When I moved to NYC from Virginia the first mission was to find a pub for Premier League matches. I was lucky enough to be introduced to two by way of the NY Reds. But there was something about Smithfield that felt like home. In Virginia I had a family

I don’t often hit up sports bars. Not because I don’t care about sports, mind you, but I don’t always have the desire to watch a game unfold due to the usual ineptitude of NY teams. Frankly, I don’t need to watch the Knicks/Jets/Giants/Mets/yes, even the Yankees crash and burn

It ain’t easy being a Boston sports fan in this city. Not only have I had to learn to suppress my reflex of shouting “Yankees Suck!” after every touchdown, recovery or awesome wing I eat no matter which sport I’m watching, but have also learned that wearing Boston sports paraphernalia

Last Sunday, I was doing a typical Brooklyn-y thing to do by enjoying the neighborhood’s Open Studios weekend, which came to a halt shortly after walking around a man’s apartment while he created a “live soundtrack” by making odd sounds into a microphone. I was instantly struck by thoughts of