There's an old quote deriding sportswriting, and it goes something like, "The sports section is the playground of a newspaper." Writing about bats and balls and the people who dedicate their lives to children's games is silly, it's saying, a venture not up to par with the seriousness of the rest of the day's news.

To that, we say: You're absolutely right.

Sports is certainly a playground for writers. It's a place where we get do to big, dumb, stupid things. A place where we can tease someone over his ridiculous haircut, where we can show off and mess around for hours on end. It's fun to write about sports and all of the amazing, outlandish and downright ridiculous things that we witness every day. That fun is why we come out and do it again and again.

But the playground is also where we tend to have our most formative experiences. They're not part of our formal education, but they stick with us nevertheless. The playground is where we make new friends. Where we grapple with injustice and every once in a while gather up the courage to take on the schoolyard bully. It's the playground — it's sports — where things can get messy and put us to the test. We write sports because it's fun. But sometimes we also write because it's necessary.

It's always instrumental to take one last look back before we forge ahead. If we've spent the last two weeks reflecting on the 2012 year in sports, then consider the following a reflection on the 2012 year in us. It's the 10 best stories published at Began in '96 over the last year, as selected by the editors, as well as the five most-read pieces. You'll find an assortment of reflective essays, furious arguments and in-depth analysis; the kind of diversity of subject and style that we think keeps this site strong.

We hope you'll read all of them, but more than that, we hope that at least one will grab you, shake you up and deposit you back in your seat, a little bit of a different person from when you started.

Much gratitude goes to our numerous contributors, whose stories consistently knock us on our ass. Ten stories is far too few to capture all of the great writing that goes on here.

And a thank you beyond words to everyone for reading, for joining us on the playground. Here's to quality sportswriting and quality people.

-- Adam and Joe

2012's Best of Began in '96: Adam

1. Exceptional healing: Johan, the Mets and the ghosts of '06
"The Mets have their milestone. In Santana, they have their hero. And thanks to him, the past no longer stands in the way of the future."

2. RGIII's one-season revolution
"In the NFL, though, change is as fleeting as it is common. The true test of the RGIII revolution is whether it sticks around."

3. Steel city savior
"Thank you Andrew, for reminding us that we’re all winning in the Steel City. That we’re alive."

4. Mayhem on the ice
"When games get chippy, both checking lines hit the ice. Two guys go at it, and that’s the end. That’s how it’s supposed to happen, at least."

5. Lions in the boardroom, lambs on the field
"Samson is a lap dog masquerading as the Alpha dog, wrapped in a Napoleon complex and weighed down by the massive chip on his shoulder."

2012's Best of Began in '96: Joe

1. Thursday with Jerry

"Before long, he's smiling again. It's a Thursday night, and Jerry is a student at the only college he ever wanted to attend."

2. The great stadium hustle

"Most states and cities already can't afford to throw hundreds of millions of dollars toward something that doesn’t grow the surrounding community. When the tradeoff is taking money away from funding for education, road and bridge maintenance, airports and so on, the decision should be easy. But regardless of the mounting evidence, the same thing happens almost every time."

3. Surrounding Yeardley and George, a deafening silence

"In the spring of 2010, Yeardley Love's ex-boyfriend broke into her room, beat her and left her to die. She would spend her final moments face down on her bed in a pool of blood, alone. She was 22 years old."

4. Can't knock the hustle

"Despite all the evidence, we fans still operate under this facade of loyalty. We recognize that sports is just another industry, but we still want our players to feel the same connection to us that we do to them."

5. The First Annual Began in '96 Super Bowl Drinking Game

"Someone tells you the commercials are the best part of the Super Bowl-- drink until you can forgive them"

2012's Most Read at Began in '96

1. Bryce Harper: Man/Child

"It was a man's hit, decisive and direct. Harper read two all the way and pulled into second easily."

2. INFOGRAPHIC: RGIII's dominating performance by the numbers

"We now know this much: Robert Griffin III has world-class speed."

