For decades, writers endlessly entranced with the romance of sports gave Sports Illustrated its distinct acumen. Clickbait and search engine optimized content is its cursed offspring.
At times, “i, i” feels a lot like staring into a bucket of water and oil—all color and chrome, flashing and changing color haphazardly by the glint of the sun. It’s mesmerizing but unnatural.
The free agency of the Fun Guy has ushered in a new mutation of James’ player empowerment era, dramatically changing the way NBA front offices look to construct their teams.
In the parks that have long been framed as the pride and joy of “The Land of the Free,” one writer discovered that he can buy a $320 hotel room, and a $15 hot dog, from a single mega-conglomerate.