Quotes from Stephen Rodrick

I've seen few things more depressing than the end-of-season Giants-Padres series in 2001 in which Barry Bonds hit his 68th homer of the year while a .227-hitting, rapidly fossilizing Rickey Henderson staggered like a delirious marathoner toward 3,000 hits.

Robert Downey Jr. doesn't work out like us regular folks. Adulation bathes him from the moment he arrives at his Los Angeles martial arts studio.

The Smithsonian should box and preserve Tim McGraw's Nashville den for a future exhibit entitled 'Early 21st Century American Man Cave.'

The everybody-loves-Jeff Bridges home base is, of course, 'The Big Lebowski.'

More than any other major sport, professional or amateur, college football games are decided by the physical incompetence and downright chokery of their players.

Baseball loyalists cite the game's legendary numbers - 300 wins, 500 homers, 3,000 hits - as evidence of the sport's elegance, beauty, and gravitas. What no one mentions is how wretched and painful it is to actually watch a former star gasp and sputter his way toward a legendary number.

To build an empire - or win seven Tour de Frances in a row - you must have a Lone Star-size ego and a dash of megalomania.

Some historians trace the start of the War on Terror to November 4, 1979, the day the hostages were taken in Tehran.

Rick Rubin's undulating face hair is just as famous as his body of work. In homage to the yogis he read about as a boy on Long Island, Rubin hasn't shaved since he was 23. It's long been his registered trademark.

The only reason baseball's numerical touchstones have any significance is that most players - even the game's greats - peter out just barely before they reach them.

Jeff Bridges wants you to take it easy, man.

Stephen A. Smith is the hardest-working man in sports show business. The ubiquitous basketball pundit appears on ESPN about 10 times a day as a regular on the show 'NBA Fastbreak,' a guest commentator on 'Sports Center,' and a pundit on 'ESPNEWS.'

Think about it: You're trying to raise cash to save an endangered animal. You've got orphaned pandas getting 3 trillion YouTube hits, and you've got seals being clubbed over the head by roughnecks. The money flows in. But what about the poor shark?

If nothing else, the act of reaching a milestone often serves to reveal a superstar's true nature.

Celebs that hit the West Hollywood/Beverly Hills quadrant and places like the Urth Caffe are not exactly trying to keep a low profile; it's sort of like if LeBron James went to an ESPN Zone and then whined about being hounded for autographs.

There are many reasons why I hate college football. The 4-hour games drone on longer than Steve Lyons during the American League playoffs. The ever-expanding season threatens to creep into early July. Boise, Idaho, hosts a bowl game. And it's played on blue artificial turf.

There's no doubt Matt Leinart loves his son very much.

Occasionally, a young catcher is born with a backup's soul. Bob Montgomery was on the Red Sox opening day roster for the entire 1970s, yet he never had more than 254 at-bats in a season.

Before Angelina Jolie became a humanitarian, she was best known for wearing a vial of blood around her neck and kissing her brother.

There are 316 million people in the United States of America. About six million of them watch 'Homeland,' Showtime's thriller about world terror, paranoia, and bipolar disorder. That's about 2 percent of the population; roughly what the guy with the beard running on the Libertarian Party ticket gets when he runs for Congress.

Unlike the LeBrons and A-Rods of the world, anointed as special from pre-K, Matt Leinart exudes an approachability rarely seen in superstars. It's why kids on the autograph line chat him up like a buddy with whom they could stay up late playing Xbox.

As anyone who has read 'Sports Illustrated's Steve Rushin knows, it's quite possible to write an unreadable column without being a TV pundit. But if you want to be a consistently good columnist, you can't be on television.

A colleague once nicknamed me - half mocking - the 'magical stranger' because I get people to tell me things.

Brett Favre likes to tell stories.