3. At Real Madrid, Mourinho's power fails

"His intense, almost fanatical addiction winning and success made him the most sought-after coach for big clubs needing quick success. But Mourinho burns almost everything he touches."

4. Thursday with Jerry

5. Carlos, I'm sorry

"But worse than all that is the realization that we, as Mets fans, wasted our years with Beltran."


Began in '96 is edited by Adam Cancryn and Joe Schackman, and features contributions from more than 15 writers.

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Via The Knicks Wall

By Joe Schackman

The year that Jeremy Lin captivated a nation and brought one lapsed Knicks fan back into the fold. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

2012 A.D. taught me one important lesson. I’m a shitty Knicks fan.

During the most recent dark age of the storied New York franchise, I was nowhere to be found. Isiah Thomas was busy stuffing his roster with the likes of Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis and Zach Randolph, and I was busy doing... well... other things. The Knicks were lifeless, rudderless and couldn’t get out of their own way. I was in no mood to go along for that ride. Sorry, New York, but things were complicated. It was me, not you.

Yet lo and behold, the orange and blue eventually found their way back into my life. First Amar’e came to town, and that piqued my interest. Then the excitement grew when Melo arrived home. But the one who finally convinced me to give it another go was not one of the Knicks’ superstars. It was a slightly awkward, couch-dwelling kid named Jeremy Lin.

At least half the adjectives in the English language have been slapped onto Linsanity, but none have stuck. It’s still a hard concept to express in words. I mean, really think about what happened. A 23-year-old Asian American, Ivy League grad, who even the biggest basketball diehards had never heard of, suddenly finds himself at the epicenter of the sports world. Look at his resume and you’d think he had a better chance of owning an NBA team than running its offense. And yet here he was.

And there I was, in at the ground level, having casually turned on the February Knicks-Nets game that would put Lin on the map. He carried the team, scoring 25 en route to a win. Then in his first professional start he scored 28 against the Jazz. He was must-see TV, and I was giving a crap again. Rushing home to watch games. Yelling about how Lin defied all of sports’ truisms. He was a throwback to the time when some anonymous young kid could stumble off the farm with a 95-mile-per-hour fastball and a ticket to the Majors. Lin was the kind of out-of-nowhere star that you simply don’t see anymore, and because of that, I cared whether the Knicks won or lost for the first time in a long time.

The hyperbole surrounding Lin’s play was intense, of course. Everyone knew that what he was doing was unsustainable. But at the same time, his success wasn’t all smoke and mirrors. You don’t fall ass backwards into 38 points against Kobe and the Lakers. You don’t hit a game-winning, buzzer-beating shot against the Raptors. Not if you don’t have some serious chops. Lin played the best ball of his life, yes, but he did it long enough to prove he belonged.

Then came the injury, the early playoff exit and then the off-season move to the Rockets. I was crushed. I’d grown attached to the Lin-led Knicks, and it didn’t matter what it took to keep that going. I could justify the cap hits and wish away Jim Dolan’s money like it was nothing. The men in charge saw it differently. Soon Lin was packing his bags.

As 2012 turned to 2013, the Knicks showed that they are better than ever. Their play is still infectious, but without Lin it hasn’t been the same for me. Maybe it never will. Maybe I’ll always look back at 2012 as the year that set the bar too high, that haunts my fandom.

Or maybe I’ll just stop caring about the Knicks again. It worked the first time.

Joe Schackman is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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Via The Urban Daily

By Frank Flores

The year that LeBron won everything. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

Ask even the most casual sports fan in a few years about the most memorable sports moments of 2012, and you’ll get a bunch of different answers. But the one I think will stay with everybody for the next few decades and even longer is that 2012 was the year that LeBron James won his first NBA championship. It was the year that the best player in the league ticked the top task off his to-do list, the year that the King received his crown. And when he was done with that, he went ahead and won his third MVP and second Olympic gold medal for good measure. LeBron simply had one of the greatest years in basketball history.

