VICE US - SportsRSS feed for https://www.vice.com/en/section/sportshttps://www.vice.com/en%2Fsection%2Fsports%3Flocale%3Den_usenThu, 07 Mar 2024 11:42:42 GMT<![CDATA[Epicly Later'd Is Back on VICE, Baby]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/jg59eb/epicly-laterd-new-series-2024Thu, 07 Mar 2024 11:42:42 GMTTwenty years ago, Patrick O’Dell started a blog called Epicly Later’d, documenting Downtown New York, the skaters he hung out with, and whatever else he felt like pointing his camera at.

That blog turned into a documentary series on our old video website, VBS.tv, then on our YouTube channel, and over the last two decades has become objectively the best and most in-depth video document of modern skateboarding. That may sound biased, and that’s because it is. But I’m afraid it’s also absolutely true.

In excellent news, Epicly Later’d is back with a brand new series. The first two episodes are out – and, conveniently, you can watch them by literally scrolling one tiny bit further down this page.

Don 'Nuge' Nguyen , the Skate Legend Who Escaped Death and Saved 'Thrasher'

How Stefan Janoski Became the World's Most Successful Skater

Keep an eye on the VICE YouTube channel for the next few episodes.

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jg59ebVICE StaffJamie CliftonSkateboardingEPICLY LATERDepicly later'd vicepatrick odell
<![CDATA[The Best Thing in Skateboarding Right Now Is This Old Green Bench]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/7k8w8a/the-best-thing-in-skateboarding-right-now-is-this-old-green-benchThu, 15 Sep 2022 20:22:09 GMTThirteen feet and 300 pounds of steel painted pine green, the bench was first installed as part of a set in a Santa Ana office complex in the late 1990s. To the skaters who first encountered it, it was a once-in-a-lifetime obstacle: its gradual arc provided a unique sensation for anyone talented enough to grind or slide its length, and its distinct look made for memorable photos and video footage. It was too good to just sit there.

Intrepid skaters cut the bench from the ground, both to preserve it and to hoard it for themselves. For a while, the bench was a staple of a DIY skatepark in Los Angeles, where it played a supporting role in some of the best skate videos of the early 2000s, like Girl Skateboards’ Yeah, Right! and DC Shoes’ The DC Video. Then one day, it unceremoniously disappeared. That’s normal—spots come and go all the time in skateboarding. But now, after almost 20 years, the bench is back, and, thanks to the hard work of skateboarders across the country, it has earned an almost mythical status in its own right.

Professional skateboarder Anthony Van Engelen, or AVE, was one of many to skate the bench in its heyday, but his name became synonymous with this particular hunk of steel when his brand Fucking Awesome released Dancing On Thin Ice in 2020. At a spry 42 years young, the video contains some of AVE’s most impressive skateboarding and ends with a switch backside noseblunt slide, one of the hardest ledge tricks imaginable. The gravity of the trick was almost overshadowed by AVE’s obstacle of choice: that same old green bench.

“I definitely knew it would trip people out, like, ‘Is that the bench from The DC Video?’” AVE told VICE of its unlikely reappearance, which was the focus of a Quartersnacks documentary the next year. “To loop back around 20 years later and be able to film some stuff on it that, for myself, in my 40s, it means something.” 

When Fucking Awesome opened a flagship store in the East Village in 2021, AVE left the original bench in a skatepark in southern California and brought a replica that he’d commissioned along with him. For a year, it sat in Tompkins Square Park, until one night this August, when a group of skateboarders from Philadelphia made off with it in the middle of the night. 

They brought the bench to Philadelphia’s Municipal Services Building, one of the city’s most popular skate spots, with grand intentions: “Posting a picture of this bench at Muni, this cursed-ass image that looks kinda Photoshopped, would be so fucking funny,” said Harry Bergenfield, one of the Philly skateboarders behind the heist. Afterward, they left it at Cecil B. Moore Plaza. “We were hyped,” he said. “It looked good. Philly kids were skating it.”

Their photo and the accompanying story were a huge hit among skateboarders, spawning memes, reposts of tricks filmed on the bench, and an Instagram account dedicated to tracking the bench’s whereabouts. It even provoked tongue-in-cheek coverage from the New York Post and NPR, which fanned the flames while perpetuating the story of a sort of “turf war,” much to Bergenfield’s chagrin. “It was a practical joke between me and my close group of friends in Philly and our counterparts in New York—all those Homies Network kids who hang out at Tompkins,” he said. “We didn’t expect anyone except for those kids to care.”

When a grainy video of a forklift removing the bench from Cecil started circulating Labor Day weekend, everyone assumed the story was over. But on September 7, a group of blue-collar skaters from Richmond, Virginia, known as the Bust Crew, posted a photo on Instagram of the bench sitting in a parking lot, sans caption or any outside context. Incredibly, they had managed to save the bench from the scrap heap and were dragging it through the region’s finest parking lots.

“It’s cool that Bust Crew took it,” Bergenfield said. “Not because the heat is off us, but because it’s more widely understood that it’s just a joke, and everyone feels more comfortable being in on it.”

AVE is in on the fun, too. Rather than being upset that the bench was stolen, he appreciates that more skateboarders will get to skate the bench now that it’s on the move than when it was sitting in storage. “My experience with that bench is usually that an individual or a small group takes it and keeps it for themselves,” he said. “But this thing where they’re letting other groups of skaters in the country bring it to hot spots, and people are getting to session it, that’s pretty rad. I didn’t anticipate what’s happening right now.” 

“It’s just a joke, and everyone feels more comfortable being in on it.” —Harry Bergenfield

Until recently, the bench’s origin story was never public knowledge—it was local lore or hearsay across the skateboard industry—and its second life would have never happened without the help of internet-era outlets or Instagram, where weird niches can thrive. Now it’s part of skateboarding’s shared culture, and especially welcome at a time when anything remotely authentic-feeling runs the risk of being co-opted and sterilized for monetary value, branding, or other nefarious purposes. Following the bench saga, everyone can make jokes, speculate on its next move, and even watch pro skaters get in on the action, in real-time. There’s even a conspiracy theory: that this is all part of an ongoing Vans campaign, since AVE and Gilbert Crockett, a pro skater who’s a part of the Bust Crew, both have pro shoes with the brand.

“Much of what it means to be a skater is being impressed by places and people we see on screens,” said Kyle Beachy, author of The Most Fun Thing: Dispatches from a Skateboard Life. “For certain skaters, there are locations, objects, images, and figures that achieve a status something like the sacred. The great thing about the bench is that it's mobile in ways sacred skate spots (obviously) are not, but also it's cumbersome and heavy and not the sort of thing that can move without serious effort. Like skateboarding itself, you've got to really, really want the bench in order to move it.”

As intimidating as the bench is, the physical act of skating it isn’t nearly as impressive—or funny—as simply having the bench in the first place, and where it goes next is anyone’s guess. Even where it is now is a mystery: On Instagram, overlapping posts seem to place the bench both in Richmond and back in Philly. Rumor has it another group of skateboarders is planning to bring it further south, while the upcoming Dime Glory Challenge in Montreal seems like a prime opportunity to sneak the bench across international borders.

“Skateboarding needs lore and myths,” Bergenfield said. “We love that shit. We obsess over the details, all the bullshit we love. This is just another silly story [that] kinda got blown out of proportion. We don’t do stuff like this in skateboarding that often, and the real story is about AVE—how his hard work endowed this bench with meaning and now everyone wants to see if they can crooked grind it.”

As for AVE himself?  

“If skaters can keep it in their possession and not get it taken, it’ll be interesting where it goes. I hope the story just gets more and more bizarre.”

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7k8w8aAndrew MurrellDuncan Cooperthe green benchSkateboardingharry bergenfieldAnthony Van Engelenbust crewfolklore
<![CDATA[This Is What It Means To Run While Black]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/7k8zzb/this-is-what-it-means-to-run-while-blackMon, 06 Jun 2022 17:51:55 GMTFor the Black community, the act of running is marked by a history of racial profiling and violence that often makes the otherwise healthy and empowering sport a source of fear. That's why we've partnered with adidas to celebrate all the complexities that come from running while Black, in addition to the often-overlooked achievements and contributions Black athletes have made in the world of sports. Click here for more on “Running While Black,” including the first episode, and catch it on VICE TV starting 6/18.

