Here's the latest from my pal Greg Hanlon. This one's over at SB Nation Longform and it's a tough story: The Sordid End of David Meggett:

This was beyond unusual for Loveland; it was unheard of. She was no amateur when it came to drinking. "To this day, I've never gone from slightly tipsy to completely falling down," she said recently. From this point forward, her memories are kaleidoscopic. "Everything's just flashes," she said.

She stumbled out of the bar, and fell hard into a nearby doorway. The nice, older couple that she knew asked for her address so they could put her in a cab, but she refused to give it to them.

Meggett came out and helped her to her feet; it seemed like a chivalrous gesture at first. But then he began leading her down the block. Loveland tried to push away, desperately trying to rally her severely compromised strength and coordination. But Meggett, with one arm, hoisted her a few inches into the air and continued down the block, to where he had parked his Porsche, the tops of Loveland's feet dangling and scraping the concrete. Several years prior, Sport Magazine had named him the seventh-strongest man in the NFL.

"Time for you to pay up, bitch," she said Meggett told her on the way to the car, presumably, she thinks, in reference to the drink he'd bought earlier. His tone was strangely matter of fact and assured, the use of "bitch" more casually dehumanizing than angry.

"That's when I realized — and pardon my French — but, 'Holy shit, this is about to go down.'"