In 1980, I was covering the Philadelphia Phillies for a newspaper in Allentown, Pa., when, in early August, I left to take a job at the now defunct
In 1976, my wife and I were bumming around London and somehow scraped together a few shillings for Wimbledon tickets during the second week. We saw
I have a son who as of last year decided that he wanted to swim, bike and run himself into exhaustion. He's done it five times, including one half-ironman, and now he wants to take on the entire 2.4-mile swim/112-mile bike ride/full marathon boat next year. I've fallen in love with the whole thing ... as long as I'm just watching with a full complement of ice water.
During a recent vacation in Italy, we spent a day in Siena, whose grandest attraction, the Piazza del Campo, is also the site of one of sports' craziest events. Twice a year, on July 2 and Aug. 16, bareback riders take off on three wild laps around the square, on which a thick layer of dirt has been laid. Invariably, a jockey or two gets tossed. Italy loves a pageant under any circumstance, and this one must be insane.
I read a story recently about a 100-year-old tennis player, who also competes in the Senior Games, which I never knew existed. This year's Games are in San Francisco in August. I mean, how cool is it that there's a 90-94 division ... in the freakin' pole vault? What's the winning height, 2 feet, 6 inches? With my 60th birthday hard upon me, I'd like to find at least one event in which to compete. When I get older, of course.
I've covered several Super Bowls, a few Finals Fours, too-many-to-count NBA Finals and only one Masters. I'll take the Masters. Compelling storylines invariably develop over four days, and you can't find a more pleasing venue at which to do your work. Plus, you can sneak out to play a round or two, and the pimento sandwiches at the course take care of hunger pangs.