If you need to ask who Lance Armstrong is, try the next three-year-old who pedals by on a tricycle. If you want to know who Jan Ullrich, Ivan Basso and Roberto Heras are, ask the people chowing down on VeloNews veggie cakes and LeMond lemonade at the HandleBar & Grill…
As rain spits from a low gray sky one evening, Mike Bostwick, perhaps the best fly-caster in all of Colorado, stands by himself in Aurora’s Utah Park. An observer can tell it’s Mike Bostwick (he looks a little like Stalin, but much friendlier) because of his rugged-sportsman-looking shirt, on which…
He takes it. The gritty stoic wearing the dirty uniform and the tar-crusted batting helmet takes Kevin Brown’s 92-mile-an-hour fastball on the left forearm and, without so much as glancing back at the mound, takes his base. A week later, a wayward Pedro Astacio heater hits him flush in the…
Bizarre. Jerry Rice walks through the Broncos’ spring locker room, courteously introducing himself to teammates who were second-graders when he won the first of his three Super Bowl rings. It’s like Bruce Springsteen falling by to trade riffs with your kid’s garage band. Surreal. Rice announces, “Hi, I’m Jerry Rice”…
Chunk Foster graduated more than a decade ago from the University of Wyoming with a degree in communications, and when a friend jokingly recommended that they head to Florida to caddy for a season, he signed on without a second thought. It was just the sort of half-work, half-goof gig…
It had to compete for face time with the Indy 500, a Cubs-Rockies slugfest at Wrigley Field and the Memorial Day cookout in Uncle Elmer’s back yard. But the Colorado Crush’s first-ever home playoff game, against the San Jose SaberCats, drew a big enough (and loud enough) crowd Sunday afternoon…
Here’s a brainteaser for you and your mountain-biking buds to ponder over a bottle of Fat Tire after your latest single-track adventure: Is a mountain bike a machine? It’s not exactly the riddle of the Sphinx. But like many seemingly inane sports ponderables (how, exactly, did Carmelo get into bars…
Even staring-mad, orange-to-the-bone Broncos fans were snoozing through the third round of last month’s NFL draft when Mike Shanahan exploded a major bomb under their butts. Maurice Clarett! You gotta be kidding! Only a lunatic on crack would take a chance on the whiny, divisive ex-Ohio State running back. Talk…
Growing up in West Virginia, Anna Mead dreamed of being an Olympic swimmer. It wasn’t just a young girl’s fantasy, either. When she swam in meets — her specialty was the breaststroke — competitive coaches would approach her parents and ask about her plans. But at the age of thirteen,…
Have you noticed? They don’t have a last name between them. George, Karl, Doug and Moe sound like four hackers who take turns hitting it in the drink at Park Hill. But down at the Pepsi Center — you know, that big red thing where, once upon a time, a…
A strong weekend storm has just dumped a foot of wet spring snow on Denver — perfect weather for the New Siberians. By 8 a.m., e-mails are whipping back and forth between the City and County Building and the Wellington E. Webb Municipal Office Building, across the street. “It turns…
HELP WANTED: Tradition-rich athletic team seeks nineteen- or twenty-year-old American who can run like crazed jaguar for two solid hours. Must leap like Michael Jordan, kick leather like David Beckham, possess hand-eye skills of Champ Bailey. Awesome physique not essential, but uncommon courage required — job involves frequent collisions with…
On February 20, 2004, Julia Parsons nipped out from her job as a Vail real-estate agent for a quick bit of afternoon skiing on the local mountain. It’s one of her favorite things to do, a big reason she’d moved up to Vail from Denver six years earlier. Parsons hits…
On a Monday afternoon in early March, the Johnson & Wales University athletic department buzzed with activity. Tom Pancoe, assistant athletic director, sports information director and sole team trainer, shoved Ace wraps, bandages and athletic tape into a boxy black travel bag. “I have to call the airlines to make…
Another big-league baseball season is all but upon us, and the prelude is decorated with the usual fond hopes — even in Denver and Tampa. But the game seems more deeply troubled than ever. Players shooting steroids. Barry Bonds on the verge of murder at a press conference. The Damn…
A few years ago, I started to notice clumps of scruffy-looking young men loitering around the parking lot of my favorite snowboarding hill, Loveland. Their arrival was in synch with my departure: My weekend strategy had been to arrive early and then leave after four good hours, hoping to beat…
In the midst of the hip, the hop and the hype, the NBA All-Stars managed to shoot a little hoop over the weekend. As befits the Mile High City, some would say, most of it was above the rim. From the rookie-sophomore game on Friday night to the slam-dunk contest…
Then those Things ran about With big bumps, jumps and kicks And with hops and big thumps And all kinds of bad tricks. — The Cat in the Hat, by Dr. Seuss Just because you enjoy having guests doesn’t mean you have to invite everyone. Every organization has its Things…
George Karl, the Wizard of Westdenver, will get a little breather next weekend when the NBA All-Stars come to town. That’s because none of the delinquents in his just-founded reform school — not Carmelo Anthony, not Kenyon Martin, not Marcus Camby — got enough votes to earn a roster spot…
If you think of the four events of an all-around gymnastics competition as musical pieces, then the vault is a single, piercing high note that must be nailed without warmup. During the floor exercise, and on the uneven bars and balance beam, a gymnast has the opportunity to ease into…
Peter Forsberg’s in Sweden. Joe Sakic’s in limbo. The most inept commissioner in professional sports, Gary Bettman, is in dutch — with everyone from the wheat farmers in Bemidji to the guys who sell hot dogs at the Pepsi Center. In other words, the stars have been perfectly aligned this…
On a recent evening, Lori Bushere sweeps into the Sports Channel, a biker-friendly watering hole on West Colfax. She’s about twenty minutes late — her standard timing. She wears a dark, pinstriped business suit, steep heels, tall and teased ’80s hair, long, elaborately painted nails and a deep mid-winter tan…
