Chilling. That's the only way to describe Michael Vick's 23 month sentence for admitting he bankrolled the "Bad Newz Kennels" dogfighting operation and helped kill the dogs that couldn't perform.

Washington football player Sean Taylor is dead at the age of 24, shot and killed at home in front of his partner and 18-month-old daughter. Four people have already been arrested, three of them teenagers.

Barry Lamar Bonds faces thirty years in prison because the Department of Justice is a corroded husk of political decay. The baseball Home Run King has now been officially indicted on perjury and obstruction of justice charges.

Jason "Big Sexy" Whitlock has told me to "mind own damn business" when it comes to his mission to lead a new Civil Rights movement against "Black idiots." But whether you are talking about Whitlock or someone hanging a noose on a tree, there is a problem when you say, "Just ignore it and it will go away."

On September 26, 2007 at Hangzhou, China a revolution was born that would shake the world—a revolution in the world of Fútbol, commonly known in North America as “soccer.”

There's an old cliché that the most popular college football team in the United States is whoever plays Notre Dame.

Let's get this out of the way early: I don't support the fighting of dogs. I am not sitting here in a Michael Vick jersey snacking on Labrador fajitas thinking that his 12 month plea bargain is the greatest injustice since Sacco and Vanzetti.

Minneapolis-Saint Paul is the last place on earth I would have expected a "structurally deficient bridge" to collapse, but it happened. As sure as the levees broke in New Orleans, the bridge is no more.

We the undersigned are shocked that the state of Texas aims to execute Kenneth on August 31 for the "crime" of driving a car. His 10-year-old daughter will live without a father because of a law obscene in its existence, and repellent in it's application.

Pity the poor soul that sets to write a great sports novel. It can feel like trying to train a goldfish to fetch. Sisyphus might find pushing that rock up the hill a more fruitful task.

As a former public school teacher in Washington, I heard this cliche from countless bureaucrats. It was code for "Stop whining about ancient textbooks and prehistoric classroom materials, because there is no money."

Before all the NBA oxygen is inhaled by this week’s draft; before our days are dedicated to debates about whether Greg Oden or Kevin Durant is the true superstar of the 2007 cattle call.

As the San Francisco Giants slugger approaches Henry Aaron’s record for career homers, this probability seems to be turning otherwise rational people upside down, as Bonds has encountered an almost surreal level of hostility.

Kevin Cooper is a sports fan. Kevin Cooper loves the Steelers. Kevin Cooper makes his home on death row at the notorious San Quentin Penitentiary in California. Cooper awaits execution for a crime many observers are convinced he did not commit.

Anybody got $500 million collecting dust under the couch? If you live in Chicago, take a second look between those cushions. The United States Olympic Committee (USOC) has let it be known that the people of the Windy City could pay out as much as $500 million if they are awarded the 2016 Summer Games.

There are more books about Muhammad Ali than Abe Lincoln: 300 titles in the children's section alone. You can also purchase The Muhammad Ali Reader, the Tao of Muhammad Ali, or the $10,000 G.O.A.T. - a massive coffee table book about all things Ali that is slightly larger than a typical coffee table.

Bowie Kuhn, baseball's fifth commissioner, passed away last night at the age of 80. I never met the man. In private, he may have made Gandhi look like Ted Nugent.

Sunday night's Super Bowl was a Roman Vomitorium of odious spew. This wasn't the good, the bad, and the ugly. It was the dreary, the vile, and the insipid made only palatable by the thought of Mike Ditka in a dark bar drinking whiskey shots, chased with the salty discharge humans call tears.

My man Kevin who lives in Raleigh left a message on my answering machine late Sunday night, “Hey Chris what’s up, sorry I missed your call. We finally gonna have a Black coach win the Super Bowl, that’s my prediction.” Of course by now that’s pretty much everyone’s prediction.

Fierce armor-clad gladiators applying wicked hits, battering each other relentlessly, engaging in bone-jarring collisions, and performing feats of near super-human athleticism….