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7k8zzbVICE Branded StaffSports
<![CDATA[The Final Days of Derby Lane]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/xgzgkq/derby-lane-st-petersburg-greyhound-racing-closesMon, 14 Dec 2020 12:00:00 GMTAlexis Winning’s favorite photo from Derby Lane’s archives is a memorable one. In the Depression-era black-and-white, a little girl extends her hand towards a monkey who is riding on the back of a greyhound. The monkey was actually a jockey and the winner of a special race featuring all dog-riding primates.

“She’s offering a peanut and probably wondering if the monkey is gonna bite her finger,” Winning said, laughing.

The little girl in the photo is Alexis’s grandmother, Mary Margaret Winning, the longtime matriarch of Derby Lane who died last year at the age of 94. It’s a striking visual reminder of the family’s five generations of history at the track.

If Fenway Park is the spiritual home of baseball, then Derby Lane, in St. Petersburg, Florida, is the Fenway of greyhound racing. Its massive, old-fashioned red neon signage has been luring drivers in from the nearby Gandy Boulevard since the Hoover Administration. 

But in November of 2018, Florida voters passed Amendment 13, which called for the abolishment of greyhound racing in the state by the end of 2020. Today, dog racing is a dying pastime in the U.S., an echo of 1920 and 30s Ragtime America. Tracks still operate in Arkansas, Iowa, and West Virginia, but Florida was the big leagues of dog racing in the U.S.—as recently as two years ago, 11 out of the last remaining 17 commercial dog tracks in the States were in the Sunshine State. Given national trends as well as Florida’s stature as the sport’s last stateside stronghold, it’s not a stretch to say Amendment 13 could herald the end of dog racing in America.

Derby Lane is a family-owned business and has been from the start; in fact, it’s still in the same family—the Winning family (yes, really). Richard Winning is the CEO of the St. Petersburg Kennel Club, the company that owns Derby Lane, and his family has owned the track for five generations.

Alexis, his daughter, is the Marketing/Social Media Coordinator for Derby Lane and has worked there for 15 years in nearly every capacity: administrative assistant, poker room cashier, special events coordinator. Few know the track, or the business of greyhound racing, better.

Winning’s great-great-grandfather, TL Weaver, sold the land to some businessmen who had plans for a greyhound track, but the buyers defaulted on their loan—so Weaver ended up with it. The racetrack has been in the family ever since. “This is the oldest continuously operating dog track in the world,” Winning said, “and we want to be there until the end.” 

Mary Margaret Winning, at 8 years old, presents a trophy to the monkey-jockey that won on the back of that greyhound in 1933. There are peanuts in the trophy for the monkey
Mary Margaret Winning, at 8 years old, presents a trophy to the monkey-jockey that won on the back of that greyhound in 1933. There are peanuts in the trophy for the monkey. Photo courtesy of Derby Lane Archive

So what led Floridians to change their minds? A mix of changing cultural attitudes towards animals in general (and dogs specifically), several high-profile industry scandals that drew outrage, and a massive public campaign coordinated by various groups opposed to greyhound racing.

There’s been a nationwide shift in thinking about how animals in the United States are treated, and the developments in Florida are evidence of that. Performing circus animals have been widely outlawed, and even Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey ended “The Greatest Show on Earth” several years ago, largely due to pressure from PETA. California passed a law requiring more space for various farm animals and banning cages for egg-producing hens. And New York City has been steadily limiting Central Park’s famous horse-drawn carriages, with an outright ban likely on the way.

But dogs occupy their own special place in the debate over the treatment of animals, having undergone a status upgrade from backyard pets to family members, ones that Americans are willing to spend heavily on (in 2018, Americans spent a record total of $72 billion on their pets). Any intimation that they're being mistreated—let alone being doped up with cocaine or steroids—is capable of incensing the greater public.

It's this cultural shift that allowed Amendment 13 to pass with an overwhelming 69 percent of voters choosing to end racing; in an age of extreme partisan polarization, it was that rare beast with massive bipartisan support. The amendment was endorsed by (take a deep breath): Lara Trump, former Democratic gubernatorial candidate Andrew Gillum, Republican Governor Rick Scott, the League of Women Voters of Florida, Attorney General Pam Bondi, Republican Congressman Matt Gaetz, the Democratic Progressive Caucus of Florida, former Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee, the Florida College Democrats, and the Florida Federation of Republican Women.

Many organizations poured money into the ad campaign for Amendment 13, including well-known groups like the Humane Society, the ASPCA, and PETA, but the push in Florida was spearheaded by GREY2K USA, a non-profit that merges grassroots advocacy with political engagement and aims “to represent the dogs themselves, work to pass greyhound protection laws, end dog racing, and promote adoption.” The group is led by Carey Theil, who has been in charge of research and political efforts over the last two decades.

A shot of the exterior of Derby Lane
Photo by Gabriel Aluisy​

“Greyhound racing is cruel and inhumane and should be phased out,” Theil said—and he now believes that’s only a matter of time until it is. “Racing is going to end completely in the United States. The only question left is how long that process will take and how many dogs will suffer in the meantime.”

The trends and stats nationwide make a solid case for his prediction. According to the Association of Racing Commissioners Intl. and collective state data, $3.5 billion was bet nationally at dog racing’s peak in 1991. At the time, there were more than 60 racetracks in 19 states. By 2014, gambling on racing had dropped to a comparatively meager $400 million. In Theil’s eyes, it’s “a depression-era relic of an industry that just happens to still exist today and will soon be relegated to the history books.”

Baseball greats and racing fans: (front, L to R) Dizzy Dean, Babe Ruth, and Rabbit Maranville hold numbers that were hand placed on the odds board. Behind are the three judges Sid Harris, Tom and Heuse Gregory and odds board number placer.
Baseball greats and racing fans: (front, L to R) Dizzy Dean, Babe Ruth, and Rabbit Maranville hold numbers that were hand placed on the odds board. Behind are the three judges Sid Harris, Tom and Heuse Gregory and odds board number placer. Photo courtesy of Derby Lane Archive

In its nearly century-long run in Florida, dog racing has evolved in unpredictable ways. In racing’s early days, during Prohibition, Florida was flooded with gangsters and illegal booze. These races were, technically speaking, illegal, and known to be associated with organized crime—but in 1931, pari-mutuel betting was legalized, and the game became respectable. Under this system—familiar to fans of horse racing—specific bets of a certain kind (i.e. a bet that dog No. 3 will place first) are grouped together into a pool. Taxes and the house cut are deducted from the pool, and payoffs for the winners are calculated by dividing the pool among all winning bets. This way, a bet correctly guessing the top three finishers of a race will pay off at a much higher rate than a simpler bet for a single dog to “place” in the top three. State officials saw this influx of cash as an easy way to add revenue amid the Great Depression.

Derby Lane’s first dog races were held on Jan. 3, 1925, and the early years were star-studded and glamorous. Greyhound racing enjoyed a glitzy aura of celebrity and wealth. Professional baseball players in Florida would come to the tracks for spring training and bet fistfuls of cash; Babe Ruth was a regular patron, along with other legends like Dizzy Dean, Lou Gehrig, and “Rabbit” Maranville. In 1951, Mickey Mantle filmed a cigarette commercial here. The old grandstands have hosted Hollywood royalty as well—as late as 2001, Brad Pitt and Carl Reiner shot a scene there for the now-classic heist caper Ocean’s 11. But like the public perception of the Mick’s cigarettes, dog racing’s image has drastically changed as well.

My hometown, Dunedin, is 20 miles north of St. Petersburg, and I went to high school in The Burg. While the track’s appeal was still strong in the late 1990s and early 2000s, the glamour was mostly gone. That isn’t to say Derby Lane wasn’t cool; it very much was. Derby Lane is a piece of old Florida history; and growing up in Pinellas County, attending a race is a rite of passage upon turning 18.

