1. THE PAST WAS a bitch, a heavy weight. He was like the serious painter who sees his new work is missing some core kernel that his old work had, so he bins it. Painter or writer. Lillee was serious about bowling. He was serious about everything. Lillee cried during Love Story.
His misfirings were visible, public, if “public” is the word for the County Championship. He could startle a batsman with a change-up in pace. But the explosive ball, at will, and when needed, was beyond him.
In his second-last game Derbyshire’s ninth-wicket pair, Frank Griffith and Ole Mortensen, survived the final 82 balls for a draw. Going out to pubs with Lamby, sometimes people did not recognise him.
2.Few players show their footballing feelings quite like Buffon. When he sings the Italian national anthem, as he has publicly on 147 appearances as goalkeeper representing his country, he drenches himself in emotion.
When he celebrates, as he did at the end of an intense Champions League semi-final against Real Madrid this week, he screams and shakes his fists with an operatic flourish that would grace La Scala. “This is a step we wanted to take with all of our hearts,” he explained later.
All sentimental gestures were understandable considering what memories a return to Berlin, the venue for Juventus’s Champions League final date with Barcelona, evokes for Buffon. “Destiny” was the word that came to his mind.
He tapped out a tweet that summed it all up for him: “Da Berlino alla B…..dalla B a Berlino!!!!! questa è la vita!!” From Berlin to Serie B and back again. That’s life, he exclaimed.
3.My overwhelming memory of the build-up to Saturday, May 11 1985 is that we were all going to a party. Instead it transpired we were heading to the single most traumatic day in the history of Bradford City Football Club, a day when 56 people set out to a football match and never came home.
Thirty years on, I have revisited that day in a documentary for BT Sport, speaking to those who were there, hearing the memories of fans and players, police and firemen. As well as those of my father, Terry Yorath. It is a story of horror, loss and devastation, of a darkness that still shrouds many. But it is also one of heroism, hope and healing.
Dad was assistant manager to Trevor Cherry at City. It was his first season in the dugout, having retired as a player the previous year. It had been hugely successful: Bradford won the old Third Division.
4.He was nothing if not itinerant, a rambling kind of a guy. But now he had a wife and two little kids, a girl and a boy. Bouncing from job to job was highly impractical, and money was running out. He was on the verge of asking his in-laws for a loan when, in 1987, a 4-year-old request to consult at ESPN paid off. Walsh had met Steve Bornstein, ESPN’s second-in-command, years earlier through a mutual friend. Bornstein had originally told Walsh the timing wasn’t right because the network couldn’t afford additional resources, but now, it could. Even though there were no discussions of a full-time position, Walsh grabbed the consulting gig.
Fast-forward to today, and the once-transient Walsh has just completed a 27-year, full-time career at ESPN, easily ranking as one of the most influential executives in the company’s history and as a transformative figure in the larger world of sports journalism.
5.The sad truth is that there’s reality and then there’s reality. The hard road to the top of the wrestling world makes for riveting pro wrestling storytelling, but abject tragedy is powerful enough on its own, and shoehorning it into fiction turns it into farce. “Adam Rose” may not be the best use of Ray Leppan, but “Ray Leppan, hard-luck family man” is the stuff jobbers are made out of.2 Because when there’s nothing else left, there’s reality.
In “BTC,” Corey Graves is trying to make a comeback from a series of concussions, and he fails the tests. WWE COO Triple H is obligated to tell him his in-ring career is over — but they give him a chance at being a commentator, and he excels.
And Xavier Woods has gone through an incredible last few weeks that saw his faction, The New Day, become appointment viewing on Raw, but the most surprising thing that happened to him this month was seeing the reverence with which the WWE developmental team held him on E:60.
6.Santos heard nothing more. But Snow, waiting below, heard an odd little scream that trailed off. “I heard a yelp, and rustling in the trees,” he said.
He found Souza lying in the snow. She was on her back at a strange angle. She was unconscious. Her breathing was not right, almost as if she were snoring. Her skis were askew. She was not moving.
Snow had seen someone in a similar state before — not on a mountain, but behind the wheel of a mangled car by the side of a road, after an accident. It was a terrifying sight. He went into autopilot, his first-aid training kicking in. As he worked to stabilize Souza’s neck, she became alert. She tried to talk.
“And then I said, ‘Laís, can you move your arms and legs?’ And she said no,” Snow said.
Gigi Buffon's longevity, Daniel Bryan's future and the week's best sportswriting
1. THE PAST WAS a bitch, a heavy weight. He was like the serious painter who sees his new work is missing some core kernel that his old work had, so he bins it. Painter or writer. Lillee was serious about bowling. He was serious about everything. Lillee cried during Love Story.
