LESAProject

Often—too often, perhaps—is the sports field compared to the battlefield. To a certain extent, the analogy is accurate. Soldiers and football players alike operate largely on adrenaline; blood, sweat, and tears have their places on each field; immense pressure is placed on both sets of men to win—the thought of losing dare not enter their minds; and intense physical training is undertaken to become fit for either. However, that is where the similarities end, for the two differ greatly in their general purpose: that is to say, murder has no place in sport. Today—the 91st anniversary of the end of World War I—this ...

Pain and pleasure are two of the most basic sensations known to man; but as with so many other things, humans have managed to make them massively more complicated than at first they would appear. Pleasure itself takes many forms, most of which are exceedingly simple (contrary to the ethos of the consumer-based society we live in). There is that fondness and affection for young children, usually accompanied by the pure, unadulterated joy of hearing a child's laughter. The satisfaction of a job well-done, particularly when pain was endured to get it to that state of perfection; the sheer relief of a successful endeavour; that enveloping moment of bliss when ...

I, you, me, he, she, it, they, we, us. The English language is littered with pronouns. They are a necessary compartment to everything we say, everything we write. Except in science. Perhaps it is not the same everywhere—but when reporting on an experiment at my school, one must refrain from using personal pronouns. For example, one would say, "The water was poured" rather than "I poured the water," or risk losing a mark. Very occasionally, I wonder if the same system should apply to sportswriting. Or is the personal aspect what sets it apart from other forms of journalism? Globalization, and the loss of the personal touch, is ...

I, you, me, he, she, it, they, we, us. The English language is littered with pronouns. They are a necessary compartment to everything we say, everything we write. Except in science. Perhaps it is not the same everywhere—but when reporting on an experiment at my school, one must refrain from using personal pronouns. For example, one would say, "The water was poured" rather than "I poured the water," or risk losing a mark. Very occasionally, I wonder if the same system should apply to sportswriting. Or is the personal aspect what sets it apart from other forms of journalism? Globalization, and the loss of the personal touch, is ...

I would like to thank Blaine Spence, Rocky Getters, and Leroy Watson for helping me with this article.   I doubt there are many people who would disagree with this statement: The world is in a gloomy state. Dishonest, sleazy politicians left, right, and centre; news stations constantly screaming at us to PANIIIIIIIIIIC!!!, and it doesn't matter what about—be it the economic recession (which will recover), the swine flu pandemic (which is relatively mild, all things considered), or the number of lost puppies on the streets, it is an insignificant detail—just so long as we continue watching that particular station. Nothing like a bit of drama to ...

Sports, art and music; all have much in common. The drum roll of anticipation as the players wait for their moment to shine. The crescendo of the crowd's roar as they enter into the full view of the stadium. In tennis—the accented notes of winners, the articulated finesse of a drop shot, the jarring discordancy of an unforced error. The staccato of an overhead smash. The trill of suspense as the stadium holds its breath, waiting to see if the lob will land within the lines. The ostinato of a basketballer's ball-bounces—rhythmic and constant. The accelerando of a sprinter's feet, moving faster and ...

Sports, art and music; all have much in common. The drum roll of anticipation as the players wait for their moment to shine. The crescendo of the crowd's roar as they enter into the full view of the stadium. In tennis—the accented notes of winners, the articulated finesse of a drop shot, the jarring discordancy of an unforced error. The staccato of an overhead smash. The trill of suspense as the stadium holds its breath, waiting to see if the lob will land within the lines. The ostinato of a basketballer's ball-bounces—rhythmic and constant. The accelerando of a sprinter's feet, moving faster and ...