Barry Petchesky

A thing about Yankees fans is that they share a single, metaphysical consciousness. This Highlander-type immortal marches in both the Columbus Day and Dominican Day parades, thinks it’s a bargain to drink so many $11 Coronas at Stan’s before a game that he never makes it through the gates, and has really strong opinions about […]

Thousands of Dubliners showed up for the city’s much-anticipated Halloween parade on Thursday evening. They lined the streets from Parnell Street to Christchurch Cathedral, waiting for the promised three-hour parade that would “[transform] Dublin into a lively tapestry of costumes, artistic performances, and cultural festivities.” A likely story. There was no parade, and never was […]

It doesn't appear to have been close. Georgia flipped for Trump. Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, too. The Blue Wall crumbled like Jericho's.

A big, dense ball of gas that has fascinated mankind since the dawn of time, Jerry Jones is forever coming up with new ways to innovate in the field of sabotaging his own team. Not content with letting paying customers watch Cowboys players poop , Jones has perfected a unique method of neutralizing players: blinding them with the awesome power of the Sun itself. Supervillain shit.

The first thing I thought when I saw the big pigeon was I wish I didn’t know the big pigeon was here. Oh, I was plenty charmed. It’s a hyperrealistic, 16-foot aluminum pigeon—like pizza, the basic idea is good enough that I’m not really sure there’s any version of the execution that wouldn’t have satisfied […]

Tuesday's game marked a measuring stick of sorts for both teams. The Jets, coming in with an NHL-record 14-1-0 start to their season, sought to keep the train rolling against one of the East's contenders. The Rangers, with functionally the same roster as the one that won the Presidents' Trophy a year ago, hoped to prove they're in the same league as the NHL's best. It was a fun one, a back-and-forth 6-3 Jets victory in which Winnipeg showed conclusively they're a cut above, playing relentless, mistake-free hockey behind

It can be easy, as a sports fan and a blogger, to focus on the times players and teams screw up. Easy, and satisfying too. And hilarious. Oh man, when a guy really biffs it? Has a total brain-fart and all you can do is laugh and say

If you'd asked me 20 years ago, I would have said confidently that Wayne Gretzky's NHL record of 894 career goals was unbreakable. It was a curio to be admired, not a number to be chased; like Cy Young's 511 wins, it came from a different era, almost a different sport entirely. If you'd asked me one year ago, when Alex Ovechkin was scuffling with five goals, which is all he'd still have even a month later, I'd have considered the chase a tragicomedy—an ancient Ovi, looking so washed up he should be talking to a volleyball, puttering his way through sad season after sad season, long after he should have retired, making his team worse. It would have been awful; it would have lessened both the record and Ovechkin's career.

Three hours before kickoff, the Cowboys opened their retractable roof so that God Himself could look down on his creation and recoil in horror. It was a majestic display; that whirring may as well have been the hum of the clockwork of the universe itself.

In honor of today's release of the major motion picture and guaranteed box office smash Wicked , here is my non-exhaustive ranking of the types of gladiator.