Three things of sporting note: death, machinery, words.
Iditarod musher Dallas Seavey kills moose to protect his dogs during race.
According to Iditarod Rule 34, if an edible big game animal — like a moose, caribou or buffalo — is killed in defense of life or property, the musher is required to gut the animal and report it to race officials at the next checkpoint. Mushers who follow must help gut the animal when possible and no teams may pass until the animal is gutted and the musher gutting the animal has proceeded.
Behind F1’s Velvet Curtain. Linked everywhere, because it was unceremoniously unpublished from Road & Track’s website, but obviously worth reading. (Version linked here is my highlighted read on Readwise.)
When we got into the garage, Lewis’s car was naked, its insides visible for all to see. I think this was the moment where my respect for the sport as it exists really made itself clear. It is hard to describe what I felt looking at that car. The closest phrase I have at my disposal is the technological sublime. I pictured a living, breathing animal of extraterrestrial origin, hooked up to a thousand arcane sensors that delivered messages in little pulses. All the tubes and sculpted carbon-fiber parts and the endless net of wires all working in service to the godhead engine, formed something totally incomprehensible to me, a feat of engineering so vast it breached the realm of magic.
The Tournament of Books Play-in Match. The Auburn Conference v. The Bee Sting v. The Librarianist.
As is well known, the Tournament of Books is an elaborate prank played on those who think they are capable of making aesthetic judgements.