Oxford got so screwed.

The Offensive Quality Control Coordinator scratches his crotch, spits onto the turf. “This is some poor quality football,” he says, the sweat on the green brim of his Eagles cap darkening. “Some poor damn quality football.”

Tried to read. Remembered that caps lock is no replacement for good writing, especially from someone who can and does often write well. Quit.

My ballot read: “You fools, a gold balloon will not fly!”

Brilliant catch, yes, but the gloves might as well be leather-aligned-magnetic-molasses.

Mr. Sanchez is impressed.

See, this is my problem with basketball nowadays: obvious travelling. In my day, we could only pick up and carry an opponent for a single step before putting him down.

Kinda feel like this post is contrarian for contrarianism’s sake.

Wait, Liverpool beat them but the game ended 2-2? Man, I don’t get soccer.

Get over yourselves, please. (Though I love the Gawker-Grey=Nay elitism.)

Five hundred years ago, proponents of the germ theory of disease struggled to convince those who believed sickness spread via evil vapors.

This is an article? Wouldn’t 20 minutes of Hamster Dance been equivalent?

I can’t be the only person to read his (alleged) rap sheet and think, “Wait? Someone actually carded a pro athlete?”

My thoughts exactly

I know last season the University of New Hampshire (FCS) got national attention for doing helmetless tackling drills, so you’re on to something

I would like to thank the deadspin and gawker staves for having their Furguson-like focus on the human tragedy in aparis. This post is an exemplar of the depth of humanity in Gawker Central.

An interesting article. A shamelessly center-left organization obfuscates reality to its own ends. Surprise, surprise.

Commentate?

5th graph. missing letter at end of sentence.

Apropos this kerfuffle: when did it become acceptable to have a reporter who was an “insider?” Doesn’t the term itself imply heavily that the so-called reporter is compromised by their relationship to the industry? I mean, if I wanted to know what Robert Kraft wanted me to know, I’d just ask Robert Kraft. Instead we…