The title was the culmination of a journey for the most hyped man in sports. From gaining national fame in high school to going first overall to his hometown Cavaliers, to winning three MVPs in four seasons and uttering those poorly planned words about “talents” and “South Beach,” high expectations surrounded and engulfed LeBron. No matter how well he played, it was never quite good enough for our liking. Nine years into his NBA career, that finally changed.

***

The game always came easily to LeBron, that much is for sure. But there’s a crucial sliver of difference in the NBA between playing the game well and playing the game successfully. Nowhere was that more apparent than in the aftermath of the Heat’s 2011 finals loss to the Dallas Mavericks. LeBron was in disbelief. He’d worked so hard to get to this point, and then when it mattered most, came up small. The numbers were there, and the Heat were clearly the most talented in the league. But numbers and talent only went so far. LeBron would have to improve as a leader and teammate; he’d have to drag his squad through that championship barrier.

When the lockout-shortened next season began, the Heat promptly beat the Mavericks and then took off from there. They cruised to a 46-20 record that put them second in the Eastern Conference. LeBron led the charge, putting up typical LeBron/MVP numbers (27.1 points, 7.9 rebounds, 6.2 assists) and shooting 53% from the field. More than any other year, though, this season wasn’t about the award.

LeBron, and by extension, the Heat, hit full stride in the playoffs. A 4-1 series win against the Knicks. Down 2-1 to the Pacers, he put up 40/18/9 to tie that series. Two games later, it was over. In the Eastern Conference Finals, a 45/15/5 night staved off elimination. By comparison, game seven was a formality. LeBron, and by extension, the Heat, were back in the finals.

This time, Miami faced Kevin Durant and the Oklahoma City Thunder. The Heat dropped the first game, and those familiar whispers got louder. Nine years, and no ring to show for all that work. LeBron stamped them out, and quick. It’d been nine years, he didn’t have time to play around. A series that many thought would go the distance went just five. There were competitive moments, but rarely competitive games. LeBron in the deciding game racked up a triple double, and finished the series averaging 30.3 points, 9.7 rebounds and 5.6 assists. The burden lifted, the whispers melted away. Finals MVP. Check. NBA championship. Check plus.

***

For many, that’d be a great year’s work. But days later, LeBron was off to London to play for the Olympic team. On a squad full of the best players in the world, he was the best of the best, and also the most versatile. LeBron started out of position at power forward, and against Spain even tooled around a bit at center. He scored at will, and yet knew when to take a back seat to the rest of his fellow all-stars. Like the MVP race and NBA finals, the gold medal at some point became an inevitability. LeBron became just the second player ever to win the regular season and finals MVPs, NBA championship and Olympic gold in the same year. In late 2012, he added Sports Illustrated Sportsman of the Year to that haul.

Perhaps best of all, though, he closed the book on the Old LeBron, the one with all the numbers and none of the accomplishments. The one who played the game well, but not successfully. Here was LeBron James, triumphant and unburdened, a king with his crown at the end of a truly terrific year.

Frank Flores is a contributor for Began in '96, and writes about the Knicks at Why is it taking so long.

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Via Examiner

By Burl Rolett

The interception that altered NFL history, solved a lockout and ultimately never existed. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

2012 was a rough year for The Shield.

A botched bounty investigation wrecked Roger Goodell’s remaining credibility among the players; the Jets lost their iconic fan to the kind of hostile stadium atmosphere that's made NFL games R-rated events; and safety concerns continued to threaten football’s long-term viability. 

But the league's most memorable story came all the way back in week three, when Packers safety M.D. Jennings picked off a desperation heave by the Seahawks' Russell Wilson. 

