This time of year arrives and Buddy Gouldsmith takes a stroll across hot coals, a tradition becoming more and more hazardous with UNLV’s latest losing baseball season.
Sports Columns
Five seconds. Maybe.
There are two chances of seeing a bid for the Triple Crown this year: slim and none. No one I know picked Mine That Bird to win the Kentucky Derby, and only a couple of redboarders after the race insist they liked him.
You can sugarcoat certain things in life. How you answer that question from your significant other about her weight. Cheering your child’s few perfect notes among all the missed ones at the piano recital. Faking confidence when telling your employees about the company’s financial stability.
Guess we’ll see what the judge has to say.”
Damn unknown. It always feeds our worst fears. It has this way of appearing at the most unfair times. Kayla Griffith knows of it, and it frightens her.
It would be easier if you could just go George Costanza on a hitter and throw the opposite of what you believe to be the best pitch. But baseball doesn’t work that way.
His father won an AFC Championship with the New England Patriots and yet he has seen the commemorative ring twice. It might be just once. No one thinks about it all that much.
Glen Gulutzan is in his sixth season as Wranglers coach and has directed the hockey team to a second consecutive conference final. He produced three 100-point seasons between 2005 and 2007, the first ECHL team to accomplish such a feat.
The plot for the second jewel of the Triple Crown just got thicker with the private purchase of Kentucky Oaks winner Rachel Alexandra by Jess Jackson of Stonestreet Stables.
If times are tough and a moment of amusement is needed, keep your ears open. At some point, you are going to encounter a person who believes baseball’s steroids era is over.
After reading last week’s edition of ”In the Outdoors,” in which Mike O’Donnell of the Nevada Striper Club shared a few Lake Mead fishing tips, reader Robert Gunny wrote in with a few tips of his own.
One e-mail was followed by five. Same with voice messages. It has been a small but steady flow of complaints since the first major league pitch was thrown this season.
There was a time the past few decades when you might have thought of him as Waldo, the character in a children’s book series hidden among hundreds of tiny people doing various things. But he was rarely lost. Not like before anyway. Not like the two years he spent in hell.
Bernard Hopkins says to disregard Manny Pacquiao’s destruction of Oscar De La Hoya. Forget it. Throw it out. Never happened.