His misfirings were visible, public, if “public” is the word for the County Championship. He could startle a batsman with a change-up in pace. But the explosive ball, at will, and when needed, was beyond him.
In his second-last game Derbyshire’s ninth-wicket pair, Frank Griffith and Ole Mortensen, survived the final 82 balls for a draw. Going out to pubs with Lamby, sometimes people did not recognise him.
I’m a crocodile hunter, DK would say.
Christian Ryan examines the 39th summer of DK Lillee for The Cricket Monthly.
2. Few players show their footballing feelings quite like Buffon. When he sings the Italian national anthem, as he has publicly on 147 appearances as goalkeeper representing his country, he drenches himself in emotion.
When he celebrates, as he did at the end of an intense Champions League semi-final against Real Madrid this week, he screams and shakes his fists with an operatic flourish that would grace La Scala. “This is a step we wanted to take with all of our hearts,” he explained later.
All sentimental gestures were understandable considering what memories a return to Berlin, the venue for Juventus’s Champions League final date with Barcelona, evokes for Buffon. “Destiny” was the word that came to his mind.
He tapped out a tweet that summed it all up for him: “Da Berlino alla B…..dalla B a Berlino!!!!! questa è la vita!!” From Berlin to Serie B and back again. That’s life, he exclaimed.
Gianluigi Buffon is still the godfather in gloves argues Amy Lawrence in the Guardian.
3. My overwhelming memory of the build-up to Saturday, May 11 1985 is that we were all going to a party. Instead it transpired we were heading to the single most traumatic day in the history of Bradford City Football Club, a day when 56 people set out to a football match and never came home.
Thirty years on, I have revisited that day in a documentary for BT Sport, speaking to those who were there, hearing the memories of fans and players, police and firemen. As well as those of my father, Terry Yorath. It is a story of horror, loss and devastation, of a darkness that still shrouds many. But it is also one of heroism, hope and healing.
Dad was assistant manager to Trevor Cherry at City. It was his first season in the dugout, having retired as a player the previous year. It had been hugely successful: Bradford won the old Third Division.
Gabby Logan talks about her personal experience of the Bradford Fire in the Telegraph.
4. He was nothing if not itinerant, a rambling kind of a guy. But now he had a wife and two little kids, a girl and a boy. Bouncing from job to job was highly impractical, and money was running out. He was on the verge of asking his in-laws for a loan when, in 1987, a 4-year-old request to consult at ESPN paid off. Walsh had met Steve Bornstein, ESPN’s second-in-command, years earlier through a mutual friend. Bornstein had originally told Walsh the timing wasn’t right because the network couldn’t afford additional resources, but now, it could. Even though there were no discussions of a full-time position, Walsh grabbed the consulting gig.
Fast-forward to today, and the once-transient Walsh has just completed a 27-year, full-time career at ESPN, easily ranking as one of the most influential executives in the company’s history and as a transformative figure in the larger world of sports journalism.
The life and work of John Walsh is examined by James Andrew Miller on Sports Business Daily.
5. The sad truth is that there’s reality and then there’s reality. The hard road to the top of the wrestling world makes for riveting pro wrestling storytelling, but abject tragedy is powerful enough on its own, and shoehorning it into fiction turns it into farce. “Adam Rose” may not be the best use of Ray Leppan, but “Ray Leppan, hard-luck family man” is the stuff jobbers are made out of.2 Because when there’s nothing else left, there’s reality.
In “BTC,” Corey Graves is trying to make a comeback from a series of concussions, and he fails the tests. WWE COO Triple H is obligated to tell him his in-ring career is over — but they give him a chance at being a commentator, and he excels.
And Xavier Woods has gone through an incredible last few weeks that saw his faction, The New Day, become appointment viewing on Raw, but the most surprising thing that happened to him this month was seeing the reverence with which the WWE developmental team held him on E:60.
Grantland’s Masked Man takes a closer look at WWE’s ‘Reality’ era.
6. Santos heard nothing more. But Snow, waiting below, heard an odd little scream that trailed off. “I heard a yelp, and rustling in the trees,” he said.
He found Souza lying in the snow. She was on her back at a strange angle. She was unconscious. Her breathing was not right, almost as if she were snoring. Her skis were askew. She was not moving.
Snow had seen someone in a similar state before — not on a mountain, but behind the wheel of a mangled car by the side of a road, after an accident. It was a terrifying sight. He went into autopilot, his first-aid training kicking in. As he worked to stabilize Souza’s neck, she became alert. She tried to talk.
“And then I said, ‘Laís, can you move your arms and legs?’ And she said no,” Snow said.
“And she looked at me and said, ‘Ryan, help me.’”
Sarah Lyall in the New York Times tells the incredible story of Laís Souza.
– First published 08.30
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