With eight seconds remaining in the game and the Seahawks trailing 12-7, Wilson took the snap and rolled left. He set his feet and unleashed a 40-yard Hail Mary as time expired. Receiver Golden Tate pushed off of cornerback Sam Shields in the back of the end zone, managing to get a hand on the pass just after Jennings did. Tate wrapped his arms around the ball as the two went to the ground and the much-maligned replacement refs rushed in to make the final call of their NFL careers. 

“Touchdown,” signaled the side judge. The back judge at the same time signaled for a timeout, though the clock showed triple zeros. Packers cornerback Jarrett Bush, the only one to get the call right, signaled interception and touchback. 

The ruling on the field was a touchdown by the NFL’s simultaneous catch rule, a situation that ESPN's broadcasters claimed was not reviewable. They would have been correct if the catch occurred in the field of play. In the end zone, it was a different story. Yet the replacement refs were just as clueless, and the initial ruling was upheld. Seahawks win. 

The sports world had its next Don Denkinger moment. The judges from June's controversial Manny Pacquiao-Timothy Bradley fight, no longer the year's least competent officials, could relax. 

This call was far worse. 

The Cardinals could have gotten three more outs to clinch the 1985 World Series in spite of Denkinger’s miss, and boxers understand the inherent risk in letting someone else decide their fight.

The Packers, on the other hand, were just pure out of luck. 

As I sat basking in the chaos of that Monday night, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Goodell had seemingly got what he deserved after weeks of fighting with the real referees, and Green Bay's misfortune catapulted my Chicago Bears into first place.



I called a Packers fan to simultaneously brag and apologize. The game cost him half a bag of sunflower seeds and his girlfriend, who was currently vacuuming seeds and shells off of her dormitory floor.

Eventually I became a little more empathetic. First for my friend, who had some serious damage control to do. Then for the gamblers who bought the then-tantalizing three-point spread the Packers gave the Seahawks. And finally, for the Packers. This game would undoubtedly have playoff implications. 

The loss dropped Green Bay to 1-2, with a tough road ahead of them. In a 16-game season, no team can afford to take a loss when they've earned a win; imagine watching your baseball team drop 10 straight thanks to two weeks of poor officiating. 

Sure enough, that early-season mistake left them a half-game behind the 49ers and the NFC's second seed by season's end. Now, rather than hosting San Francisco on a week's rest, they'll head to Candlestick Park and the 49ers' 6-1-1 home record. 

The Seahawks, meanwhile, are a different story. They barreled into the playoffs and have now won eight straight, relying on that old "three yards and a cloud of dust" style we'd been told was all but obsolete in this pass-happy league. It's part of a certain bravado that surrounds them, an arrogance that you can't help but hate to love. 

Maybe it's because they're tucked away in the Pacific Northwest, a region often ignored and far removed from the rest of the sporting world. Maybe it's because Russell Wilson is one of the more unlikely rookie quarterbacks to have made it this far. Maybe it's because head coach Pete Carroll is perpetually wearing the frat-boy smirk of a man dancing one step ahead of trouble. Whatever it is, the Seahawks have that magnetic swagger, the kind that draws people in even as they shake their heads in disgust. 

I can’t be sure whether Seattle carried that swagger into week three, but they certainly left with it. Asked postgame if he saw Tate’s “catch,” Wilson smiled, shrugged and chuckled to himself. 

“It was simultaneous, so tie goes to the runner, right?” 

After a two-season minor league baseball career, Wilson knows better. The phrase is a myth. The tie doesn't go to the runner, it goes to the umpire, the highly-trained arbiter entrusted with determining the game's crucial moments. That Monday night in week three, the umpire was so wrong it brought two warring factions back to the table. The NFL and referees resolved their dispute, the scabs returned to their high school fields and arena leagues, and normalcy returned. Both teams made the playoffs, and all seemed fixed. 

But unless the Packers take the scenic route to the Super Bowl, there will always be a question of what might have been. Or more accurately, what should have been. It’s a tiny asterisk amended to this NFL football season, and a classic sports story that will live on long after Super Bowl XLVIII.

