Tim Baffoe attended the University of Iowa before earning his degree from Governors State University and began blogging at The Score after winning the 2011 Pepsi Max Score Search. He enjoys writing things about stuff, but not so much stuff about things. When not writing for 670TheScore.com, Tim corrupts America’s youth as a high school English teacher and provides a great service to his South Side community delivering pizzas (please tip him and his colleagues well). You can follow Tim’s inappropriate brain droppings on Twitter (@TimBaffoe), but please don’t follow him in real life. He grew up in Chicago’s Beverly neighborhood and currently lives in Mt. Greenwood.
Those seventeen seconds birthed a champion from the jaws of sure defeat. They made hockey just the coolest damn thing in the world, if only for a short period of time to the rest of the country and the world, but a hell of a lot longer in the Windy City.
ALS jokes. Victim blaming. Rape and sports comparisons. It’s been some week. And it’s only Hump Day.
“Commit to the Indian” isn’t just an order by a coach or a phrase to be mocked on sports radio. It’s something that might warrant a deeper consideration.
Chicago has dealt with enough awfulness that I feel we have more fans in this town that “get it;” “it” being, yeah, losing sucks, but I don’t have to look at this as just a black and white, did they win or did they lose issue.
Stanley Cup Finals preview pieces abound, and readers can get so inundated with them that the columns and articles and features become like vegetables to a six year old.
“He’s not a perfect player. We like the fit. We like what he brings to us intangibly. We wanted to get better up front. He’s a seasoned player.”
Because he acts like some meatball ambassador for Chicago and its sports teams without permission.
This is not difficult to understand. Nobody is taking away your precious baseball and replacing it with nine calculators. Teams are improving their chances of winning. Math doesn’t hit, throw, or catch the ball and never will.-
I enjoy watching Roy Hibbert play basketball. I enjoy watching Lebron James play basketball. I enjoy watching Roy Hibbert play basketball against Lebron James. In no way do I want to have sex with either of them, while they play basketball or otherwise.
You probably didn’t know that actual sh** has been contributing to Hawks victories. And, no, I don’t mean Daniel Carcillo.
Inanimate objects aren’t supposed to have existential crises, but here I am. What the hell is the point of me? Seriously.
Meatball karma has a funny way of striking a balance, doesn’t it?
And while one of the greatest defensive players of an organization mythologized for its defenses is likely feeling the deep sting of what Marcellus Wallace called “pride @#$%ing with you,” he will grow to realize what many of us already knew. This is right call.
Over a year later, it’s the same story. And unfortunately, again, the anger is directed at the wrong people.
First, the show will be awful, even by reality TV standards.
Jimmy Butler has been a huge part of this Chicago basketball season even existing in the second round of the playoffs, which, while not exactly a medal of honor, is still better than many expected with all the obstacles that had to be dealt with—no superstar, injuries and illnesses, Scalabrine withdrawal, etc.
Celebrate them as they work for us, making us feel good. Buy stock in the slogans. Don attire supporting them. Forget about them once they can’t fight for us anymore. Am I talking about soldiers or football players?
In much the same way rule changes have been implemented in youth sports to make them safer in hopes the grown-up games evolve—changing a culture of violence in hockey, for example—the prejudicial culture in sports needs to change from early on.
Look at Mark Buehrle at the 1:35 mark. Look at R.A. Dickey at 1:50. The color leaving the faces of J.A. Happ’s Toronto Blue Jays teammates as blood exited his head.
What we got here with the Bulls is failure to communicate.