By now you're probably familiar with the TV promotional campaign in which pickup hoopsters are told that the women of the WNBA are "better than you are." If you're like most guys, your response goes something like, "Yeah, right." In the case of the Houston Comets' Sheryl Swoopes, it's best to take their word for it. You don't want to play this woman one-on-one. Swoopes, a member of the 2000 U.S. Olympic women's basketball team, combines speed, grace, tenacity and skill into a package that has helped the Comets' dynasty rack up four straight league titles. The six-foot-tall Swoopes, a former legend at Texas Tech University, is one of the few WNBA players that has a pretty jump shot, and her long, lean frame allows her to disrupt any team's offense. Heck, the WNBA Defensive Player of the Year is so good, she drove teammate and former MVP Cynthia Cooper into retirement.
By now you're probably familiar with the TV promotional campaign in which pickup hoopsters are told that the women of the WNBA are "better than you are." If you're like most guys, your response goes something like, "Yeah, right." In the case of the Houston Comets' Sheryl Swoopes, it's best to take their word for it. You don't want to play this woman one-on-one. Swoopes, a member of the 2000 U.S. Olympic women's basketball team, combines speed, grace, tenacity and skill into a package that has helped the Comets' dynasty rack up four straight league titles. The six-foot-tall Swoopes, a former legend at Texas Tech University, is one of the few WNBA players that has a pretty jump shot, and her long, lean frame allows her to disrupt any team's offense. Heck, the WNBA Defensive Player of the Year is so good, she drove teammate and former MVP Cynthia Cooper into retirement.
No one is ever going to pick up the Houston Chronicle's sports pages for the sheer joy of reading; the best you can hope for is to get the basic information efficiently, unfettered by clunky current-events references ("The Astros fell to their knees faster than Monica Lewinsky") and free from tortuous puns. You're in luck if the columnist is Jonathan Feigen, who covers the Rockets and the NBA. Feigen writes in a clear, crisp style that sets a scene effectively, but he's not so in love with his wordsmithing that you have to search diligently for relevant facts. His skills translate well to radio, too; when he guests on the local talk shows, he brings a welcome air of common sense and moderation to the shouting matches.
No one is ever going to pick up the Houston Chronicle's sports pages for the sheer joy of reading; the best you can hope for is to get the basic information efficiently, unfettered by clunky current-events references ("The Astros fell to their knees faster than Monica Lewinsky") and free from tortuous puns. You're in luck if the columnist is Jonathan Feigen, who covers the Rockets and the NBA. Feigen writes in a clear, crisp style that sets a scene effectively, but he's not so in love with his wordsmithing that you have to search diligently for relevant facts. His skills translate well to radio, too; when he guests on the local talk shows, he brings a welcome air of common sense and moderation to the shouting matches.
Some athletes are just plain hard to please. Take mountain bike riders, for example. You'd think traversing terrain that might cause a tank commander to rethink his route would be a sufficient challenge. But for people who compete in the Texas State Championship Sprint Adventure race series, risking life and limb on two wheels is clearly not enough. The brainchild of Troy Farrar of Houston's Terra Firma Promotions, the June through September series consists of seven races held on courses in Houston, Dallas, Oklahoma City and New Braunfels. The competition is open to two-person teams that must endure a seven- to ten-mile mountain bike race, followed by a two- to three-mile trail run before canoeing for a couple of miles. The frequently brutal race is a true test of teamwork and tenacity, and the best part is that proceeds benefit Texas Wildlife Rehabilitation.

Some athletes are just plain hard to please. Take mountain bike riders, for example. You'd think traversing terrain that might cause a tank commander to rethink his route would be a sufficient challenge. But for people who compete in the Texas State Championship Sprint Adventure race series, risking life and limb on two wheels is clearly not enough. The brainchild of Troy Farrar of Houston's Terra Firma Promotions, the June through September series consists of seven races held on courses in Houston, Dallas, Oklahoma City and New Braunfels. The competition is open to two-person teams that must endure a seven- to ten-mile mountain bike race, followed by a two- to three-mile trail run before canoeing for a couple of miles. The frequently brutal race is a true test of teamwork and tenacity, and the best part is that proceeds benefit Texas Wildlife Rehabilitation.

The fundamental fantasy of the golfing world is that best is supposed to be brutal. Year after year, Houston hackers hold the notion that tribute should be paid to the toughest holes. Of course, that ignores the basic premise that this game is geared toward finding that rare feeling of oneness with nature. So stifle the raves about 490-yard par fours transcending the 200-foot canyons and elevated greens guarded by Saharan bunkers, and start communing with the sheer beauty to behold from tee to green and beyond. Old Orchard Golf Club was created with a unique respect for the finer aesthetics of the game. Nothing shows that off more than No. 4 at the Stables Course. The view is accented by a windmill in the distance. Plenty of trees surround the hole, and a waterfall and stream splash down the fairway border and extend beyond the narrow, well-trapped three-tier green. Challenging? Naturally. And scenic. And peaceful. The kind of on-in-two feeling that the game of golf is supposed to be all about. On this hole, a drop in blood pressure is par enough.
The fundamental fantasy of the golfing world is that best is supposed to be brutal. Year after year, Houston hackers hold the notion that tribute should be paid to the toughest holes. Of course, that ignores the basic premise that this game is geared toward finding that rare feeling of oneness with nature. So stifle the raves about 490-yard par fours transcending the 200-foot canyons and elevated greens guarded by Saharan bunkers, and start communing with the sheer beauty to behold from tee to green and beyond. Old Orchard Golf Club was created with a unique respect for the finer aesthetics of the game. Nothing shows that off more than No. 4 at the Stables Course. The view is accented by a windmill in the distance. Plenty of trees surround the hole, and a waterfall and stream splash down the fairway border and extend beyond the narrow, well-trapped three-tier green. Challenging? Naturally. And scenic. And peaceful. The kind of on-in-two feeling that the game of golf is supposed to be all about. On this hole, a drop in blood pressure is par enough.
For most of us, table tennis (it was called Ping-Pong in our day) was a game best played in the rec room with Uncle Charlie and a few of your Little League team buddies. One visit to the Houston Table Tennis Center on West Bellfort, and you'll realize just how far this little game has come. With 24 tournament-caliber tables, a pro shop and a lounge complete with pool tables, this place is the center of the world for table tennis mavens. While rank amateurs can play for $6 an hour or $8 a day, you also are likely to see some of the finest practitioners of the game flailing away at the little white ball with as much intensity as Pete Sampras at Wimbledon. The center hosts regular tournaments and provides coaches who can teach you how to execute shots like spinny loops, defensive chops and fast counter drives. But you'd better tell Uncle Charlie to at least put on a shirt without mustard stains.
For most of us, table tennis (it was called Ping-Pong in our day) was a game best played in the rec room with Uncle Charlie and a few of your Little League team buddies. One visit to the Houston Table Tennis Center on West Bellfort, and you'll realize just how far this little game has come. With 24 tournament-caliber tables, a pro shop and a lounge complete with pool tables, this place is the center of the world for table tennis mavens. While rank amateurs can play for $6 an hour or $8 a day, you also are likely to see some of the finest practitioners of the game flailing away at the little white ball with as much intensity as Pete Sampras at Wimbledon. The center hosts regular tournaments and provides coaches who can teach you how to execute shots like spinny loops, defensive chops and fast counter drives. But you'd better tell Uncle Charlie to at least put on a shirt without mustard stains.

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