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As Smith notes, there has always been grumbling among old-school types about the 3-pointer — our dads and grandpas lamenting how those impudent youngsters only care about 3s and dunks, since those highlight plays get them on SportsCenter. But new, more nuanced concerns are starting to bubble up about the dominance of the 3-pointer. One strain centers on the consequences of the idea that math has basically solved basketball. Analytics has won out in shot selection. Just about everyone in the NBA, from scouts to head coaches to GMs, understands that long 2-point shots are bad and 3s are good. There is a strong correlation between 3-point attempts and team scoring efficiency, and an even more specific correlation between the number of short corner 3s a team attempts and its overall points per possession.
GLADWELL: Hold on. Paul to Hilton to Kardashian to … Johnny Carson! I just read the new book about him by his lawyer and confidant Henry Bushkin. It's really about what it means to have been a celebrity in the 1960s and 1970s, and reads like something from another century. So Bushkin tells the following story: Carson used to hang out at a bar run called Jilly's, on 52nd Street and Eighth Avenue in Manhattan, which was a big mob hangout. One night, Carson got very drunk and hit on an attractive woman at the bar who turns out, unfortunately, to be the girlfriend of a major Mafia guy.
Carson gets thrown down the stairs and escapes more serious injury only because "Jilly," who is everything the name "Jilly" would suggest, steps in. The mobster then puts a contract on Carson's life, who — terrified — holes up in his apartment and misses three consecutive shows. Desperate, NBC gets in touch with an agent at William Morris known to have an in with the mob, who brokers a deal with Joseph Colombo, the head of the Five Families, in which the contract is lifted in exchange for NBC agreeing to cover the Italian American unity rally on Columbus Day.
barcelona: the picasso of football brands. when i first saw a tease i was expecting some sort of technological innovation within the fabric but its just a branding exercise at this point.
so let me get this straight. you want to pay us a lot of money to market your brand by putting the logo on the inside of our uniforms where no one can see them except when they are doing the laundry? i think we can accomodate that.
But here is the thing about ACL tears: They're not just another injury. They are the Godzilla of injuries. They are painful beyond tolerance, they take eons to rehab, and they always leave a lingering doubt in the athlete's mind that he will ever be whole again. An ACL tear tests one's mettle. An ACL tear goes to the very heart of resilience and mental toughness. An ACL tear is the standard against which the athlete himself measures his determination. An ACL tear is the absolute limit.
Generation June is face-to-face with the realization that usually pushes people from the glittering hope of youth toward the dreary pragmatism of middle age: dreams don't always come true. In six months, they've lived an entire life cycle on fast forward, experiencing all the things that take aim at innocence, from fear to comfort, from cynicism to violence. "Here we have these students who are so full of hope that they can change the world," explains Julio Jeha, a university professor who marched against the dictatorship decades ago. "They are starry eyed. You look at them and think, 'Oh, my God, they don't know what they're up against.'"
guess im pretty far out of the loop since it took me two days before i caught wind of this play to end alabamas chance at a third straight ncaa championship, or at least that is what was suggested. i havent looked at the rankings. with the score tied at 28 alabama went for a 56 yard field goal at the end of regulation and, well, see for yourself.
took my first test drives today on bikes. wasnt planned but i was walking home and i just decided to pop my head in to the bike shop where ive got the last two that ive bought. had no intention of taking anything out for a spin but the sales girl was helpful and patient so i eventually took one out, then a second, a third and a fourth. one of the treks i tried had a slightly upscale model, the difference being that the tires where "puncture resistant." they had some sort of kevlar lining. in my head i weighed the potential advances versus the $100 upfront cost. we all know how this is gonna end, right? no way im gonna go for that even if down the road theres a chance it could all even out.
so the last bike i try is the cheapest at $400. its some specialized model with offroad tires that she says is popular with teenage boys. that wasnt a selling point. she was just throwing it out there. i take it out for the heavily traffic .9 miles suggested route through soho and as i turn the final corner headed for the store i feel what i think is a rock in the treads. turns out to be a screw thats well buried into the meat of the tire. i couldnt unscrew it with my hand at least not without considerable effort.
the girl was nowhere to be found upon my return and i eventually retrieved my credit card after waiting about five minutes. i debated whether to mention the screw to anyone else there but i was tired and had no intention of paying for the damage should it come to that. when i had waited long enough i decided to go, only to run into her outside. she had been at their other storefront in the next building over. i walked back in as she had printed up a list of the bikes i had tried at which point i showed her the insolent screw. she thanked me for the heads up and i left feeling..... hungry before recalling the irony of the kevlar tires i would still likely not purchase.
The way you know an Indy car means business is when you can hear it pushing wind before it, a whoosh just ahead of the engine's scream, and now down the front stretch you can hear it, this hurricane with a siren inside it, heralding the comeback of A.J. Foyt, and now there is a whooshwheeeeeeeYOW as he passes, the black Lola moving so fast that your eyes can't follow it smoothly; it sort of jumps and skips across your field of vision. When an Indy car starts to play that jump-skip trick on your eyes, the rule of thumb is that it's doing about 230 mph on the straight.30 And all that can harness all that fury safely is the centrifugal force of that sharp left turn into Indy's first corner.
On the lake a cutthroat trout breaks the surface; pieces of it follow him into the air. He breaks it again, falling back. The water mends itself in circles; the circles disappear. You could never say exactly where, but that’s how things mend; it’s how you get old, too. Not that they are necessarily different things. The place is quiet again. The sun has touched the lake, but the lake still belongs to the night. To the night and to the old man.