Oregon Championship Day closed at Portland Meadows on Nov. 18, a grey and waterlogged afternoon. Conditions on the dirt track were sloppy—a fact learned the hard way by jockey Anne Sanguinetti. During race four, a one-mile race for 3-year-old fillies, her horse took a wrong step and threw her to the ground.
From the paddock to the bank
Canada geese flew against a backdrop of blue and the sun warmed a thin crowd. Spectators idled at picnic tables, sipping beers, studying race guides.
Vikings move on
After losing to the Mustangs on Saturday, the Vikings football team prepares to face the University of California, Davis this weekend at Aggie Stadium. The Vikings have had ups and downs this season (a four-game losing streak but also a 77-10 win against Idaho State University), and their most recent game was no different.
Track days
The gates broke. Hooves pounded the dirt. Six jockeys bounced on the backs of six horses, their colors mixing and overlapping, an argyle rainbow of green and yellow, black and purple, blue and red. For 15.78 seconds the crowd was jumping and hollering.
Between the Horns: Pedal pedal
Don’t stop riding! The Bike to PSU Challenge is over, but you don’t have to chain up the spoked beast. After all, summer is here—sort of—and Portland’s streets are great for cycling.
Between The Horns: Forgotten games
I walked through Pioneer Square last week on a beautiful spring day and saw a group of people playing chess. They were mostly older men, many of who wore white socks pulled up to their calves, hiding, I suspect, the varicose veins that come with age. As I watched pawns advancing, kings castling, and knights and bishops swapping blows, I asked myself: What defines a sport?
Come on home, Viks
The Vikings softball team fought for a win this weekend in Eugene, but in the end lost to the Brigham Young University Cougars 2-0. The softball season is officially over for the Vikings, leaving their overall record at 28-25.
Between The Horns: Sprinting sucks
Sprinting sucks. It’s true. I tried it once. My heart, lungs and legs filled with burning needles. It felt like someone hit me in the gut with an ax. Brackish water, a mix of pain and pleasure, washed over me. For me, the only time sprinting is justifiable is if a bear, tiger or other fanged and clawed beast chases me, which thankfully rarely happens.