@marcusjiles

   N ASCAR was my first sport, my first love. Before I ever witnessed the gladiators on the football field, or the giants on the hardwood through my television screen, too many cars going circles for hours was my shit on Sunday afternoons. The precision of the drivers demanded by each track, the intensity of a close race in the final laps. I was even a fan of qualifying on Friday afternoons – who was the fastest straight up? But as a youngin, I often noticed there was no one that looked like me in the starting field in most of NASCAR’s leagues. The only driver at the time I had any emotional connection to was Jeff Gordon. We were both born in Vallejo, and he’s had the best paint scheme s in the history of motorsports… and paint schemes. Plus he was winning everything in the late 90’s, so it was easy to jump aboard the bandwagon. But how long would I have to wait for a driver that was any type of minority to root for in NASCAR?  NASCAR has long operated in a space that is free

“’What’s this show about?’ ‘It’s about two Jewish girls living in New York City...’” First time I was ever introduced to Broad City, I was sitting on a couch with two people roller coasting funky concoctions of drinks and enjoying copious bong hits. I don’t smoke or drink so it felt mostly like the TV was turned on just to keep me entertained, and I so was. Three episodes in, I found myself screaming “YAS QUEEN!” and wishing so desperately for Abbi Abrams to be promoted to trainer. In a span of just over an hour, I was emotionally invested into the characters, and physically hurting from laughing so hard. How had I been missing this? From the first televised episode to the last, Broad City is hilarious. You can stop reading now, create your Hulu account, watch seasons 1-3 and die happy and fulfilled. But I implore you to keep reading. What quickly becomes clear in the show's dynamic is the cadence and chemistry that has been perfected between its stars Ilana Glazer and

It’s finally (almost) here.  This clown-show, crude circus centered around two megastars that’s been touring the country for the last three months comes to its final stop and derails itself on the Las Vegas Strip tonight. Months before we knew the date we only had the idea of what this could be. It’s the culmination of two egos that are as large as the check each will be receiving whenever the final bell tolls. Its black vs white, boxing vs MMA, one bad guy vs another bad guy. There’s no protagonist here and that’s okay. Both Floyd Mayweather and Conor McGregor have chosen to fight each other tonight for our entertainment, to provide us with a fun and if you're a mark, expensive Saturday night. On its bare hind, it’s a super fight in Vegas on a in preseason football purgatory that is the month of August. It’s an easy sell, but how did we get here?  Very simply put, this seems like the evolution of the UFC of sorts into the new WWE (or WWF reprise). A world where combat

Often in sports, the commentary birthed from the final whistle brings to life monikers fat of nostalgia and born free of perspective. Sports talk stations around the country have featured nauseating conjecture on which athletes get to be greater than the next as well as the games they play in. Athletes over their careers give us numbers to use as how to place them in the sports hierarchy. Those debates are filled with the shouting of statistics usually lacking any level of proper context. Half the time there’s no right answer, but how do you actually define a game worthy of being labeled “greatest of all time”? Sports are entertainment full of soap opera histrionics - if they entertain even a single soul, is that game to be considered or does it need specific identifiers and characteristics? Does it need the buzzer-beater endings or the tired David vs Goliath storyline to begin its rise to game GOAT hall of fame? If a game deemed as great lacks a large national audience is it sim