The premise is simple. Every week I'll dig through some of ESPN.com columnist Rick Reilly's "work," find a column with his patented recycled cliches and blather and then post the relevant snippets on my blog.
Finding a Reilly hack-job shouldn't be too difficult, as his writing hasn't been informative or analytical since the latter part of the Clinton Administration. Finding a crappy Reilly column these days is like spotting a whore during spring break: they're everywhere. And furthermore, I don't want to limit this feature exclusively to his ESPN.com writing. We have thousands upon thousands of mailed in Sports Illustrated columns to choose from, and I for one would be disappointed if they were overlooked.
So for our first edition of the Rick Reilly Mailed in Column of The Week, we'll travel back to April of 1998 -- back when our President was a philanderer, back when steroids were being passed around MLB clubhouses like Big League Chew, and back when Carson Daly was considered cool.
It's April of 1998, and Jack Nicklaus, at age 58, just shot a final round 68 on Masters Sunday.
Here's some of Reilly Column:
Couples kissed. Strangers hugged. Women in heels threw elbows for position. Fifty-eight-year-old Jack Nicklaus had just birdied the 15th hole on Sunday to get within two shots of the Masters lead, and all heaven was breaking loose.
And 12 years earlier, in 1986, here's what Reilly wrote about Jack's improbably come-from-behind victory to capture his 6th Green Jacket.
But as Sunday's round began, Nicklaus looked as if he was going to keep on doing what he had been doing, which was knocking the ball tight and putting loose. He missed four-footers at the 4th and the 6th, and when he got to the 9th tee, he was right where he started—two under. He was also five shots behind Norman.
Then, suddenly, all heaven broke loose.
How much do they pay this guy?
Carson Daly was never, NEVER cool. That's your first major gaffe of this blog, baby.
ReplyDelete