Read This: Tiger, Talladega & November Rain
Running down some of the best writing of the day. Enjoy. Oh, and the cat? I have no idea.
From “The Amateur: Six Laps at Talladega Kicks Off Mustache Weekend,” Spencer Hall, SB Nation:
“Sound is obliterated by your surroundings, sight is limited to a tiny window in front of you, and all focus is directed to staying on track and following the line in front of you. A good comparison would be scuba diving at depth going 170 miles per hour. A better one would be going scuba diving at 170 miles per hour in a car full of roaring bees. How drivers do anything but avoid other drivers is beyond understanding, since at even higher speeds with more on the line they are prisoners of mechanical circumstance, half-blind conductors of forty bullet trains all running on the same track. I will never wonder why drivers wreck in NASCAR ever again. Instead, I will wonder why they don’t wreck on the first lap at speed every race.”
From “The Stakes at the Masters,” Will Leitch, New York:
“But Tiger will turn 35 this December: He’s running out of time. Nicklaus, perhaps the best late-in-life golfer of all time, won only six of his eighteen after his 34th birthday and never faced anything close to what Tiger is going through. His off-fairway life has already slowed down the way he plays golf, the activity he was put on this Earth to do. If Woods shocks everyone at Augusta, he’ll be well on his way to beating Nicklaus and proving himself the greatest golfer ever. But you can’t help but wonder if Nicklaus, who has always revered his record, secretly wonders if he might have dodged a bullet.
From “In which we learn that all Dominican baseball players are gay,” Drew Magary, Deadspin:
“Any time I’m driving behind an empty car carrier, I have the manic urge to see if I can drive ONTO the truck itself. The ramp is so tantalizingly close to the ground. I always see myself having to speed up to get onto the ramp, then immediately having to brake to keep from driving 80 while on the truck itself. Then I get out of the car, climb to the top level of the carrier, take out a guitar, and fucking blast the solo from “November Rain.” And I don’t even LIKE that song.”
Hey, if you’ve seen something particularly good (or particularly bad), drop me a line at email@example.com, won’t you?