My name is not Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am 36 years old, exactly one year older than the Minnesota Timberwolves, and I live in Minneapolis with thousands of my brothers and sisters. I have often thought that with any luck at all we could see the Wolves parade down Nicollet Mall on a perfect early summer afternoon, because when I was six my dad took me to see Doug West and the T-Wolves beat the Charlotte Hornets and ever since then I’ve believed, but I’ve had to be content with what I have.
Read MoreI am never not listening to ‘One Shining Moment.’ I’m talking about the Luther Vandross version, of course. I don’t mean this literally. I don’t have a Spotify playlist setup to play the official March Madness anthem on repeat for all hours of the day. I mean this in a similar way…
Read MoreWe were winning 58-18. This would be a noteworthy scoreline in any circumstance. Up by 40 points in the fourth quarter against a crosstown foe and absolutely giving them the business.
Read MoreIt’s been a tough year to love football. I suppose it’s always difficult to grapple with the emotion of loving something as undeniably barbaric as America’s most popular sport, but justifying my love for football has been more challenging in these times than it ever has been.
Read MoreThe Under Review is dedicated to featuring local and national organizations with social justice, racial equality, and/or the fight against gender or LGBTQ+ disparity, who use sports, writing, or education as their main tool for empowerment and change. It is our honor and pleasure to offer our support to Minneapolis’s own Circle of Discipline with Center Court’s inaugural post.
Read MoreHow my mom and a utility infielder made me fall in love with baseball.
Read MoreDear Basketball has never not made me cry. You don't know me, but even if you did this wouldn't surprise you. I’m a natural crier. I cry while watching movies and reading books, through joy and through pain. My best and worst moments have this truth about me in common.
Read MoreLouisa Thomas is one of my favorite writers. She isn’t one of my favorite sports writers. She isn’t one of my favorite culture writers. She isn’t one of my favorite goddamnit-how-is-this-individual-so-spectacularly-talented-they-get-to-make-perfect-art-for-The-New-Yorker-for-a-living writers.
Read MoreHey readers,
Sup. It’s me, Terry. And I’m writing this post in celebration. Celebration that this week, these next few days, will be the final week in all of human history without a published issue of the Under Review in existence.
Hello dear reader. Thank you for being here. There are literally a billion other places you could be on the Internet right now and I think it’s pretty cool that out of all those places you are here with us, even if you’re here by mistake, possibly because you’re looking for the sports bar under this same name in Central Arizona. That’s cool, as long as you order a beer for me too. You’re still here, reading this post, and that’s what matters.
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