We're so happy to announce that we'll be celebrating the [...]
As a native Clevelander, my loathing of Chicago sports began somewhere in Chicagoland while visiting a traitorous childhood friend who adopted the Bulls after moving there in the early 1990s. By then, Michael Jordan had sunk "The Shot" to eliminate the Cleveland Cavaliers from the 1989 playoffs.
In the thickening gloom, a small ray of light -- or two, [...]
Game Seven of the World Series is more myth than reality. I would estimate that my friends and I, in games of wiffleball or whatever in our parents’ backyards on Cleveland’s suburban west side, probably played in "Game Seven of the World Series" maybe fifty more times than the event has taken place in the history of Major League Baseball. (For the record, this year’s is just the thirty-seventh.)
Our baseball coverage may not have a deep bench, but what [...]
Edward McClelland's How To Speak Midwestern is due back from [...]
I wasn’t having any of it. My mother brought my older sister and me to Chapel Hill Mall each year to visit with Archie the Talking Snowman. But I wasn’t fooled. Snowmen don’t talk, and I didn’t trust the disembodied voice that floated from above.
This is the book I wish existed when I moved to Buffalo. It’s a book for long-time residents who want to spend a few minutes or an afternoon thinking about their city. It’s for those who’ve moved away but still feel nostalgic when they get a whiff of Cheerios or see a towering elm or watch the Bills fumble in the end zone.
On a balmy Friday afternoon, I’m nervously careening through downtown Akron without my GPS, trying to prove I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the “330.”
My “jagoff” heart was warmed on Friday when it was announced that that very word would henceforth be included in the esteemed Oxford English Dictionary.
There’d better be a blimp in here. Seriously: if there is not a blimp in this book, I’m going to return it to the library I stole it from. Right now, I’m like you, Dear Reader. I haven’t read this book yet. I don’t know what’s in it. We’re both here at the beginning. I know what I want. You know what you want.
Two weeks ago an article started making the social media rounds in Cleveland and beyond -- a Belt article, about the curious online text that marked the west-side gazebo where 12-year-old Tamir Rice was shot and killed in 2014.