So we were thinking that, you know, the year is, like, almost over. All the magazines are doing year-in-review type stuff, so we figured, why should we be any different? Therefore, for the next 12 days, we will be looking back on each month on the calendar, pointing out the weird/important/amusing stuffs that happened that month. Deadspin wasn't around until September, though, so if you have suggestions as for stories you want to make sure we don't miss, let us know at firstname.lastname@example.org.
• February 6: One man spends the most important drive of his lifetime scattered, nervous and woozy. The other comes back from a potentially career-ending injury in record time to lead his team within seconds of winning the Super Bowl. Obviously, their popularity with the local fans adjusts accordingly. Of course.
• February 13: Yankees slugger Jason Giambi calls a press conference to apologize for ... something. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner calls him a "big man," an observation that flies in the face of the laws of matter.
• February 14: Jose Canseco's book, Juiced, hits bookstores. Librarians, en masse, report widespread testicular shrinkage.
• February 15: The NHL cancels its season. The rest of the sports world, having already scheduled their vacations for February anyway, find out about the news two weeks before the NFL Draft and tucks it away in a sidebar, next to "Orton neck beard engulfs Ottawa."
• February 21: Hunter S. Thompson kills himself, keeping Page 2's death rate at one writer a year. Skip Bayless starts to get nervous, but is reminded that Thompson and Ralph Wiley were talented, and breathes easier.
• February 25: Temple coach John Chaney, who is completely underrated in the humor department, is suspended for three games for sending in a player to intentionally hurt an opponent, ultimately breaking the guy's arm. If only someone had taught Cheney how to ice skate ...
• February 26: Maurice Clarett runs a 40-yard-dash in the same about of time it took the 40-year-old virgin. For the first time in about, oh, three years, he can't find anyone to pay him.
Tomorrow is March, obviously, so feel free to send your suggestions for the entire year. We're around.