Comments on: I Guess I Shouldn’t Be Surprised: Marion Jones Joins the Heartbreaker Club

By: Retro Sneakers

Retro Sneakers — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 01:41:17 +0000

I think Nike’s are going to the retro look now for the more casual crowd. Their athletic line is ugly, but I like the retro looking ones.

By: George J. Mitchell

George J. Mitchell — Mon, 08 Oct 2007 21:11:26 +0000

Lance Pharmstrong is biggest drug cheat of all. Corticoids, insulin, EPO, RSR-13 and cow blood from Norway all whilst lying to cancer patients to market $300 Nike sneakers.

Nike knows dopers. From Marion, Baroid, Giambi, Kobe, Justin Gatlin, Kelli White, Mike Vick, Regina Jacobs, LaTasha Jenkins, Tim Montgomery, Tori Edwards, Ivan Basso to Lance and a Cancer/Nike deception.

Lance’s doping denials fueled the end for TV-based cycling—-post Festina.

By: Bell

Bell — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 23:32:55 +0000

I totally hear you. My first idols as a kid were olympic athletes, and then came Marion Jones, who won the 2000 medals while I was still in college, where I ran track and field. I looked up to her, and now I feel more sorry for her than anything. If she had gone through her career winning bronze or even 7th place in those events she’d leave such a better legacy than what has happened. I guess that is what I can take from her experience.

By: stephalopoulos

stephalopoulos — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 03:39:55 +0000

You’re right about Damon, you know. Seriously. Being a traitor the way he was is just as bad as being a traitor to your body with all of that doping shit.

I’m not a big sports fan, but I love them Sox. Even being the girl with no cable on her TV, money that has to go to too many things other than Sox tickets, and an intense agoraphobia that keeps her really fucking far away from Fenway, being a Bostonian it’s really fucking hard to not be a Sox fan.

And this is coming from a Bostonian who was raised in NJ–where people liked the Mets, the Phillies, and the Yankees (but really, I mean REALLY–everyone liked the Yankees). When I go home to New Jersey, the one thing that never finds its way into my little green weekend bag is my Sox hat. I’d get pummeled.

One of my friends said that Damon had to go–his career was getting too big, and the Sox are a great ‘development’ team for someone who’s on his way to great things–but whether or not he had to go, whether or not it was ‘his time’ to move on–he did not have to sell his soul and cut off his hair like that. He did not need to splatter everyone’s heart against a cement wall the way he did when he signed with the Yanks.

But now we’re in Post-Season. We have a good team, great spirit, great cheerleaders from inside Fenway and from small corners of the outlying parts of the cities, including one short Greek girl’s safe, comfortable little apartment that has a TV made for watching movies and not ready to watch the games. There’s no god for me to believe in, but there are the Sox and there is this city I live in. And there are these people who put honest grit, heart, and elbow-grease into all that they believe in every single fucking moment they wear their Sox hats and cheer their boys on.

It’s October. Has your heart landed in Boston yet?