For today’s locals, hitting the track is a fun, affordable night out. It was a great place to go for those dwelling in the limbo between 18 and 21. Entry is free, the programs with all the dogs’ statistics are $1.25, and minimum bets are only $2. Once you hit the legal drinking age, the cheap draft beers made Derby Lane an even bigger draw. One of my best friends (Gabriel Aluisy, the photographer for this story) had his bachelor party there.

A group of young racing fans out one August night in 2019 watch the races from the floor
Photo by Gabriel Aluisy​

On the one hand, it was a place where retirees whiled away time, but on the other, a place that featured fast dogs, gambling, and inexpensive booze. Even in the early 2000s, the track felt like something forbidden; the experience of betting was anachronistic, like Dick Tracy and Elliot Ness could show up and raid the place at any moment. There were usually a few shady characters hanging around. Naturally, we loved it.

Many Florida tracks became loss leaders, and owners opted to close ahead of the deadline for Amendment 13. Sarasota Kennel Club, another historic track with a history dating back to 1929, ended races in May 2019. Derby Lane, however, has remained a profitable enterprise. The “handle,” or yearly take from racing (ignoring poker and other streams of income), hit a high of $80 million in 2006, and is, even now, around $20 million. Derby Lane will carry on business as usual to the last possible day—Winning views it as the least they can do for the track’s employees.

What she most wants people to remember about the near-century of greyhound racing in St. Petersburg is the historic nature of Derby Lane, from when it opened on Jan. 3, 1925, to its forthcoming final race on Dec. 27. “I want people to think of the thousands of employees who worked at Derby Lane, from high schoolers getting their first job as a lead-out, to seasonal employees who held jobs for many years. The people who worked so hard to make Derby Lane a destination,” said Winning. “What many don’t realize is every track in Florida directly affects the basic infrastructure in that city. St. Pete is one of those cities that are going to feel that. There are so many local businesses and charities that we have worked with throughout the years.” 

“There are movies like Seabiscuit, parties for the Kentucky Derby—it’s a part of our culture. People know the horses’ names, like American Pharoah… You couldn’t find two people in 100 to tell you the names of the world’s fastest dogs.”

Since 1931, approximately $75.5 billion in pari-mutuel handle wagered has resulted in $4.38 billion in state revenue; the industry may not be what it once was, but the stakes are not small for those directly involved in the industry, as well as those on the periphery, such as greyhound adoption agencies—and in a development many wouldn’t expect, some have become a source of support for the racing industry. John Parker, VP for Greyhound Adopters for Racing, believes racing is good for the individual dogs, good for the breed, and good for the economy.

“Racing is one of the keys to the long-term best interests of the breed because racing maintains their genetic diversity,” Parker said, adding that since they’re bred for athletic excellence, “racing greyhounds have far more genetic diversity than other breeds—there is almost zero hip dysplasia, for instance. When you have inbreeding, which is quite common in the world of show dogs, these genetic health problems become concentrated.”

Lead-outs (the people who handle the greyhounds just before the races) prepare dogs for the next race
Lead-outs (the people who handle the greyhounds just before the races) prepare dogs for the next race. Photo by Gabriel Aluisy​

But a sticking point for many Florida voters was one rather grim, unavoidable fact of dog racing: some dogs will get injured, and some of those dogs will die. As Theil pointed out, “The state of Florida does require public reporting of all deaths that occur on track property. According to the state, 531 greyhounds have died at Florida racetracks since May 2013. And most of these deaths occurred after dogs suffered serious injuries while racing.”

Florida does not, however, require the public reporting of greyhound injuries. “There is extensive evidence that injuries are a serious problem at every track in the state," said Theil. Seminole County passed a county-wide injury reporting requirement in 2017. Over the past three years, 147 greyhound injuries have been reported at the single track in that County, Sanford Orlando Kennel Club, including 106 dogs that suffered broken bones.

So what does Parker say to those who are concerned with injured dogs, or dogs that must be euthanized?

“Injuries are very rare, and the way it’s presented is often decontextualized. How do the injury rates compare to dogs in the pet world? Injury rates are between 1 and 2 percent of all racing starts,” Parker explained. “Greyhound racing has a better track record than horse racing, and I think doctors will tell you that they see more injuries at home than on the track. The folks at Grey2KUSA use the stats to make it look like they are more frequent than they are.”

Parker argued that the very nature of greyhounds makes them more injury-prone than other breeds, and he feels the blame racing itself receives for the injuries is misplaced. “I always tell people, these dogs have very big engines on light frames,” he said. “I have a pet greyhound myself, and she recently suffered a compound fracture.”

As far as the bell tolling for dog racing in America, Parker isn’t ready to call it yet. “I think the jury is still out on that. We do need to remake the business, and venues should be owned by greyhound people and racing people, not just gambling people.”

Derby Lane will continue to offer poker and simulcast wagering as long as the state allows. And Parker is quick to point out that Amendment 13 has a rather large loophole. “It does not, as many have stated, ‘ban greyhound racing in Florida.’ It only bans gambling in Florida on greyhound racing in Florida,” he said. “Floridians can still bet on racing held in other states simply by going to a facility in Florida that offers simulcast wagering. Greyhound racing could still be held in Florida with wagering coming from sources outside Florida.” So it’s possible there is some wiggle room for the industry if it can explore other revenue models.

When pressed for details on how to reinvent the industry, Parker said he wants to “emphasize the sport aspect of it, like horse racing does. They’ve maintained their image as a mainstream sport, and greyhound racing has not. There are movies like Seabiscuit, parties for the Kentucky Derby—it’s a part of our culture. People know the horses’ names, like American Pharoah… You couldn’t find two people in 100 to tell you the names of the world’s fastest dogs.”

Although the Amendment had two years to be phased in, there have been some fears that “unemployed” dogs in Florida won’t find homes and will have to be euthanized—claims that Parker says are nonsense.

“I guarantee you no dogs will be euthanized because of racing being shut down. Even some racing people have indulged in that misinformation, and it’s a shame,” Parker said. “The adoption community is ready, and can handle it—we’ve done this before.”

This is a point that Parker and Theil actually agree on. Theil said that during the campaign, some opponents of Grey2kUSA “used the adoption issue as a scare tactic,” claiming that dogs would go unadopted and have to be euthanized—but he doesn’t accord this argument much weight.

“When dog racing has ended elsewhere, it has led to record years for greyhound adoption—and we believe the same thing will happen in Florida,” said Theil. However, Theil does believe that adoption has been deeply politicized by the industry over the past year. “Dog racing promoters have made a conscious effort to turn the greyhound rescue community into a public relations arm of the industry—every group that spoke out about animal welfare problems has been ostracized and forced to close. Only certain groups are given access to dogs now and must be enthusiastically supportive of greyhound racing and willing to defend it to keep their industry imprimatur.” Everyone seems to agree the dogs deserve good lives; how that’s being done and who gets to help do it is still a matter of contention.

A shot of some bettors standing track-side on the floor watching a race
Photo by Gabriel Aluisy​

While there’s no doubt the industry has greatly cleaned up its act since the 1980s and vastly improved conditions and treatment of dogs, it’s also been rocked by a series of scandals in recent years. The most bizarre—and the one that likely grabbed the most headlines—was in 2017, when dogs in the care of a Florida trainer tested positive for cocaine (more specifically, the dogs tested positive for Benzoylecgonine, a metabolite of cocaine). All dogs that win a race are tested, along with another dog chosen at random. In this case, a race winner tested positive, indicating that someone had attempted (successfully, it would seem) to give certain dogs a competitive edge.

Winning has doubts and said that important details of that case haven’t been publicized, including the validity of the urine samples. “Greyhounds are dropped off for weigh-in and are not around their kennel helpers or trainers for anywhere from one-and-a-half to five hours before they race. Honestly, I don’t buy any of this. Cocaine is likely to kill a greyhound that reaches speeds of 45 miles per hour within its first six strides.”

While “coked-up canines” may grab more headlines, another major doping concern for Theil is anabolic steroids.

“Female greyhounds are routinely given an anabolic steroid, methyltestosterone, to prevent a loss of race days,” said Theil. The practice is outlawed in the racing industry in other countries (the UK, Australia, and New Zealand) but continues in the United States. “There are serious health issues related to the use of this drug, which by definition enhances performance.” Theil noted that the Florida House and Senate both voted to outlaw the practice, but that “each time, the bill died during the final days of the legislative session.”

