January 2010
01/29/10Grading the Penguins and Making Fun of Small ChildrenTrue story: I was a little brainiac as a kid. Thing is, I never read books. I could only stomach the painstaking alliterations of Dr. Seuss if it was read aloud to me. In fact, I was not intelligent in any measurable, traditional sense. Instead, I was “blue-collar Catholic smart.” I absorbed all knowledge through countless hours of television and learned to read by scouring the information section on the back of hockey cards. This behavior pissed off my family members to no end, because they would buy me Beatrix Potter books for Christmas that I would proceed to use as coasters for my sippy cups. (Note: in later years, just substitute Potter for Fyodor Dostoevsky and Juicy Juice for Guinness and nary a thing has changed.) More like Infinite... |
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01/18/10A Bunch of Borscht: The Sabotage of E. MalkinLess than a year ago, Pittsburgh sports journalists were tripping over one another for interviews with Vladimir and Natalia Malkin – the proud parents of Penguins superstar Evgeni Malkin. You couldn’t turn on the TV or flip through the Sunday paper without running into a feel-good story about Mrs. Malkin’s famous borscht soup (Evgeni’s favorite pre-game meal) or a harrowing re-telling of Evgeni’s secret midnight escape to America from the shackles of his former Russian team in 2006. In 2009, “Geno” Malkin was the undisputed king of SOFT NEWS in the Steel City – a territory usually dominated by orphaned puppies and clips of Little League coaches getting pelted in the groin with errant baseballs. After winning the Stanley Cup... |
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01/14/10A Eulogy for the 2009 Pittsburgh SteelersI know that feeling you were feeling. All of Steelers Nation felt it. What feeling, you ask? The feeling I am referring to is the twinge of incalculable pain and immeasurable sadness that you, fine Pittsburgher, felt this past Sunday as you watched the Baltimore Ravens trample over the carcass of the New England Patriots’ dynasty, then proceed to characteristically hoot and holler at the television cameras about their Wild Card success. It was like being kicked in the shin by a third grader. Unfortunately, no amount of pillow punching and/or hard drinking could remedy the seething toothache pain brought on by Ray Lewis — pork pie hat tipped over his eyes — praising the work of his teammates at the post-game podium with the kind of canned,... |
Jack Lambert. Iron City. Sophie Masloff. Civic Arena nachos.
