Wiedmer: 100-foot waterfalls no match for Tennessee native Dane Jackson and his kayak
One-hundred thirty-four feet of white water.

One-hundred thirty-four feet of white water.

Andy Smith was watching television in his East Brainerd home on Sunday night when a tornado warning for his area flashed across the TV screen.

To spy any church parking lot Easter morning was to quite possibly have been hit with the seemingly incompatible emotions of sadness and pride.

For the vast majority of their very young lives, Jordan and Grace Burrows have begun their Easter mornings with an egg hunt at Lookout Valley Baptist Church.

Before COVID-19 changed everything in all of our lives, Monday night was supposed to be the grand finale of the 2019-20 college basketball season.

Other than the most passionate President Trump haters among us, I'm sure most of us hope he was right in his belief that the NFL season will start on time in September.

March 25, 1978. The clock having just hit 2:30 a.m. that Saturday, the last embers fading to black on a Centre College fraternity party in Danville, Kentucky, my roommate and I were supposed to climb into my Toyota Corolla at that moment and head toward St. Louis, where the NCAA tournament's Final Four would begin later that day.

Kevin Spain had booked his flight weeks ago. The former assistant sports editor of the Times Free Press would fly to Nashville from his home in the Washington, D.C., area, then drive to Chattanooga this past Sunday for one of his favorite events of the year: The annual selection party for the McDonald Farm System fantasy baseball league.

But what if this novel coronavirus stubbornly refuses to recede enough for the Mocs and other college football teams to play come September or October?

Greg Hopkins II had planned to spend the past four weeks eating lean meat and vegetables in preparation for his fourth mixed martial arts bout as a professional.