“Over the past decade there have been more than 400 greyhound drug positives at Florida tracks, including more than 70 greyhound cocaine positives, as well as positive results for novocaine, lidocaine, and the opiates oxycodone and oxymorphone,” said Theil.

Aside from the doping, concerns were raised about the dogs’ habitats and how they are cared for, with some groups (among them Grey2kUSA) claiming that the dogs are kept in cages for up to 23 hours a day.

Theil said that “dog tracks require a large number of dogs to operate—in July 2019 alone, 965 greyhounds raced at Palm Beach Kennel Club. Because of that, dogs are kept in large warehouse-style kennel compounds, in rows of stacked metal cages with carpet remnants or shredded paper as bedding. And those dogs are in these cages for 20 to 23 hours each day.”

This is another claim that Winning disputes. “The dogs live their first year with their litter-mates playing and socializing, and they also have a lot of human interaction at the farm,” she said. “Once a greyhound is racing, it only races once every four days.”

Winning took particular issue with the ads during the campaign for Amendment 13, which showed greyhounds in cages and claimed they spent 23 hours a day in a crate. “Kennels at Derby Lane begin their first turn-out as early as 4 a.m.—when kennel workers clean and change bedding while the dogs spend time in the pen. And this is just the first of many turnouts, with the last being around 11 p.m.,” said Winning. She made the valid point that this is “more than most people’s dogs are let out. These dogs are athletes. If a dog was abused or confined, it would not perform well… A racing greyhound gets regular exercise, a cool-down bath after racing, massages, and is regularly checked over by a vet… What a terrible life they live, huh?”

As anyone who has attended a race can attest, the dogs do appear to be enjoying themselves, often straining eagerly against their handlers as they’re led out to the track—something else Winning called attention to: “The dogs all have different dispositions. If a dog doesn’t want to run, it doesn’t. No one can make it run.” Much in the same way some dogs bred for hunting simply won’t hunt, not every greyhound is a born racer.

Winning chalks up the loss at the ballot box to misconceptions about greyhound racing, and a lack of education about the sport. She feels Amendment 13’s passage came down to “the humanization of pets, specifically dogs, that has occurred over the years.” Following the public hearings, the Humane Society and Protect Dogs Yes on 13 campaign “dumped a bunch of money into television ads—and that really got into Florida voter's heads.” 

Derby Lane tried to counter this wave of ads—the track even tried to host public kennel tours to be more transparent, but Winning said that “once word spread that we were running tours, the opposition dug through the pari-mutuel wagering division rules and found one that overruled our own track policy regarding tours,” meaning they were able to prevent Derby Lane from inviting the public to view operations. 

“So obviously, they didn’t want people to see what really happens—or those people would be likely to vote in our favor and not theirs.” Still, the industry in Florida countered the emotionally charged television ads with a billboard campaign, and didn’t seem to devote anywhere near the financial resources as their opposition did to swaying public opinion; it’s certainly possible they underestimated what turned out to be an existential threat.

The writer sitting in the mostly empty grandstand reading the program, August 2019
Photo by Gabriel Aluisy​

The old grandstands aren’t nearly as packed as they were in the glory days, but on a hot and breezy day last year in August, there was still a healthy smattering of people, and that was despite competition from a Buccaneers pre-season game in neighboring Tampa Bay. The track’s circular course of white sand contains a grassy infield and a small pond and fountain in the middle, with five palm trees sprouting from a tiny island in the water.

Races can go for either 550 or 660 yards, and betting tickets are bought from windows at the ground level. Poker rooms and the track’s flagship restaurant Circa 1925 are on the third level, but down on the ground is the preferred spot to watch the races, where the scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and industrial light lager wafts on the breeze.

Speaking to Winning, it’s clear she loves what she does. “I think my favorite thing about working at Derby Lane is that it is a 94-year-old family-owned and operated business,” she said. “To see a local place with nearly 450 employees—employed year-round—still being run by a family is very rare these days.” According to her, many employees have spent decades working in the industry, and will now need to be re-trained in a new field, “if they are still young enough.”

Jonathan Aluisy, aka “The South Snake” (he’s Gabriel Aluisy’s father), has been coming to the dog track at Derby Lane since 1994. And despite a lifetime ban (a misunderstanding and later rescinded after some shrewd lobbying on his part), he is as much of a regular as it gets. 

“These last 10 years, since I retired, I’ve been coming here five days a week. Most of us play poker in the morning, too,” said Aluisy. “It’s a very friendly atmosphere, parking is free, admission is free—you can’t beat that.”

Like most Floridians, I voted Yes on Amendment 13. As things stand, it doesn’t seem possible to divorce the industry from dogs becoming injured. Whether or not they are likely to get injured at home as well, I’m not okay with even one dog getting hurt or killed for my entertainment. But I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t going to miss Derby Lane. The place has character, something that Florida seems forever intent on eradicating with garish billboards, soulless strip malls, and bland chain restaurants.

The bipartisan political heft behind Amendment 13 all but ensures Florida’s days as America’s dog racing capital are over—for the moment. Aluisy isn’t happy about it.

“This law stinks. These dogs were born for racing, it’s in their genes,” he said, echoing the sentiments of Parker. “After a race, their tails are all wagging—they love to race… On a two-dollar bet, you can make a few thousand—that’s juicy! I’m going to miss Derby Lane a lot, and so will thousands of others.”

Theil sees the phased ending of greyhound racing in Florida as something that even a state as politically divided against itself as Florida can agree on. “We’re living through an era that is so divided, so much cynicism—this issue is an example of democracy working,” he said. “For the animal welfare community to flex its muscles and to take on an industry that used to be so powerful? Personally, it’s very gratifying—but I also recognize it is disruptive. Individuals are having to make new lives. Dogs are being displaced. I am empathetic. But it doesn’t take away from the fact this is proof that ordinary people can say: ‘This goes against our values, and it’s going to end.’”

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xgzgkqStephen K HirstClover HopeKate Drieslifestylederby laneGreyhound Racinghorse racing
<![CDATA[Sorry to Other Sports, But I Want the XFL Back Most of All]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/dygjea/xfl-why-we-need-new-sportsWed, 25 Mar 2020 16:23:10 GMT It is rare that life affords us the privilege of knowing when we’re doing something for the last time. I couldn’t tell you anything about the last ball I threw for my dead dog, Texas Ranger (RIP buddy), or sweated my ass off for the final time on the ratty seats of my first car. And if you’d come up to me as I held my big beer in the nosebleeds of my very first XFL game and said, “Enjoy this, sucker, because you’ll never do it again,” I would’ve burped in your face to the tune of, “Yeah, right!!!!”

But that was nearly three weeks ago—basically a different lifetime, as things have been going—and this is now. The XFL, like almost every other sport, suspended the rest of its season amid the coronavirus pandemic. It was absolutely the right call, perhaps no group of people were less equipped to social distance than my fellow XFL fans, but is also an unparalleled bummer.

I’ve seen all the regular versions of football—high school, college, NFL—and so can say with at least some authority that the XFL is by far the best one. While almost all pro sports now have been statistics-ed and metrics-ed and analytics-ed to death, the XFL bears none of that weight because it’s too new, so chaos can, nay, must reign.

I was raised to believe that sports are meant to be fun and cool, which the XFL seems to have kept in mind. At my game, I watched players throw t-shirts into the crowd and dance openly and with abandon on the field. Fans playfully beefed about loyalty to Walmart vs. Target, and the XFL commissioner allegedly contributed his own beer cup to a 50+ foot snake of cups being constructed in the endzone opposite me. Each time I look back on this game, further removed from it and any sport, the memory sweetens; it was perfect, because the XFL is perfect. If the pandemic brings us to a The Giver situation where we have to pick only one kind of football to keep, it should absolutely be the XFL. For your viewing pleasure, please, look at these videos demonstrating gameplay:

If you need further convincing, I’ve put together a thoughtful review of all the reasons why the XFL is the best, broken down into categories I’ve deemed important.

