Big girls, little guys, lots of fun.
Gay porn star Michael Brandon goes from meth addict to anti-drug crusader--and back.
Llewellyn Werner thinks a few half-pipes could get Baghdad's economy rolling.
For all those reasons, I'll miss Nellie. He was a fine coach--one of the best in NBA history--and a hoot to cover. He is gregarious and funny and, most of the time, a pleasure to be around. But he is also shrewd--the rare coach who has a handle on the politics and the planning that are the ancillary requirements of being an NBA front man. There just aren't too many like him, and it's a damn shame to see him go.
But, to be honest, this column isn't about that. This column is about the truth. The truth is, Nellie's resignation sent me dancing into the streets with an overwhelming sense of self-worth and joy. I get a lot of stories wrong, but this one I got right. So I sent Shore and Garcia an e-mail demanding an apology and reparations. I consider both of them buddies (truly), so it vexes me to see them so thoroughly discredited in this space. I told them so in my e-mail. The correspondence went like this:
Na na na na na.