En a motel in Isla Mujeres, eight miles off the coast of Cancun, the flight of Yasiel Puig had come to an end. Confined to a corner room at the end of a dingy courtyard with a horseshoe, could do nothing but wait and hold on to your hopes while evaluating their value and bought his freedom. There was nothing personal in the transaction, any loved one who undertook to pay anything; there was only a crude estimate of the business.
Among coffee aficionados, the AeroPress is a revelation. A small, $30 plastic device that resembles a plunger makes what many consider to be the best cup of coffee in the world. Proponents of the device claim that drinks made with the AeroPress are more delicious than those made with thousand-dollar machines.
American target shooter Josh Lakatos faced a conundrum. Halfway through the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney, he and his rifle-toting teammates were finished with their events, and the U.S. Olympic Committee and team officials had ordered them to turn in the keys to their three-story house and head back to the States.
Sheer boredom -- and nothing else -- sparked the prank.It was the spring of 1974, and the National Hockey League was facing a serious threat. The nascent, cash-flush World Hockey Association had begun to sign top players. To keep the upstart WHA from poaching young talent, the NHL held its annual draft in private. Prior to every selection, league president Clarence Campbell phoned each team, then read and spelled out the names of the round's previous picks.
The secret was already weighing on him as the team bus pulled out of Washington and headed north Tal Bayer, coach of one of the District’s most unlikely athletic success stories, sat at the front, his pale bald head a beacon to his roster of two dozen teenagers. He called them his boys, and the physical expression of their relationship — cleats, gym bags, rugby balls — were strewn all over the bus.