Game play: 6-9/10

I’ve thought a lot about it, and would describe watching an XFL game live like this: College football-ish level skill, with the technology and sideline staff of a high school program. Unlike NFL and college football games, which are riddled with so many breaks between plays that you can kinda zone out while watching, the XFL employs a running clock. This means there’s essentially no downtime, guys are just running around all the time, scrambling to the line of scrimmage, and then scrambling during the action play. Non-stop action. The XFL also allows double-forward passing, so picture this: Not one forward pass per play, but two. This rules, because (successfully) passing the ball is the most exciting thing that can happen on offense. Doing it twice in a row? By my math, this is excitement squared, at least.

One of the biggest appeals of the XFL is its spicy new rules. Kickoffs look a lot different, and there’s no kicking for an extra point after a touchdown (instead, teams can try for one, two, or three extra points by running plays from various yard lines). XFL overtime is the zaniest departure from “classic football rules,” though unfortunately I never got to see it. It basically works like an NHL shootout, where both teams alternate making one offensive play each from the five-yard line. Fans at my game wanted to see this happen so badly, they were cheering for the visiting team to tie the game just to be able to witness the football shootout. If all the rules are hard to follow? No problem, because the XFL, thoughtful as ever, has XFL Rules Experts on the sidelines at each game, to explain what’s happening.

The sideline staff adds to the entertainment by being seemingly brand new to their jobs. NFL sidelines are so polished and streamlined that you hardly notice the staff, except to get annoyed over calls you disagree with. In the XFL, refs brought out the chains to measure first downs so many times, the beloved men in front of me, aka my best friends on earth, started cheering for the chains to be brought out after every play.

Players: ?????/10

I don’t know anything about the players in the XFL, and neither did anyone sitting near me in the stands of the game on Sunday. Many of them played Division I college programs, but many others did not. What I do know, though, is that the players were having a freaking blast.

The XFL doesn’t fuss around with the stupidest rule in all of football: No end zone celebrations. In the XFL, one can celebrate after simply any play. I watched players dance in the middle of the field; I saw a guy do the dougie in the DC end zone. All of it was silly and great, just as games should be.

After the 10-minute halftime (perfect amount of time to go pee and get another big beer), one of the DC Defenders players stopped to throw T-shirts into the crowd. Another (and this is maybe why the XFL was wise to suspend its season) stopped to high-five with people in the bleachers. Have you ever seen that behavior at an NFL or D1 college game? Absolutely not, because the NFL, as a fan at my game pointed out, stands for No Fun League, while the XFL is the Xtreme Fun League.

Fans: 10/10

Listen up: The fans are the best part of the XFL. The league slogan, as all devotees know, is “FOR THE LOVE OF FOOTBALL.” The fans are so good because it’s really hard to be an asshole about a brand new team that has no winning legacy to uphold, no underdog reputation to get overly mad about, and no tarnished reputation for being beloved by rich freaks. During the first quarter of Sunday’s game, a bunch of boys wearing their Walmart employee vests walked up the stairs to their seats yelling “FUCK TARGET!!!” You can judge a sport’s fans by what they are willing to cheer for, and XFL fans are willing to cheer for literally anything. That’s great, because yelling is 70 percent of the fun of sports.

Merch: 6/10

I would give the merch more points if there were simply more of it. The existing stuff is cool, mostly because the team colors are slightly unhinged (the Vipers’ uniforms are neon green). As my friend Kelsey pointed out at the game we went to, every single DC sports team was represented at our XFL game, via the shirts and jerseys people were wearing. It’s fair that not many people have XFL gear yet, since these are new teams, but I would personally love to see more of it. When I checked the XFL online store on Sunday, the only sold out item in the Houston Roughnecks shop (since removed) was a shot glass (?!!??!). If you’re into wearing rare t-shirts and making groundbreaking fashion choices—but are also really into sports—the XFL is your chance to wear merch for teams no one has ever heard of.

Team names: 10/10

Simply compare the NFL and XFL team names and you’ll understand what I mean:

  • Tampa Bay Buccaneers (NFL) vs. Tampa Bay Vipers (XFL). Pirates are okay, but they follow a code. Snakes? No rules. They do what they want.
  • St. Louis n/a (NFL, the Rams bailed to LA) vs. St. Louis Battlehawks. A ram is a sheep (I refuse to look this up). A battlehawk is a bird of prey that, I can only assume, does war.
  • New York Giants (NFL) vs. New York Guardians (XFL). Giants can be either evil or good, while guardians? Inherently good and provide protection.
  • Los Angeles Rams (NFL) vs. Los Angeles Wildcats. Once again… What is a ram? Wildcats are easily understood to be cool and vicious; also, Wildcats is the team name from High School Musical, so this team comes with its own pre-recorded anthem.
  • D.C. [racist name Dan Snyder refuses to change] (NFL); D.C. Defenders (XFL). While “Defenders" is lame, it has the advantage of not being offensive and irresponsible.
  • Houston Texans (NFL) vs. Houston Roughnecks (XFL). The NFL really did name a team for a “person who is from a state.”
  • Dallas Cowboys (NFL) vs. Dallas Renegades (XFL). The cowboys of lore are wholesome and virtuous. Renegades are literally rogue; they’re rebels. I’m sorry but that’s cooler.
  • Seattle Seahawks (NFL) vs. Seattle Dragons (XFL). Dragons are, in my opinion, a WILDLY underused mascot. The on-field costume and insignia potential is simply off the charts. Somehow the Orlando Magic messed this up, but no one needs to repeat its mistakes.

Stadiums: 8/10

The XFL plays in smaller stadiums (mostly for soccer and college football) than the mega-domes of NFL teams, which is nice, because they’re easier to walk around, and you are closer to the action at all times.

How long the game lasts: 10/10

By keeping a running clock, the XFL delivers on its promise that games will last no more than three hours, which is the perfect amount of time to be at a game.

Overall vibe: 100,000,000/10

There’s much to miss in our current sports void, but I’ll miss the XFL most of all. Here’s to a full 2021 schedule, God and Vince McMahon willing.

Unlike canceling the NHL playoffs and March Madness, the XFL suspending its season has basically no implications (aside from the ones on my personal joy). Because the XFL hasn’t existed in nearly 20 years (it enjoyed a debut and final season in 2001), there aren’t any real rankings or rivalries. The champions by default are the undefeated Houston Roughnecks, which makes me happy because I am from Houston, and Roughnecks is a really cool name for a football team (second only to the Seattle Dragons). Players will be paid for the rest of the season, and are allowed to sign with NFL teams as they please. Though, aside from a desire to make exponentially more money, I don’t see why anyone would ever willingly leave the XFL, because the XFL fucking rules.

Sign up for our newsletter to get the best of VICE delivered to your inbox daily.

Follow Hannah Smothers on Twitter.

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dygjeaHannah SmothersCasey JohnstonFootballXFLCoronavirusCOVID-19pandemic
<![CDATA[Renato Moicano is a Jack of All Trades, with Answers for All]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kzdwgw/renato-moicano-jose-aldo-is-jack-of-all-trades-with-answers-for-allFri, 01 Feb 2019 15:30:00 GMTRenato Moicano is not a fighter who presents a single, stand-out problem. No one is writing home about his thunderous right hand, his blindingly fast jab, or his unstoppable double leg takedown. The Brazilian brings a fairly mundane toolkit to his fights but can eye up an opponent and tell you exactly what is needed within a few minutes of sparring. And when Moicano has assessed his man and hit on what is working, it is ruthlessly exploited until his opponent can no longer keep pace. No, Moicano has no standout technique or tactic to set the featherweights of the world quivering in their boots, but he has something much more useful: he has answers.

Even if you are a fairly committed follower of the UFC, Renato Moicano’s surge to prominence in the featherweight division might have caught you by surprise. Moicano arrived in the UFC in December 2014, beating Tom Niinimaki fairly impressively on the undercard of a Fight Night event. Unfortunately, Moicano was taken out of action by injuries and missed the entirety of 2015, and only managed one mundane decision victory in May 2016.