Burl Rolett is a contributor for Began in '96. He writes regularly about the Chicago Bears for Grabowskis in Exile.

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Via USA Today

By Jason Bacaj

It was only one season, but boy, what a season. The RGIII-led Redskins engineered the turnaround of the year and surged into the playoffs. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

I wish I had a picture of the faces on all the people at my house when the Redskins won the NFC East. I wish I could take that feeling, bottle it up and take a sip any time I’m feeling down. I’d keep a little vial of it around my neck so emergency personnel could inject it directly into my aorta and bring me back to life, if need be.

Watching the Redskins capture the division for the third time in my life while surrounded by Dallas fans was glorious and amazing and easily one of the best sports moments of 2012. And because I can’t help but gloat a little bit more… to all the Cowboys fans still clinging to that “America’s Team” moniker: Child, please. You must not have seen this. Forget America’s Team, Robert Griffin III is America’s quarterback.

This year marked the complete turnaround of an NFL franchise that had seen so little success for so long. The Redskins went from worst to first, and while a significant portion of the credit goes to our Black Jesus under center, more encouraging was that much of what the team built over the past two years started to pay off.

The decrepit roster with a losing mentality was broken down and rebuilt, better piece by better piece. Head coach Mike Shanahan has cut 150 players since he came in, and only one (Carlos Rogers) is starting for another team. Over the course of those two years, the Redskins grew up right before our eyes.

Or at least my eyes, since it seems no one else has given them a chance since the late 1990s. I’m looking at you, ESPN the Magazine, with your 2-14 preseason prediction. And you, Pete Prisco of CBSSports.com, with your 3-13 prediction. Despite key early-season injuries and a dreadful 3-6 start, Washington refused to fold where it certainly would have in the past. Then suddenly they were owners of a seven-game winning streak, a division title, and a home playoff game.

Who knows what will happen next year. Offensive coordinator Kyle Shanahan appears interested in a head coaching gig (Don’t do it, Kyle! There’s a succesion plan in place and RGIII is your play-calling muse), the team will lose out on another $18 million in cap space and it’s already without a first round draft pick.* Not to mention Griffin’s wobbly knee, which swayed and then collapsed on the torn-up FedEx Field turf, dragging D.C.’s playoff dreams with it.

Even so, what happened this season was glorious. The pack-it-in attitude is gone. In its place is a franchise quarterback, a talented running back, and the kind of skill at each position that comes from a multiyear dedication to rebuilding. We’ve seen one of the finest franchise turnarounds in recent memory, and I can only hope that this year lives up to the new standard that the Redskins set in 2012.

Jason Bacaj is Began in '96's Out West correspondent and an appropriately optimistic Redskins fan.

*Article amended to reflect that the 'Skins do indeed have a second round draft pick. Hooray!

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Via ABC

By Adam Cancryn

Felix Baumgartner and the Red Bull Stratos team pushed the boundaries of human athleticism in front of millions around the world, and lived to tell about it. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

It started with an idea.

Five years ago, Felix Baumgartner wondered whether he could freefall from the stratosphere. He had already conquered some of the most dangerous, and lowest, manmade peaks on Earth, and now it was time to set his sights a bit higher. Twenty-three-and-a-half miles higher, to be more exact. It would be a challenge bordering on impossible, less a stunt than a science experiment. And that near impossibility is what made it worth trying.

The idea went little-noticed outside of the daredevil and scientific communities at the time. The rest of us were more concerned with a different type of falling: falling stock prices, falling home values, falling dreams. A global economy built on reckless growth had risen to unsustainable heights, and then plummeted. There was no parachute to slow its descent. World leaders and individuals alike scrambled for ideas, any ideas, to bail out before we hit the ground. Amid the chaos, few had time to look to the stars with Felix, to a point in the future when we might see progress.

