I’m going to try to do this more often. For all the 140-character blasts and edgy blog posts, there is a ton of good, thoughtful and expansive sports journalism occurring on the World Wide Web.

SB Nation Long Form has been a leader in this area. Highly recommend you check out the site.

This piece on Ricky Bell comes from Jeff Pearlman. Earlier this week, Pearlman attracted some attention for a F-bomb filled post/tirade against Alex Rodriguez.

This story on Ricky Bell shows Pearlman’s true talents:

It was obvious. But, in a way, not so obvious. Ricky Bell still looked like Ricky Bell — the high hips, the miniature Afro, the letters B-E-L-L stitched atop the number 42 on his creamsicle-and-white jersey. He walked with a regal gait, signed one autograph after another, spoke of better Sundays to come. And yet, Bell was … iffy, and his teammates and coaches knew it. Back in 1979, when quarterback Doug Williams handed off to his halfback, Bell burst toward the line with the force of a cue stick slamming into the ball. All power. All energy. Now, he seemed sluggish. Bell still ran hard, but minus the speed and power. More often than not, he reached the first defensive player and fell backward. John McKay, the Buccaneers’ head coach, had coached Bell at USC, and often compared him to a young O.J. Simpson. He selected him over Pittsburgh’s Tony Dorsett with the first pick in the 1977 Draft, and knew what type of weapon he could be.

This wasn’t that Ricky Bell.

“Me and Ricky lived in the same apartment complex on Dale Mabry (Highway),” says Lewis, a former teammate USC. “That last year in Tampa, I spent a lot of time helping him into his apartment. I didn’t think anything of it. I just thought it was soreness and wear and tear. He played a tough position, and got hit a lot. It never occurred to me that something might be wrong with him.”

Well worth the time.