After another year out, Moicano returned to the cage on April 15, 2017 to face the No. 5 ranked featherweight, Jeremy Stephens. It was an opportunity that seemingly came out of nowhere and yet Mociano made good on it. The Brazilian made Stephens look foolish, clipping off crisp jabs, low kicks and combinations before circling away from Stephens’s straight-armed swings. Since then, Moicano has managed to stay healthy and looked impressive boxing up Brian Ortega (before falling into a guillotine choke), and outclassed Calvin Kattar and Cub Swanson in 2018.

There isn’t a lot about Moicano that you can grab onto: none of his weapons are the fastest or the hardest or the crispest in the division, and that might account somewhat for his almost sneaking up on the featherweight top ten. We are touting him as a brilliant striker, yet he hasn’t scored a single knockout. But when you have access to the footage and you can watch one fight after another, the changes Moicano makes from fight to fight are a more exciting indicator of potential than any Zabit Magomedsharipov or Yair Rodriguez jumping spin kick.

Stephens – Lateral Movement, Straight Hitting

Jeremy Stephens’s game is well known. He is going to walk forward and attempt to kick your lead leg very hard, or take your head off by swinging his hands. The problem is that he’s extremely tough and has a pretty good gas tank for someone swinging all their being into every shot. Even the very best fighters in the world have to show they are capable of adapting in order to beat him.

One of the key weaknesses in Stephens’s game is his footwork. He can cut the cage for a while, but tends to get frustrated by direction changes, and when he gets frustrated his ring cutting gets even worse. So Moicano set to work floating around the cage with his feet almost parallel. This was a stark contrast to his usual long, low stance. With his feet level Moicano could side step more effectively. Each time Stephens stepped in he ate Moicano’s jab, then Moicano would circle off into space and Stephens would have to cut the ring all over again.

Of course no one can be perfect all the time, so Moicano did end up at the fence from time to time. But the Brazilian kept his head (and remembered to move it) and then cut tighter angles out to the side. He often did this by stepping across himself, allowing a tight pivot around to face the opponent or permitting him to run straight through into a sprint in the style of Alexander Gustafsson if he felt particularly troubled.

When the judges’ decision was announced, one judge saw it—bizarrely—for Stephens, perhaps because he had been advancing the entire time. The problem is that moving forward while getting lanced by jabs is really only dictating the pace at which you get your ass kicked. But to everyone else it was quite a coup, Moicano was basically unknown and Stephens had just fought a far closer fight against the great Frankie Edgar who was being lined up for a title shot.

Ortega – Catch and Pitch

Unfortunately, Moicano’s path to the top was hindered slightly in his next match where he made the first misstep of his UFC career, against Brian Ortega. The fight started out well for Moicano as he abandoned the mobile style and opted to play catch and pitch with Ortega. Ortega likes to throw hard and one or two at a time, he also likes to attempt to shoulder roll off his opponent’s right hand but does it pretty poorly, leaving his chin up and his shoulder low. So Moicano carried his left forearm upright, ready to catch Ortega’s right hand and immediately return with his own.

Moicano had success returning on Ortega’s right hands but was caught by surprise at just how durable Ortega was. Moicano put over a hundred blows onto Orega’s head but there was very little to show for it, where Ortega had opened up Moicano’s nose pretty badly in one of the opening trades.

It got pretty heated as Moicano forced more and more trades.

Moreover, for all his technical shortcomings, Ortega often shows a talent for the science of striking. By the second round Ortega was sneaking in body punches while Moicano teed off on his head. By the third round, Moicano was breathing hard. A reactive takedown late in the second round had scored Moicano some points and won him some breathing room, but an attempt at the same in round three saw him dragged into the vaunted Ortega guillotine and he was quickly submitted.

The Ortega fight stands as an example of Moicano doing his reconnaissance and not adapting appropriately because he was too invested in his first plan. Moicano found good success with low kicks as Ortega stepped in. He also found Ortega’s body easily when he shot for it in his punching combinations. But he rarely returned to these targets and instead stuck to his guns in swinging for Ortega’s head.

Kattar – Killing the Jab

Calvin Kattar met Moicano coming off a tremendous knockout over Shane Burgos. Kattar was known as a kickboxer but did much of his work floating in behind a jab in order to score a good right hand. Moicano’s task in this fight seemed to be cutting down Kattar’s mobility while mitigating Kattar’s straight hitting. For the early going it was all the usual Moicano check hooks and the odd kick, but Moicano really found his stride when he timed Kattar with low kicks as Kattar stepped in.

The traditional in and out style of boxing cannot be performed without one leg leading the entire body into the opponent’s range, so as that leg stepped, Moicano punted it—either moving his head off line or checking Kattar’s hands with his own as he did so.

Here Moicano demonstrates one of the prettiest techniques in counter kicking—slipping inside of the jab and countering with the right low kick to buckle the opponent’s planting leg.

A few jarring connections as Kattar stepped in and suddenly Kattar wasn’t so mobile. Kattar would follow Moicano around the cage and then Moicano would stop and start checking Kattar’s hands, showing him feinted jabs and straights, and then as Moicano threw a kick from this close range you could almost see in Kattar’s face the disappointment that he had been suckered once again.

A common feature of Moicano fights is distance control. If he is not doing his own hitting, he simply isn’t there. It hardly seems sporting but that is the way good striking is done. So if Moicano stands still in front of his opponent, you can be pretty much assured there is a trap being set.

Moicano’s movement and distance work against Kattar was broken up by periods where he would stand in front of Kattar, heavy on the front foot in his long stance, and extend his right hand to either check Kattar’s lead hand or obstruct the path of the jab. Obstructing the path of the jab is a great trick that you will see all the time in MMA—it looks like the fighter is open for the left hook behind his extended right hand, but the entire point is to stifle the quickest punch the opponent has, and being ready to react to the slower one that is being offered up.

After eating a couple of those low kicks as he stepped in, Kattar became more cautious in these little pawing exchanges, and then Moicano was free to skip up and hack away with the inside low kick.

When obstructing a jabber’s best weapon, a fighter has to know that the moment his checking hand slips from that path, the moment his opponent’s lead fist is shown a glimmer of sunlight, that jab is going to fly out of its own accord. So rather than simply shutting down an opponent’s jab, a fighter might do even more damage to his opponent’s confidence through carefully choosing when he is going to allow his opponent to jab. Moicano’s right hand was rarely off of the line of Kattar’s jab, but when it was, Kattar’s jab would come like clockwork and Moicano would immediately slip to the elbow side of it and return with a counter right hand.

A final crafty look was Moicano’s work from southpaw. He would occasionally switch stances and then lead with a right uppercut. This served to raise the head of Kattar and stand him upright. Following with a body kick, a leg kick, or a high kick, Moicano was able to score good connections on Kattar throughout the fight. This use of the southpaw right uppercut to both close the distance and stand the opponent up was a staple of the great Nak Muay, Yodsanklai.

Other Habits

Of course there are features of Moicano’s game which are constant from fight to fight. As we remarked earlier, what he does best is adjust the ratios to suit his opponent. On Saturday night, Moicano faces Jose Aldo—the most accomplished featherweight in MMA history and while Moicano deserves this opportunity he has by no means been flawless. Moicano’s check hooks are a double edged sword—he scores many of his best connections by leaning back and whipping out the left hook as his opponent chases him, but he also exposes himself horribly when he does so.

Moicano’s bad habit is the same that Francis Ngannou had when he first came to the UFC. He has his timing down on the check hook and has good success on it, but rather than slide back with his feet or drop his right foot back and lean back into his stance, he will often come up out of his stance and lean back only at the waist. This means that there are many, many awkward occasions in Moicano fights where the opponent is almost on top of him and he is swinging with his hands low and performing a limbo. (It is worth noting that Ngannou fixed this habit and you can see him perform the same technique with much neater mechanics and while maintaining his stance against Andrei Arlovski.)

Like Ngannou, Moicano will pair his check hook with a right uppercut. It’s a good combination because if the opponent senses the hook he will normally drop his head and crunch down to protect himself, then the bus driver uppercut clacks his teeth together.

In the above example, Moicano actually shifts off to his left side as he throws the check hook, taking him into a southpaw stance to land a right hook/uppercut. We all recall this sneaky southpaw hook from the ninety degree angle as Mike Tyson’s favorite punch, but it is hardly a modern invention. Here is Georges Carpentier (world light heavyweight champion from 1920 to 1922) demonstrating the exact same shift to line up the right hand.

