The Center of the Sports Take Universe

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A quiver empty of arrows. A bow broken in two. A string pulled too hard, too long. For years, we believe that in the battle of sports takes, that takes were a renewable source of energy, like coal in mountains or oil in deserts or those strawberry candies that always appear in glass jars in a grandmother’s house.

Now, we know better.

Or do we?

We knew that when Run of Play got mothballed and Brian, deservedly so, got the time, money and resources to write any story he wants, that the soccerscribe universe would feel the absence of said site and said person. You can I can whine about the British dailies, but only Brian could consistently take their faux-reporting and twist them into consistently hysterical and whimsical takes.

Yet change is inevitable and all good flows and ebbs and some shit or the other. So, like. I’ve been asking myself as of late: do the best of takes come from original reporting, the mud-wading and dirty laundry-hanging allowing for a better birds’ eye view in the end? Or should we start with the whimsical, the flippant, the sardonic and just kinda pay lip service to facts?

I love both accountability journalism and light-hearted jokes at people who sometimes take themselves too seriously, and even legit serious sports “debate at times.” So I got online and cyberstalking the former Futfanatico collaborator Dr. Moschlavious Gumperteer, the pioneering content huckster behind the FutFeed week here on the site and the short-lived but immensely popular faux-online journalism school “FutFail Online University.”

Dr. M pretended not to know me, but then laughed at my question. He laughed at how I broke down prose and writing and fiction and non-fiction. He laughed because he knew there was one simple answer to what I was really getting at, that moment when the writer cannot find his or her muse no matter how many corners of the house he or she scans.

The BreitBart Sports Vertical. This is the logical endpoint for all things sports. And history.

But Dr. M, I implored. Is that not too harsh? Is that not a gross overreaction to the loss of reading Brian’s daily writing on soccer, a moment that ended about seven years ago but is still felt acutely by many?

BREIT-BART. SPORTS. COLUMNS. OP-EDS. It must happen. If not today, tomorrow.

But but Dr. M, my palms sweated profusely, can we not counter the conservative sports plus hot takes with takes of our own so hot that they would melt molten lava? Or block these assholes on Twitter?


Never, Dr M. This is why our past partnerships have always fallen apart near the end of April, and always only ever started on April 1st, the same day as Fool’s Day because I could never take you seriously. You speak…..too much….truth.


Dr. M I just know that you are wrong, that at some level you must fail, that your ideas lack spirit and warmth and if entropy swallows us all, if a comet crashes into the Earth and wipes off all forms of life, that I will point a finger at you just before said apocalypse and say “Ha, you may have gotten more pageviews, but…” [Conversation interrupted by intense waves of flames that disintegrate all living beings]


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