CNN
 — 

Monica Puig won more than 300 matches during her tennis career and the feeling afterwards was often the same: relief, excitement, and satisfaction that the weeks and months of sacrifice and preparation had paid off.

Today, exactly a year after shoulder issues forced her to retire aged 28, Puig is still able to revisit some of those winning emotions without picking up a tennis racket or stepping foot on a court.

She’s turned to running marathons – first in New York City, then in Boston and London on back-to-back weekends earlier this year and is already halfway towards her goal of completing all six of the world’s marathon majors by the end of 2024.

“Every time I cross the finish line of a marathon and I get a new personal best time, I get emotional, I’ve cried,” Puig tells CNN Sport.

“I’ve just felt in awe of what I’ve been doing because I could easily just be sitting on the couch crying and feeling sorry for myself. But I tried to channel all of that energy that I have towards whatever I had been feeling about my career into something more productive.”

Completing a marathon, Puig says, feels “very similar and very different” to winning a tennis match. With tennis, the stakes felt higher when rankings points, global recognition, and prize money were on the line.

But the sense of personal satisfaction she gets from running has endured, helping to ease the lingering pain of her retirement from tennis.

“It’s more about showing myself that I didn’t let myself fall into this big black hole of depression and sadness when I had to finish my career so early,” Puig adds.

“I was able to pick myself back up and find something else that motivates me to get out of bed every day, that motivates me to continue to be strong, fit, and have fun at the same time.”

Puig reached a career-high ranking of No. 27 in the world and won one WTA Tour title in 2014. Her crowning moment arrived two years later when she won Olympic gold in Rio – Puerto Rico’s first-ever gold medal at the Games.

As a tennis player, Puig always saw running as a form of punishment – never enjoyment. It became a means to clear her head when she was rehabbing from injuries and, over time, she started to increase the distance of her runs – three miles became five, five became eight, then eight became half and full marathons.

Now, Puig has also set her sights on competing in triathlons, as well as running the remaining marathon majors in Chicago, Berlin, and Tokyo. Her first half Ironman – a 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike, and 13.1-mile run – is in Augusta, Georgia, in September, and she plans to race another back home in Puerto Rico next year.

An amateur runner and triathlete, it’s a sharp transition from her life as one of the best tennis players in the world, though Puig thinks her experience of the latter has benefited the former.

“You are competing against yourself,” she says of all three disciplines, “you are your biggest enemy or supporter out there. What you think can either push you or it can limit you.

“In tennis, I’m not going to say my mental fortitude was my strength because a lot of the time I didn’t know how to deal with negative thoughts, but I feel like everybody matures at their own time mentally.

“Doing the marathons and triathlon has really helped my mentality to grow and to develop this can-do attitude towards everything that I do. It’s also thanks to tennis that I have a certain discipline … All of that discipline has really helped me to stay in shape and stay true to my goals.”

Elbow surgery in 2019 followed by three shoulder surgeries in three years ultimately signaled the end to Puig’s tennis career. She played her first match since 2020 at the Madrid Open last year, but the shoulder problems persisted.

There were times, Puig says, that she couldn’t sleep on the affected side, such was the pain in her shoulder. Moreover, the mental toll of constant rehab and almost four years away from regularly competing on the tour was starting to mount.

“It felt like I was pushing a stone up a mountain and the stone kept squashing me as I kept getting further and further,” says Puig.

“I obviously believed that I could come back, I believed in myself enough. Last year, I had full intention of playing again competitively.

“But when I saw my surgeon after the last time I was on the court, he said, ‘Look, I have to be honest with you, your shoulder – it’s not doing well. And we can’t just keep opening up your shoulder to fix it every single time it goes wrong.”

Not ready to walk away from tennis entirely, Puig still hopes to play exhibition matches in the future. She returned to the practice court recently and had to temper expectations from fans, who interpreted footage posted on social media as the start of a competitive comeback.

But Puig has remained involved with the sport as a broadcaster, enabling her to engage with the game in a different way compared to her playing days.

“When I commentate or I’m watching matches, I’ve noticed that my understanding of the game has gotten a lot better,” she says. “I feel like I’m smarter and I can see things, I can notice things. I study the game a lot better than when I was playing.

“My understanding for tennis has grown and I wish that I was still playing so I could implement some of the things that I see and have that knowledge translate onto what I do on the court.”

Puig adds that she still misses tennis, particularly when she watches her contemporaries thrive at grand slams.

With her shoulder never going to be as it was prior to the surgeries, she’s come to accept her body’s limitations and is honing her swimming technique to withstand the rigors of Ironman-distance triathlons.

“I’ve learned to handle my shoulder in a different way and knowing that, if there is pain, then it’s okay to stop, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to say that you’re not feeling 100%,” says Puig.

“Usually, when I was trying to come back last year, I would play through pain and that wasn’t necessarily something that felt very good. It was very challenging and involved a lot of tears.”