Moicano’s back-leaning check hooks are the most worrying because should Moicano go into a lean like this and his opponent instead show him a double jab and commit to covering ground before letting go the right hand, Moicano will have nowhere to go when that right hand comes.

And even those shifts into southpaw out to the side have their problems. Brian Ortega caught Moicano with clotheslines every time he stepped out to the right in this manner with his head up in the air and that is how Moicano got bloodied up in that fight in the first place.

While the counter hooks work wonderfully when Moicano can get opponents reaching for his head, his Achilles heel in the Ortega fight turned out to be his body. You can’t lean your gut out of reach. Moicano is a gangly guy for the weight class and drives a hard pace to begin with, a bit of body work could slow his feet and cause him all kinds of trouble. Jose Aldo’s commitment to bodywork has been sporadic, but after he handed Jeremy Stephens a very rare knockout loss with a liver shot, you have to think he’ll be coming into this fight with a new appreciation for hitting the midriff.

We have only really hit the main points of Moicano’s striking, and there is a lot of clever stuff he does that we just don’t have time to cover in depth (marching double kick combinations like an old school American kickboxer, upward elbows and so on) but it is worth noting just how smooth Moicano has looked on the ground in his UFC fights. He hasn’t scored a single career knockout, but that statistic hides the fact that he has hurt a lot of opponents and then methodically finished them on the ground. You will remember this as B.J. Penn’s typical gameplan, but there’s a touch of Penn in Moicano’s top game as well. When met with butterfly guard, Moicano will clear one knee, drop to a hip and then simply step over the other hook straight into mount.

In his most recent fight, against Cub Swanson, Moicano set to work establishing the jab and frustrating Swanson who was forced to leap to close the distance. A stiff jab sent Swanson to the mat and Moicano quickly found himself in the mount. As a Swanson fan it is sometimes more fun to watch him work hurt because his ground game is something quite wily—constantly working back to half butterfly guard and hitting stand ups and sweep attempts from there. As Moicano postured up to strike, Swanson sat straight up into him, scooting back on his hands and sneaking a knee in to accomplish butterfly half-guard. But even against a guard player as slick as Swanson, Moicano sat to his hip again and swept the leg over to mount once more. Eventually Moicano was able to subdue Swanson with a rear naked choke.

UFC on ESPN+ 2 is an absolutely stacked card of fights for the educated fight fan. From Moraes vs. Assuncao to Oliveira vs. Teymur to Alves vs. Griffin, there are some seriously compelling match ups between high level technicians scheduled. It should tell you something that instead of covering all of those we chose to focus entirely on one fighter today and on his style rather than the specifics of his upcoming bout.

Renato Moicano has shown the ability to spot openings and ruthlessly exploit them, changing his game on the fly without instruction, and even among the elite that remains a rare skill. He has the makings of something very special and it is important that you know that, and in turn that you know just how good Jose Aldo is if he can, at this advanced stage in his career, beat such a prospect.

Jack Slack wrote the biography Notorious: The Life and Fights of Conor McGregor and hosts the Fights Gone By podcast.

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kzdwgwJack SlackSean NewellMMASportscombat sportsUFCrenato moicanoJosé AldoVICE Sports
<![CDATA[The Curious Case of Tony Parker]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/8xygbp/the-curious-case-of-tony-parkerFri, 01 Feb 2019 14:30:00 GMTThe below has been excerpted from this week's Outlet Pass, to get caught up on everything else you need to know in the NBA this week read the rest of the column here.

Tony Parker isn’t the efficient swashbuckler he used to be, but as an established, entirely independent presence off Charlotte’s bench, he’s swerving his way through a surprisingly satisfying season that’s more impressive (and unusual) than it looks.

Now 36 years old, an age when players typically depend on teammates to do most of the heavy lifting, Parker’s literally more self-reliant than ever before. His usage is the highest it’s been in five years, his assist rate is highest it’s been in six years, and, most notably, a higher percentage of Parker’s baskets are unassisted than ever before. In fact, the only players who’re asked to create more for themselves are Chris Paul and James Harden. Wild.

Only seven percent of Parker’s shots at the rim have been assisted this season. Eleven years ago that number was 20 percent, which is the second-lowest it’s ever been in his career. Parker no longer sizzles down the floor for transition layups, but the guy is still able to turn defenders into traffic cones and get where he wants to go.

And when he can’t get all the way to the basket, Parker’s floater is still a machete.

Chew on this stat: Willie Hernangomez has passed the ball to Parker 336 times this season—more than any other Hornet—and only three were an assist. To those who thought Parker was washed, the man is doing so much more than treading water in a situation that banks on his minutes.

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8xygbpMichael PinaSean Newellthe outlet passnbaBasketballSportsCharlotte HornetsTony ParkerVICE Sports
<![CDATA[Truth, Justise, and the Three-Point Play]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/mbzv4n/truth-justise-and-the-three-point-playFri, 01 Feb 2019 14:15:00 GMT The below has been excerpted from this week's Outlet Pass, to get caught up on everything else you need to know in the NBA this week read the rest of the column here.

Floor General Justise is a unique phenomenon that was created when Goran Dragic went down with a knee injury about a month ago. We’re a few weeks into Miami’s by-any-means experiment and Winslow looks more comfortable by the game. Since December 22, he’s averaging 15, 5, and 5 while correctly analyzing defensive schemes, tossing picturesque alley-oops, and even finishing with his right hand!

His quickness attacking off a ball screen still catches opposing bigs off balance, and Miami’s admirable drive-and-kick identity feels like it’s mutated into something even more distinct than before. But while “put the ball in Winslow’s hands then surround him with competent shooters/playmakers/lob targets and see what happens” is a fun idea, an even more significant development to keep an eye on over the long-term is his outside shot.

Not only is Winslow more comfortable behind the three-point line than ever before, but the carefree yet focused flick of his wrist has streamlined his developing offensive repertoire. He no longer murders promising possessions by hesitating for a beat too long after someone passes him the ball, or mulls over options that evaporate as he considers them. It’s the type of leap Miami has prayed for, and may have already widened the scope of what he can ultimately become. Winslow made 38 percent of his threes last season, but his volume was low (3.9 tries per 100 possessions) and he entered this year shooting 31.4 percent for his career.

Right now his volume is up to 6.1 attempts per 100 possessions and so is his accuracy (39.4 percent). “Drastic improvement!” Heat forward Kelly Olynyk joked after I told him the difference between last year’s percentage and what he’s shooting right now. “He’ll be shooting like forty-seven percent in year ten.”

Scale and situation matter, of course, and most of his teammates (including Olynyk) are taking notice. “He’s knocking down shots left, right, and center,” Olynyk continued. “I mean, he’s making multiple threes every single game now...He’s trusting his shot and going to it early. That’s something he hasn’t really done in the past, I don’t think.”

As someone who’s inevitable responsibilities on a good team are off the ball as often as on, Winslow’s ability to spread the floor really matters. In those situations he hasn’t seen defenses universally treat him differently, but there have been subtle shifts here and there that he’s still getting used to.

“Every game is different,” Winslow told VICE Sports. “There’s some games where they just leave me open and I just shoot it. Some games they close out, I still shoot it. Some days they close out, I drive. It’s just about making the right reads, but I think defenses are definitely closing out harder this year.”

Operating pick-and-rolls, Winslow is more willing to pull up when defenders duck under the screen (inside and behind the arc) than he used to be, and even though his percentages on those shots don’t rival Steph Curry, they’re trending in the right direction. Heading into this year he never attempted more than 48 pull-up shots in a season. He’s already jacked up 91 of them this year. (Going one step further, Winslow made one pull-up three in his first three NBA seasons. Right now he’s 4-for-17.)

“Defenses are much more concerned and aware of where I am but guys still are trying to go under on me,” he said. “That’s gonna be my thing for a long time is going under the screen so, just becoming more comfortable with that as time goes on, but I don’t think that’s going to change this year.”

Winslow is still only 22 years old, he just signed an extremely team-friendly three-year, $39 million extension (there’s a team option on the third year!), and he’s evolving in various ways that makes him ideal in just about any context. The swelling confidence in his three-point shot may prove to be more important than anything else.

