Will You Please Be Quiet Please, or Why I Hate Rick Reilly

To a great degree the modern spectator is also the modern reader, the frequenter of FanGraphs or ESPN Insider or Grantland, the reader for whom Sports Illustrated is a quaint throwback to an era of pre-Internet innocence, to a time before irony, sabermetrics, or the postmodern imbrication of sport with popular (i.e., entertainment) culture. Sports Illustrated is something filched from your father’s toilet stand, something you lost your virginity to. For such a reader, the following reflection (Why I Hate Rick Reilly) may well seem like shooting fish in a barrel, like a karate chop to the…

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