By every account, Manny Pacquiao has agreed to every nuance of Floyd Mayweather Jr.’s demands, including rampant PED testing, a smaller share of the epic purse, and a lower perch on the glittering marquee.
We love the NFL because it’s mostly a meritocracy, which brings us to the divisional round, the top shelf of football delicacies.
The NFC and AFC North titles will be fought for by iconic franchises, in sacred arenas; just 60 minutes of mayhem in old, cold NFL towns.
With more dueling monologues than a presidential campaign, it’s sounding more and more like Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao will fight next year.
The bell has tolled for Brian Hoyer. And he never really had a chance. It’s showtime for Johnny Manziel. An entirely different show than the one to which he’s become so accustomed.
This is not because Rodgers beat Brady last week. The game was whisker-close and you could easily argue that the Patriots would win a rematch on a neutral field. This is about stats, scent, and sense.
Since we are upon our great day of gratitude, a pretext for gorging on poultry and then taking our swollen torsos to the nearest television for some football, let’s look to sports for reasons to give thanks.
Somewhere way on the right side of your globe, in the aorta of China, Manny Pacquiao will fight on Saturday, November 22.
There’s a contemporary push to place starting pitchers in the same realm as everyday players, which is confusing as it is annoying.
LeBron didn’t just join the Cleveland Cavaliers. He came to save the world, so to speak, to bring financial and spiritual lubricant to the Rust Belt, an area of America that has been lost to the the meat-hook realities of economics.