Author Archives: Pete Martin

If you read my columns in this paper, you might be surprised to find out I’ve been doing this for a long time. But I have. I’ve been a sports columnist since the end of ninth grade, when I decided I had something to say and someone decided he’d publish it for me. My entry »

I won’t make generalizations about “my generation,” so let me speak for myself. I have learned not to trust authority figures, at least those on the TV and in newspapers. I’ve grown up in a time when public figures are routinely dishonest. Outright lies and extraordinary secrecy have regularly made headlines in the 21st century. »

It’s a new year, but we’re all up to old stuff. Really, what’s changed? Take a look around and see whether you can spot the differences. This isn’t a kids’ game, though — I bet you can’t find a monkey in a bush where there wasn’t one before. It’s the same picture. But we’re sick »

A slur, an apology, a termination, a hiatus and a return. Don Imus’ fall eight months ago was as fast as he was popular. And on Monday, he quietly returned. It’s not all the same now. Far fewer radio stations broadcast his program, “Imus in the Morning,” than did a year ago. And Imus himself »

From where we were in the stands, it was unclear what had happened. But the scoreboard made it clear. One drive in, the Bulldogs were already down. Fifty-nine minutes remained, but the tide never turned. I don’t need to remind Yalies of The Game — a game we’d all like to forget. But as our »

I have a secret: I’m not much of a sports fan. I haven’t told my editors, so I hope this doesn’t come as a shock to them, and I hope you’ll still be able to find my column here next week. But it’s time to come clean. Maybe you’ve gotten that sense already. Maybe this »

For this column, I am invoking the fifth rule of 21st-century sports coverage: If ESPN covers it, it’s a sport. Next week, I may write about bass fishing or the Iditarod. This week you get poker. I was first introduced to cards by Mel Gibson. When I was five years old, I saw the movie »

Bigger and better is the story — at least from the administration. I say, whatever. Monday’s edition of the News featured three above-the-fold stories on Yale’s admissions, expansion and renovation. The New Yale, the University tells us, will serve more students from more diverse backgrounds in better living arrangements. Two new residential colleges are in »

The clock hit zero, and the sky began to darken. Objects flew all around me — obscuring my field of vision — and the mob shrieked. A masked man pointed at me and gestured with hate. I was a pilgrim in an unholy land. “Here’s a toast to dear old Penn!” they shouted. And then »

My elementary school had a yard behind it — a field of cement squeezed into the city between high-rise apartment buildings. It was confined to half a block, the space on the block not occupied by the school. But it was huge, because we were four feet tall. Growing up in the middle of a »

Last Monday night, I gave up on the library and got back to my room around 9:30 during the seventh inning. Never mind that I hadn’t done any work — there was baseball to watch. Before leaving, I text messaged one of my suitemates to make sure the game was on TV. I should have »

“It was a scary, rude awakening. I thought reffing IMs would be a laid-back role, that I’d have some fun. Instead, people were yelling at me — yelling, and cursing.” I first heard about the game from one of the referees, a friend of mine. Returning from the fields where he had been refereeing IM »