That point arrived on Oct. 14. But as millions around the world huddled in front of televisions and computers to watch a balloon whisk Felix away in his space-age basket, it was hard to say we’d made much progress. Nations remained wracked by conflict so endless that suffering is their way of life. Environmental disasters, both manmade and natural, kill scores and yet are so commonplace as to go almost unnoticed.

And our economic fears, persistent as they may be, have largely been displaced by mortal fears. There is the penetrating, ever-present knowledge that some stranger could shatter our very existence with the twitch of of a finger, and for no higher purpose at that. By the time the balloon reached 128,100 feet and Felix stepped cautiously onto his pod’s small external ledge, the year 2012 had been marked as the Year of Death. It was one scarred by mass killings (Aurora, Oak Creek, Minneapolis, etc.) and suicides (Junior Seau, Chris Lighty, and thousands of others). One ruined by far too many funerals and far too little hope. In the days since Felix dropped off that small ledge and down toward Earth’s ghostly visage, we are awash in more tragedy, for which there is no simple solution. At what feels like an emotional breaking point, we are at a loss for practical ideas.

Yet here against that backdrop is Felix, a speck on the screens of millions united in horror as he spins spins spins out of control against the thickening atmosphere, and then in relief as he slows and rights himself, resuming a strangely tranquil 730 mile-per-hour fall to the ground. Here he is minutes later, floating toward a perfect landing and collapsing to the parched ground, parachute blousing about him, the consummation of a near-impossible mission built on the global ingenuity, optimism and ambition we worried we’d lost forever.



It was the single greatest sports moment of the year, a seminal accomplishment for science and for space exploration, and the peak of Felix Baumgartner’s career. More than that, it was a much-needed moment of inspiration. Baumgartner fought through logistical and personal challenges over the past five years, most famously fleeing the U.S. in 2010 rather than spend another anxiety-ridden day trapped in his space suit. The single-minded pursuit of this near-impossible idea, of progress, won out.

Nearing three months after the record-breaking freefall, the world faces its own abyss. Dire political, economic and societal problems confront us, and yet we have so far clung to the ledge, refusing to part with the outdated tropes and nonsensical tradition that paralyze us. The single-minded pursuit of progress is in jeopardy.

It’s time now, in 2013, to stare into the abyss, salute, and step off the ledge. It’s time to trust that our ingenuity, optimism and ambition will pull us out of our spin and land us safely, two feet on solid ground.

Adam Cancryn is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96.

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Via The Telegraph

By Zach Ricchiuti

Amid a fascinating year of international soccer, the Spanish national team proved once again that they are the best in the world. Part of a short series on the best moments of 2012.

This was the year that the world didn’t end. But had the Mayans been correct, at least the international soccer community would have gone out on top.

The sport’s banner year started with Chelsea’s Champions League win, an unlikely triumph that included victories over both Barcelona and Bayern Munich. The club demonstrated perhaps the finest display of trench warfare since World War I, led by a possessed Didier Drogba, who seemingly did it all on offense and defense.

And let’s not forget about Real Madrid, which despite the controversy now swirling around Jose Mourinho (and recently stirred further by this columnist), in May ended Barcelona’s dominance over La Liga and won their 32nd league title. Madrid of 2011/12 were fantastic, a far cry from their tepid showings of late. Ronaldo shattered the club record for goals in a season with 60 fabulous strikes, and Mourinho became the first manager to win league’s in four different countries. 

Over in England, we witnessed similar dramatics. Sergio Aguero’s 94th minute score during the Premier League final brought the title back to Manchester City for the first time since 1968, and will be counted among the most explosive finishes in tourney history. It was the culmination of an entire season of possession-based football led by Aguero, David Silva and Carlos Tevez, the latter of which spent four months on an Argentine golf course before returning to drag Manchester across the finish line. 

