiji Jr. was standing in the dock at Southampton. He wasn’t trying to get to Holland or France. That was John Lennon and Yoko Ono in the “Ballad of John and Yoko.”
It has been eight days since the Clinton LumberKings rallied from a 17-1 sixth-inning deficit to defeat Burlington 20-17 in a Class A Midwest League game. It happened it Iowa, where time has been known to stand still. So it’s like it happened yesterday.
After meeting the nucleus of the Las Vegas Masters swimming team, it becomes apparent that Ponce de Leon was onto something when he sailed to Florida in the 16th century seeking the fountain of youth.
He rode ’im, you know.
Las Vegas’ Allan Dykstra, Zach Lutz, Taylor Teagarden and Brandon Allen hit consecutive home runs in Salt Lake City Thursday night, and became only the fifth quartet to smack back-to-back-to-back-to-back long balls in Pacific Coast League history.
The wide receiver spotted the quarterback holding the football. He instinctively knew what to do. He ran a post pattern, accelerating at full speed — or what seemed like it, at least.
Forty years ago, in 1974, pro football’s draft wasn’t televised, so people sometimes forget that four of the Pittsburgh Steelers’ first five picks went on to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
It was racing motorcycle weekend in Las Vegas, or as I like to call it, “Vroom with a view.” Wherever you turned, guys were doing wheelies and catching big air.
This is what most people know about the sport of international cliff diving:
The last time I spoke with Dirk Hayhurst was 2009. He was standing about 375 feet from home plate at Wrigley Field in Chicago, shagging batting practice fly balls — but mostly he was just standing there with the other Las Vegas pitchers — before a special 51s game against the Iowa Cubs.
Kurt Busch hopes to complete the auto racing double on May 25, driving the Indianapolis 500 during the day and the NASCAR Coca-Cola 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway in North Carolina at night. This is the auto racing double.
When they ran onto the field Sunday on an ideal day for baseball, the time was 12:08 p.m., the temperature was 67 degrees, the wind was blowing from left field to right at 8 mph and the Las Vegas 51s were the best team in minor league baseball, by percentage.
It’s Saturday morning at the end of Lake Las Vegas Parkway where the pavement stops, where everything green turns to brown and the terrain becomes uneven. Streams of people, many dressed as superheroes or Star Wars characters, are walking toward the same place. Some are stretching hamstrings.
On the cover of the new book Jerry Reuss finally got around to writing is a picture of him standing on the pitcher’s mound looking mostly irritated, and of Tommy Lasorda, looking mostly blurry, in the foreground. Blurry Lasorda, it can be assumed, is about to remove irritated Reuss from the ballgame.
There was the side Bob Dylan sang about and the side Denzel Washington portrayed in the movies. That was an admirable side. Then there was the other side, the rough side. That’s the side you didn’t hear too much about.
They are two of the most profound tragedies in sports, separated by 41 years, linked by a trail of tears. Frank Shorter was there for both. It’s not something he’s proud of; it’s something he endured. Sometimes, the fates just conspire in strange ways.
Last year at this time, amateur wrestling was trapped in a full Nelson.
Ten days ago there she was, 14-year-old Hunter Pate, a female, a Cinderella story from out of nowhere — an eighth-grader at Grant Sawyer Middle School in Las Vegas. And she was about to become champion at Augusta National.
When he was a younger man, Bill Lusk flew Nikita Khrushchev’s bags around the U.S. during one of the former communist leader’s visits. Now that he’s 80, Bill Lusk drives a one-of-a-kind Porsche 911 around Auto Club Speedway in California at high rates of speed.
When I bumped into Tim Chambers Saturday morning on the UNLV campus, the wind had not yet started to blow. The Rebels baseball coach was driving a golf cart, showing supporters around. He appeared happy, happy and hairy.