What she has instead developed over the past year is “a new life” and “a new way of doing things.”

“I want to continue to do this for my whole life; I see people well into their fifties, sixties, still doing triathlon and doing Ironman,” says Puig.

“That’s something that I want to continue to do … I don’t know how far I’ll get or anything like that, but the sky’s the limit.”

CNN
 — 

Anthony Bourdain loved haggis. But even the late, great American chef, writer and television host recognized that Scotland’s national dish, with its “sinister sheep parts” wrapped in a shroud of mystery and half-invented history, could be a hard sell.

“Don’t let them tell you otherwise, that’s really one of life’s great pleasures,” Bourdain said on one of his gastro-curious pilgrimages to Glasgow. “There is no more unfairly reviled food on Earth than the haggis.”

A mash-up of diced lung, liver and heart mixed with oatmeal, beef suet, onion and assorted spices, haggis was traditionally made by stuffing these raw ingredients into the stomach of a recently slain sheep and boiling the lot to a state of palatability.

Instagrammable is not the word that immediately comes to mind. In our 21st-century world, where “clean” eating and processed pap overlap, haggis can seem like an “Outlander”-style outlier from another age.

Yet, by some alchemy, once cooked to its required “warm-reekin’ (steaming)” state, it adds up to much more than the sum of its modest parts. It’s offaly charm has kept nose-to-tail eating alive among a younger generation of Scots that has largely turned its back on the tripe, liver and kidneys their predecessors enjoyed (or endured).

Carefully prepared, haggis tastes both oaty and meaty; it is dark and crumbly, a little crispy at the edges but still moist; earthy but also savory and spicy; deep-tasting and profoundly warming, the perfect foil for its traditional garnish of floury mashed potatoes and orange bashed turnip.

“It’s like a cuddle for the stomach,” says Nicola Turner, a 35-year-old office administrator from Helensburgh, a town on western Scotland’s Firth of Clyde.

Spice and texture

For children of the 1960s and ’70s, like crime novelist Ian Rankin, haggis meals were a choice between the classic meat-and-two-veg plate and the battered and deep-fried, chip-shop iteration loved by both his friend Bourdain and his quintessentially Scottish detective character, Inspector John Rebus.

Now myriad other treatments have blossomed.

“I’m pretty sure the first time I dined with AB in Edinburgh we had haggis in filo pastry with a jam-style – maybe blackcurrant – sauce,” Rankin recalled. “He was a big fan of haggis and of chip shops. Rebus will have enjoyed the occasional haggis supper from his local chip shop. He was definitely a fan, as am I.”

“It is all about the spicing and the texture,” says the Scottish food writer, novelist and cook Sue Lawrence, a champion of haggis’ adaptability for use in other dishes. “If you didn’t know what was in it, you wouldn’t think ‘oh that tastes of liver or whatever.’ It is all nicely chopped up and the oatmeal gives it a lovely texture. It could easily be a nice, big mince dish.”

Lawrence uses haggis as an alternative to beef and pork ragù in lasagna and in her pastilla, a version of the North African dish in which a hand-made haggis from the Isle of Mull substitutes for the traditional poultry or seafood filling. The filo pastry savory is flavored with the spice blend ras el hanout, apricots, chile, orange zest and almonds before being sprinkled with cinnamon and icing sugar.

Such cultural crossovers serve as a reminder that haggis could easily be a dish with nothing specifically Scottish about it at all. Records of similar quick and portable preparations of the fast-perishing innards of sheep and other animals date back to ancient Rome and Greece.

Haggis-like combinations of offal and grains are part of the culinary history of several countries. Spain has chireta, Romania drob and Sweden polsa, while chaudin, or ponce, is a rice and meat-stuffed pig stomach that is a staple of Cajun cooking.

In neighboring England, recipes for “hagese,” “hagws of a schepe,” “haggas” or “haggus” pop up in recipe books published between the 15th and 17th centuries, probably preceding written records north of the border.

Etymological evidence points to the term “haggis” having its roots in Old Norse, suggesting an early version of an oat-and-offal sausage might have arrived in Britain and Ireland on a Viking longboat.

But ever since it was first optioned by the poet Robert Burns in the late 1700s, the haggis backstory has been monopolized by Scotland and the Scots, sometimes mischievously.

It is, according to the kind of lore that Burns engendered, the dish a doughty Highlander would carry with him as he drove cattle through the glens to the markets of the central belt or the perfect picnic for a whisky smuggler plying his illicit trade by moonlight.

From such romantic notions it was a short step to turning the haggis into a wee wild beastie, one with longer legs on one side that was thus condemned to run round and round whichever hill it lived on. In 2003, a poll of American tourists in Scotland found that one in three of them believed they might encounter such a confused creature on a Caledonian vacation.