Yet all of those memorable moments are dwarfed by the story out of economically ravaged and culturally divided Spain, whose victory at Euro 2012 established them as one of the finest sides that international soccer has ever seen. The national team’s tiki-taka style of possession soccer came under fire at times during the tournament, as they struggled to break down their opponents early on. But they stuck with their game plan, eventually dominating possession of the ball so thoroughly that they rarely played defense. Spain conceded just 16 shots on target during the whole of Euro 2012, 10 of which came from Italy during the final. By then, it didn’t much matter, as Spain cruised to a 4-0 victory. 

It was the third major championship in four years, following Euro 2008 and the 2010 World Cup, a testament to the team’s talent and chemistry. Head coach Vincent Del Bosque assimilated new faces quickly without disturbing the results nor the style of play, while Spain’s six-man core dictated the team’s overall attitude and approach. When stars like David Villa went down with injury, well-prepared replacements were there to step up. Never before has an international side burst with this much talent.

Even as they celebrated their Euro 2012 win and an historic consecutive championship streak, the Spanish players were focused on adding a fourth. The World Cup travels to Brazil in 2014, and Spain are likely the favorites once again. Their passes travel in every direction, but this team’s momentum is focused forward in pursuit of more titles. They are surely the toast of 2012.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident soccer expert for Began in '96.

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Via Unsportsmanlike

By Michael Bennett

Led by a rookie quarterback and cries of Chuckstrong!, the Colts' march to the playoffs seemed at times like a plot straight out of Hollywood. The first in a series on our contributors favorite moments of 2012.

The sporting world gave us several memorable storylines in 2012. Thinking back, though, many of those were laced with tragedy. We witnessed the horrors violence and suicide, chronicled the inevitable downfall of this generation's most famous cyclist, and collectively shamed Penn State for one of the most jarring cover-ups in sports. I was all but finished with an essay on how our love of professional sports has led to corruption and disgrace; how sports are no longer about triumph and attrition, but rather contracts, lockouts, and egos. 

Then I saw footage of the Indianapolis Colts’ players and coaches dancing around the locker room, and decided not to give up all hope. The Colts’ season has enough heartwarming storylines to remind me of all the good things that still remain.

We all know the plot by now: The Colts finished the 2011 season with only two wins and decided, understandably yet controversially, to rebuild by drafting quarterback Andrew Luck. That led them to release Peyton Manning, the franchise quarterback and future Hall of Famer. Luck officially took the helm, facing the inordinate task of replacing one of the best quarterbacks to ever play the game. More importantly, he had to do so with a team coming off its worst season since 1991.

Soon, Luck and the Colts faced yet another hurdle. Head coach Chuck Pagano in September announced that he had Leukemia, and would step away from the team. It could have been just another excuse for the Colts to drift through the season, resigned to the belief that a full turnaround was impossible with a rookie signal caller and no head coach.

Instead, the Colts and interim head coach Bruce Arians used Pagano's diagnosis as motivation. Players and cheerleaders shaved their heads. Game balls were dedicated to his recovery. And as the Colts reeled off win after win, Pagano experienced a revival of his own. After three months of treatment, his cancer went into remission. He returned to the field to coach the final two games of the regular season, long enough win the year's 10th and 11th games and dance a happy playoff dance with his team.

As a Steelers fan, I was happy to see Bruce Arians gone from his spot as Pittsburgh's offensive coordinator. He just wasn’t quite the right fit for the Black and Gold. It turns out that he belonged elsewhere in the best of ways. His success is one of the many storylines of courageous triumph for this Colts team.

Perhaps we find the most genuine source of motivation in the darkest of times. In a year full of depressing sports memories, the Colts took what could have been a final blow to their season and instead transformed it into a message of hope for the sporting world. Chuck Pagano, Bruce Arians, Andrew Luck and company reminded us that unity and dedication can prevail over life's difficulties. All it took was a locker room dance to remind me that the uplifting storylines of sports can be just as telling as the corruption and cover-ups. We can all learn from the Colts’ remarkable season, and do our own little locker room dance to celebrate.

Michael Bennett is a contributor to Began in '96 and writes on hip-hop and culture at Poetic Justice.

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