On how his love of baseball has lasted for decades; on the joy of Ken Griffey, Jr. and Joey Votto (and the walking annoyance that was Brandon Phillips); on taking a job at a dying newspaper.
On sitting across from Oprah and asking great questions; on whether celebrity can be intimidating; on how to convince people to open up during chats; on whether publicists are friends or foes.
On the enormous difference between Magic Johnson saying, "It does" and "It do"; on how to make a scene soar without overwriting and relying too much on dialogue; on sharing the credit for a project with dozens of collaborators.
On why it was time to set down his pen; on the old-school days of Philadelphia sports writing; on the biggest mistake of his career—and battling back; on Mike Schmidt and Steve Carlton and Pete Rose and Julio Franco.
On the weird landscape that is Hollywood; on writing dialogue for characters based upon real people; on the art of the ideal comic book; on serving as a "Green Mile" standi-n.
On what happens when someone says, "We wanna turn your book into an HBO series"; on our magical day on set and the difficulties of Sidney Moncrief's name; on meeting Sally Field and watching your work come to life
On what it's like to have a show coming out on HBO in two weeks; on the steps Jim took to option my book, "Showtime," and why he brought a block of chocolate, a tomato and imitation wine drink to my house; on life insider the writers' room.
On what it's like having (my pathetic, podunk home turf) work to ban her book from school libraries; on why people feel so threatened by words on a page; on whether it's limiting to write for a younger audience.
On locking himself in a cabin, living off of noodles and energy drinks while writing 8,000 words per day; on embracing the unique joy of shitty Amazon reviews; on why Urban Meyer is the world's biggest douche.
On chronicling the early days of a basketball icon; on the complications of writing about someone who recently passed; on whether the modern newspaper sports columnist still matters; on being called out via Zoom by a Philadelphia Flyer standout.
On jumping on to a new beat midway through a high-profile coaching search; on going from Iowa to Louisiana; on why one would pursue journalism over medicine.
On chronicling the exploits of the NBA's most physical team; on efforts to speak with Patrick Ewing and John Starks; on saying no and no to a topic—then yes.
On working in sex and also chronicling the world of the sex worker; on why the Washington Post insisted she use her real name in a byline; on whether saying, "I love you, too" to a client is kosher; on how one becomes a sex worker; on chronicling the trials of a trans child.
On athletes engaging with the media and deciding which reporters are trustworthy; on the myriad give-and-take options between scribes and jocks; on why nearly all professional football players are—ultimately—meat and what it's like to walk away from the sport.
On the nightmarish joy/hell of the 1999 compilation of SI's 50th greatest athletes from every state; on how we left out George Brett (deliberately) and Evander Holyfield (accidentally); on whether print magazines are still worth reading; on how life without an office can be shockingly productive
On digging and digging and digging into a subject until there's nothing left to dig; on an eye-opening investigation into the Arizona Coyotes; on the art of the cold call; on the perils and/or advantages of interviewing someone over beers.
On how Mark's Barry Bonds book brought him glory, while my Barry Bonds brought bought me Dollar Store space; on how the entire Balco investigation commenced; on the non-joys of cold calling subjects.
On how her husband's ALS diagnosis led to catharsis via podcast; on listening to someone's pain without interruption or judgement; on why expressing one's feelings to a wide audience is so important.
On watching Allen Iverson cry and writing about it; on whether it's OK to think of a readership's makeup and cater toward it; on the hip-hop stylings of the late DMX.
On how to conduct the perfect interview; on why Dennis Quaid was such a nightmarish pain in the ass; on Reggie Jackson and Joe Torre and having people open up when they'd rather not open up; on beginning as a New York beat writer.
On how he still finds joy and passion out of a Michigan-Michigan state football game; on how living around the world has shaped his appreciation of the job; on an angry Rick Pitino and the rise and fall of The National.
On how one creates recipes; on the potential magic of banana chicken; on selling more than 4 million (yes—4 million) books; on adjusting to Substack and not caring what people think.
On the difference between writing funny and being funny; on what goes into the "Jimmy Kimmel Live!" writing process; on the confusing, dated humor of Bob Hope; on why Fred Savage was able to forgive and why Donald Trump, Jr. remains an excellent source of material.
On what it is to write about grief, and how it helps (or doesn't help) the healing process; on the best ways to help people who are grieving; on what he would like us to know about his son, Max
On what it means to cover the intersection of sports and social issues; on what to write about Trevor Bauer; on why it's OK to have a Yankee tattoo and write about the Yankees; on writing a book with another person.
On covering a team far from home by living in his parents' Vegas-based RV; on how to report on the NFL's first openly gay player; on whether it's still possible to break news during a pandemic.
On why rhyming can be a songwriter's nightmare; on the difference between writing a good song and a great song; on whether he still owns a song once someone else records it; on his new memoir, "Stores to Tell."
On compiling a lengthy (and fantastic) book in the era of short reads; on how his obsessive mind works when it comes to reporting; on Joe Paterno strife and Robin Yount's older brother.
On how one starts a song with a killer line—then waits months for line No. 2; on writing through all the social media distractions of 2021; on why she should have worn KISS makeup while opening for Joe Cocker.
On arriving in a clubhouse, sitting on a player's chair and waiting for the confrontation; on standing up to (asshole) Kenny Lofton; on never being afraid of an athlete or manager.
