DOING IT TO DEATH.

A DISCUSSION OF THE SPORTING LYFE.

[thespacejams]

[doingittodeath]

This tumblr is 4 years old so I put some tunes over this Born Ready mixtape.

[upnorthtrips]

Happy 57th, King.

[nbadoppelgangers]

Kendrick Perkins | Gordon the Big Engine

[doingittodeath]

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT A WALCOTT

special guest appearance by Wallace Stevens

1.

Among twenty sinewy Britons

The only moving thing

Was the eye of the Walcott

2.

I was of three minds,

Like a formation

In which there are three Walcotts.

3.

The Walcott offside in the autumn winds.

It was a small part of the pantomime.

4.

A man and a Wenger

Are one.

A man and a Wenger and a Walcott

Are one.

5.

I do not know which to prefer

The beauty of inflections

Or the beauty of innuendoes.

The Walcott dribbling

Or just after.

6.

Icicles filled the long window

With barbaric glass

The shadow of the Walcott

Brought on too early.

The mood

Traced in the shadow

An indecipherable cause.

7.

O thin men of London,

Why to do you imagine golden goals?

Do you not see how the Walcott

Walks it in

to the goal about you?

8.

I know noble trophies

And lucid, inescapable fixtures;

But I know, too,

That the Walcott is involved

In what I know.

9.

When the Walcott flew out of sight,

It marked the edge

Of one of many boxes.

10.

At the sight of Walcott

Streaking down the right flank,

Even the bawds of euphony

Would cry out sharply.

11.

He rode over Chelsea

In a glass coach.

Once, a fear van Pierced him,

In that he mistook

The shadow of his equipage

For Walcott.

12.

The goalie is moving.

The Walcott must be flying.

13.

It was evening all afternoon.

It was snowing

And it was going to snow.

The Walcott scored

Off the corner-kick.

[netscapeshawty]

where is chris douglas roberts

[doingittodeath]

The Last Shot

(an original piece by B.W.)

For a little while, he kept his eyes shut tight in the dark, hoping that sleep would come because there was nothing else to do. Eventually he just gave up, went into the little hotel minibar and cracked open a little bottle of Jameson. Everything feels tiny when you’re seven feet. He drank the thing in one gulp. Fuck it, he thought, don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. He realized that he only had himself to negotiate with. Involuntarily checked his phone. Waiting to hear back from someone. Tony was probably out at the club, he was still young in that way, and Manu had Marianela to absorb the blow. He thought about Amy for a second, then he put the phone back down on the bedside table.

He gingerly ambled into the bathroom in a manner befitting a thirty-seven year old in a young man's profession. Took a look at himself in the mirror, framed by those movie-star-dressing-room round bulb lights. The scraggly beard hairs now flecked with silver. Getting old just creeps into you, he thought. One day and it's just there, and you never get to go back.

He could see the last play again. He was set up in the post just like he wanted. Made his move and saw the basket just like a million other times. The orange of the rim, the white of the net, the corresponding symmetry of the painted square on the backboard. This time it just rolled out, bounced off, every which way but down. Ping, bang, bong. There were a hundred other things that happened that led to the result but the last thing is all anyone remembers.

He knew he had won enough, there was plenty of triumph already. In some way that made it worse. Knowing that they would still love him, that the legacy was still intact, this night a minor blip on an otherwise unimpeachable career. Mistakes slowly diminishing over time. He wanted it to matter there, at that moment, in the hotel room. For someone to just be mad at him, right there, to be truly and viscerally angry at him. He knew he was asking too much.

He slowly rubbed the fading circles around his eyes before flicking the bathroom light off, lurching through the stillness of the room, back towards the California king and the hope of rest, silence, and end to the day. He heard the muffled thud of a firecracker going off somewhere outside. He knew it was for him. One city celebrates while another sits on its hands, waiting for next year. That was all he had, at that moment, is the knowledge that there would be a next year, and the hope that maybe next year he would reach the summit. The ounce of hope was enough, and within a few minutes he finally succumbed to sleep.

[nba]

[doingittodeath]

Doing It To Death #2

Pending jams for pending summer. 

[doublescribble]

Chris Edser

“Contributions to Basketball” 12”x16” Archival Print (Framed) $120

If you’re interested in purchasing this piece please contact Voltage Coffee & Art:

Email: lucy[at]voltagecoffee.com Phone: [phone]

[thespacejams]

[doingittodeath]

"Herein lies the central flaw of the Embrace Debate ethos: it’s not actually debate. It’s the creation of false binaries and the funnelling of dopey opinions through exceedingly narrow passageways. It’s 'Who Ya Got?' and tactless iconoclasm. Its structure is rigid and requires its participants to stand at one pole or the other, never anywhere near the middle, and so it excludes questions that have more than two or three rote answers. Worst of all, it supposes sports are not interesting enough on their own, that viewers, readers, and listeners won’t stick around if the opinions aren’t extreme enough. It assumes sports talk needs all sorts of additives: play-acting, hyperbole, and, yes, schtick. It sees sports—and specifically sports fandom—only as tribalism, and that’s depressing, especially since the approach is apparently lucrative as hell."

[upnorthtrips]

FACES: Rasheed Wallace

[doingittodeath]

This one really gives you an appreciation for what a magnificent athlete LeBron is. Have a great summer, Bucks. K.I.T.

[damiantrillard]

[netscapeshawty]

shooters round me

[doingittodeath]

Steph Curry puttin in work young.

[doingittodeath]

[netscapeshawty]