“We’re going to push him out of his comfort zone to help him continue to grow,” Erik Spoelstra said. “But he loves it. That’s when he feels most alive.”

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<![CDATA[What is Going on With Russell Westbrook?]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/qvybmm/what-is-going-on-with-russell-westbrookFri, 01 Feb 2019 14:00:00 GMT The below has been excerpted from this week's Outlet Pass, to get caught up on everything else you need to know in the NBA this week read the rest of the column here.

Most of the conversation about Westbrook’s season has deservedly centered around his crumpling efficiency. Now 30, his True Shooting percentage is 47.7 (about five points lower than the 30th-ranked New York Knicks) and, well, feast your eyes on this bad boy:

1548975492436-Screen-Shot-2019-01-31-at-55742-PM
via NBA.com/Stats

But look past the porous shooting and watching Westbrook is still not quite the same experience it used to be. He’s slightly less selfish in a way that’s unclear whether that’s good or bad. Take this stat: Westbrook is ending his drives with a pass way more than he normally does. Right now, he passes the ball on 51.8 percent of his drives, which, among all players who average at least 10 drives per game, ranks fourth behind Ricky Rubio, Ish Smith, and Joe Ingles. If you’re having trouble imagining the significance of this number, think about what Chris Paul looks like whenever he takes off for the basket. Westbrook’s pass percentage is slightly higher than Paul’s. That’s not nothing! (Last year, Westbrook’s pass percentage on drives was 35.9. Two seasons before that it was 33.7. In 2015, it was 30.0.)

Now, Westbrook’s assist rate and field goal percentage on drives are more or less consistent with his recent past, and there’s nothing inherently terrible about him moving the ball more often than not. But it’s still curious. Westbrook-ian rage doesn’t yield perfect results, but lousy things happen when he disconnects from that identity. There are countless examples in every game and here's one. Like, short of accusing him of hunting assists, why doesn't Westbrook finish through Nikola Vucevic here instead of forcing a difficult pass to Nerlens Noel?

Generally, given Oklahoma City’s non-existent outside shooting, this sort of makes sense. Maybe help defenders are able to rotate earlier and make Westbrook be a facilitator more often than he should? But the Thunder were even less effective from deep two seasons ago and that didn’t stop Westbrook from going ballistic during an MVP campaign in which he averaged over 20 drives per game. (Also—this may mean nothing!—but the percentage of Westbrook’s dunks that are assisted is up to 54.5 this season. Last year it was 40.4, and in 2017 it was 34.7.)

Paul George wasn’t around then, and perhaps his MVP presence tilts Westbrook’s (and the defense’s) thought process just a little bit. It also makes you wonder if some sort of decline is starting to materialize. Physically, Westbrook looks ageless. He’s still able to turn his body into a pole vault and his field goal percentage at the rim is higher than ever before. But his increased passing percentage on drives without seeing that translate to more assists may be an open wound over his greatest strength.

An optimist will say he’s steadily maturing into life as a more refined floor general. Or that what he does during the regular season is less critical than how aggressive he’ll be in the playoffs. Maybe he just doesn’t want to get fouled as frequently as he used to. (Westbrook has been curiously bad at the line this season.) I have no idea what all this means and one stat doesn’t come close to painting an entire canvas, particularly when Westbrook is averaging 21.7 points, a league-high 10.8 assists, and a career-high 10.9 rebounds, but it feels somewhat important. Or maybe it’s not. (I’m so confused.)

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<![CDATA[Knicks Trade Kristaps Porzingis, Change NBA Forever]]>https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/8xygbx/knicks-trade-kristaps-porzingis-change-nba-foreverThu, 31 Jan 2019 22:49:08 GMTThe most sensible reaction to today’s blockbuster trade between the New York Knicks and Dallas Mavericksis an exploding head emoji, particularly if you’re fond of the Knicks and care for their well being. Kristaps Porzingis, Courtney Lee, Trey Burke, and Tim Hardaway Jr. have been sent to Dallas for DeAndre Jordan, Dennis Smith Jr., Wesley Matthews, and two future first-round picks. This is seismic.

Porzingis—coming off his first All-Star season at the age of 22 and far and away the best and most important player in this deal—has not played a minute since he tore his ACL 53 weeks ago. He’s also a burgeoning star with tantalizing ability and unteachable physical gifts, and the Knicks essentially just decided to use him as a sweetener so they could shed two pricey contracts from their books.

Speaking as someone who really likes DSJ and believes giving up on him this early is borderline criminal, the second-year point guard plus two expiring contracts is not enough for Porzingis. And when judged in a vacuum (or hindsight, potentially), this deal is ludicrous. On its face, the Knicks have compounded past mistakes in an attempt to dig themselves out of a hole that was partially created by a previous administration. It may wind up being a colossal mismanagement.

But this trade can’t be judged in a vacuum; we won’t know if it will be remembered as Peak Knicks or an iconic move that turned everything around until July 1st. The clear reason New York opted to chainsaw through their lone franchise pillar is simple: cap flexibility. That doesn’t sound very sexy, but the Knicks now have enough room to fit two max free agents beside the young pieces that remain (Mitchell Robinson, Kevin Knox, Frank Ntilikina, Smith Jr., and their own first-round pick—the picks Dallas owe them can’t be conveyed until 2021, at the earliest).

New York’s decision to go all in as a major player in free agency may impact several teams, including the Boston Celtics, Toronto Raptors, Los Angeles Clippers, Los Angeles Lakers, Philadelphia Sixers, and Golden State Warriors. The Knicks can now sell MSG, David Fizdale, and an open canvas to Kyrie Irving, Kevin Durant, Klay Thompson, Jimmy Butler, and Kawhi Leonard. Technically, any two of them can team up to form a powerful dynamic duo, but Irving and Durant (both who’ve been linked to New York via the NBA’s never-ending rumor mill in the last 12 months) are the pair Scott Perry and Steve Mills likely have their attention on.

The range of outcomes here are vast, and the domino effect may be savage. The Knicks either create a super team or remain a clown show. It’s illegal for them to have any type of agreement with the players listed above, but this is the NBA and shadowy back-channel conversations are nothing new. It’s hard to rationalize New York’s mindset without assuming they’re abnormally confident in their ability to land two major stars. Boston and Golden State should be a little nervous. The other aforementioned teams should be annoyed. (Butler has another opening to use as leverage should Philly not offer him a five-year max.)

If the Knicks swing and miss on everything it will be extremely Knicks. All they did was forfeit Porzingis’s prime for a second-year player whose trade value was never high enough to land someone that good. It’s here where we can’t overstate how major this coup may be for Dallas. I wrote in this week’s Outlet Pass that the Mavs should be attracted to DeMarcus Cousins in free agency. That ship has sailed with Lee and THJ now on their books, but assuming Porzingis backs off the wild intention to play his first year back from a surgically-repaired knee on a qualifying offer, it also allows this sentence to read as something less than outrageous fan fiction: “Next year, and the ten after that, Porzingis and Luka Doncic will be All-Star teammates.” That reality would be sweet for everyone involved, and KP should take a deep breath and realize he just won the lottery. Doncic and Porzingis are a natural fit, and it's almost unfair to supply this year's Rookie of the Year with that much gravity at the five throughout his prime. (If Porzingis actually leaves then the Mavericks will regret not entering this summer with cap space, but they also employ a 19-year-old prodigy so whatever they’ll get over this soon enough.

If the Knicks don’t land two players who can immediately elevate them to a tier of sustainable championship contention, it’ll be interesting to see how their front office recovers. Will they use their lottery pick, act like nothing major happened, and then continue on with their rebuild to nowhere? It’s possible Porzingis threatened them with his qualifying offer, and given his uncertain health and looming contract situation, finding proper value at this time was never easy. But still. Come on, man.

(Side note: Matthews and Jordan are not bad and will also not end this season wearing Knicks jerseys. They can absolutely help a playoff team.)

Both teams took a risk, but one is run by James Dolan and is either blatantly tampering or more arrogant that it has any right to be, while the other just acquired Kristaps freaking Porzingis.

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