Those of us on The Crimson’s sports board feel the same way about Yale football coach Tom Williams as Boston Red Sox fans feel about the Yankees’ closer, Mariano Rivera. We hate the team, but we respect the man.
Harvard sucks. In an informal poll of 3.5 people (one of the ladies polled was pregnant), 100 percent of people overwhelmingly agreed with that assessment. In fact, Harvard agreed with that assessment when Cantab fans held up red and white placards to spell “WE SUCK” in 2004.
For the first time in a long time, the campus has been swept up in a frenzy of activity and anticipation. No, it’s not the long-awaited swine flu vaccine. It’s The Game 2009.
Growing up as a young, hyperactive kid, playing a sport like tennis did not immediately appeal to me. That is, until I went racket shopping and found the flashy orange-and-black T.I. Radical, the signature model of Andre Agassi.
What does betrayal feel like? Just ask the entire state of Wisconsin.
I hate change. Things are different after a change. Change tends to scare me. Which is why I love the NBA.
There is a long-standing tradition at Yale when it comes to athletics. No, it’s not the fact that our football team still has the most national championships of any Division I school. No, it’s not Handsome Dan, who unfortunately has seemed to be replaced lately by an overly muscular, costumed human counterpart. No, it’s definitely not the fight songs. (Did you know there...
The World Series has not gone a full seven games since the Angels beat Barry Bonds and the Giants in 2002. In fact, of the last five Series, there have been three sweeps, and the other two were won in just five games.
A fortune cookie once told me: “Appreciate the small things in life.” It then gave me the lotto numbers and the Chinese word for dog, gou. But that’s not what today’s column is about.
The biggest game-changer, so to speak, for an unsuccessful franchise can be a superstar quarterback.
The occasional aggressive play will keep the Bulldogs unpredictable and Lehigh, their opponent honest; this benefits all facets of the offense. Since Saturday’s game will not affect the Ivy League standings, Yale may want to experiment with new plays and personnel.
As an athlete growing up in Texas, I thought I had tried almost every sport there was before deciding on softball.
While I personally held no stock in Chicago’s 2016 Olympic bid, I couldn’t help but feel a twang of patriotic disappointment when Rio was announced as the host city.
In the sports context, desertion is one of the most egregious things a sports fan can do. What is sports desertion, you ask? It’s leaving a game, for no good reason other than saying “oh, I think I have a lot of work, I should go home” BEFORE the game is over! It makes no sense, gives the opposing team a sense of accomplishment, and delivers a swift kick in the gut to...
Even the most defense-dependent, run-oriented teams have had to evolve to survive in the new NFL. Without a dynamic passing game that spreads the defense out and racks up points, a team cannot compete week in and week out in today’s NFL.
It’s safe to say we’re all painfully aware of the setback suffered by our football team this weekend. What might have been a glittering home debut for the energetic and enthusiastic new face of Yale football, coach Tom Williams’ first home game, was tarnished at the hands of a despised Cornell team. Yet perhaps overlooked by the disappointment in the loss was a shining...
The light of autumn falls on our fields where dreams grow not of harvest but of beating Harvard. Regardless of the victor of The Game (and that sentiment won’t be expressed again), football has won, its victory sweeping from the painted water tower enthusiasm of rural America to the highest pinnacles of our ivory towers.
Last Saturday, I experienced one of the five worst feelings I’ve ever felt in my life. No, my dog didn’t die. No, my girlfriend didn’t break up with me. No, I didn’t just realize that I don’t actually have a girlfriend. No, my friends, what I felt was significantly worse than that. I felt sports guilt.