Bourdain, a native New Yorker, may have qualified as haggis’ biggest admirer since Burns, but his compatriots at the US Department of Agriculture remain unconverted to offal-filled paunch. Haggis imports into the United States were prohibited in 1971 as part of a ban on the consumption of all livestock lungs. Authentic versions of old school haggis remain culinary contraband in the US, as hard to lay your hands on as Cuban cigars.

Across the rest of the world, it’s a different story. According to leading producer Simon Howie, haggis is more widely appreciated and consumed now than it has been since Burns improvised his “Address to a Haggis” for the entertainment of well-to-do Edinburgh acquaintances.

Firmly tongue-in-cheek, the poem lauds the “Great chieftain o’ the pudding race,” as exactly the kind of unpretentious, hearty fare required to nourish a nation of braveheart warriors.

In comparison to the enfeebling foreign muck enjoyed by the capital’s claret-quaffing elites of the time – the olio, fricassée or ragoût that would “sicken a sow” – Burns urges his readers to wonder at the magical impact of haggis on his fellow sons of Scotland’s soil.

As the English translation of the original Scots language version puts it:

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed/

The trembling earth resounds his tread/

Clap in his ample fist a blade/

He’ll make it whistle/

And legs and arms and heads will cut/

Off like the heads of thistles

These days synthetic casings have largely replaced stomach but ovine and porcine innards remain at the core of most of the haggis produced in its homeland, said Howie, who estimates that his company Simon Howie Butchers, accounts for around 60% of the roughly two million haggises produced every year.

For Howie, versatility, value for money and convenience explain why this staple of the Scottish larder is thriving. Typically haggis retails in Scotland, which accounts for half of global consumption by volume, for around £6, or $7.70 per kilogram ($3.36/pound). That’s around half the price of less expensive cuts of beef or a third of the price of Scotch lamb while enjoying a fairly similar nutritional and calorific profile.

“You can give your kids a meal that is not full of things you don’t want to feed them – for a few pounds you can feed three strapping lads,” Howie said.

“From a kitchen perspective, it is very simple because when it leaves our factory it is already cooked. So when you or a restaurant owner gets it into the kitchen all you have to do is heat it up to be piping hot. It couldn’t be more basic: a student with no cooking skills or a Michelin-starred chef do exactly the same thing to put it out on the plate.”

Its texture means haggis can also be usefully deployed in fine dining alongside leaner meat like venison or as a stuffing for poultry and game birds. Its spicy intensity means it is also finding uses in canapés and as a crouton-borne garnish for soups.

Buoyant sales are also underpinned by the increasing consumption of haggis in forms inspired by Scotland’s ethnic minorities.

Glasgow’s Sikh community pioneered haggis pakora in the 1990s and samosas, spring rolls and quesadillas have followed in its wake, often using a vegetarian version of the protein in which the offal is replaced by a mix of vegetables, pulses and mushrooms.

Such dishes are more than culinary twists. They are badges of belonging, and an indication that, two centuries after Burns grabbed it for the nation, haggis is as intimately entwined with Scots identity as ever.

Just ask Ross O’Cinneide, a promising 14-year-old fly-half in the junior section of Stirling County rugby club.

“Most of my friends and I like haggis,” he says. “Mum makes it for us sometimes after rugby and it’s got a very nice warming feeling. And it’s nice because it’s purely Scottish.”

CNN
 — 

Tiger Woods could form part of the US Ryder Cup team – or at least, Zach Johnson isn’t ruling it out.

Ahead of the Sony Open in Hawaii, US captain Johnson said he wouldn’t discount selecting Woods to compete in the tournament if the 47-year-old didn’t qualify for the team automatically.

“I would only contemplate having him on the team if he felt – if he was putting up some numbers and some scores, No. 1, where he’s showing some sign of being competitive, “Johnson said at a media conference on Wednesday.

“And then No. 2, that discussion would be had with the other guys that are a part of that team, and specifically him. If there is anything I trust in Tiger Woods, is that he’s extremely invested in this team and the future Cups. Extremely invested. I can’t speak that enough,” added Johnson.

“And then I think you would do anything and everything for the betterment of the team. I assume he would say … I don’t like basing on assumptions … but I’m confident that he would say, ‘Yeah, I can play, or no, I can’t.’”

Last year, Johnson confirmed Woods would be part of the US Ryder Cup “in some capacity,” adding that Woods had made it a “priority.”

“Given who he is and what he’s all about, I can’t tell you right now: I don’t know if he will be here next year, but he will be a part of this team in some capacity,” Johnson said.

However, Woods’ health could complicate this, Johnson conceded.

“He’s gone through some things as of late that make it difficult, whether it’s travel or what-have-you,” said the US Ryder Cup captain.

Injury has hampered Woods’ recent career, his playing time decimated since he suffered serious leg injuries in a car accident in February 2021.

The 47-year-old withdrew from the Hero World Challenge in December citing his foot pain, and at various points had looked to be struggling with movement during the seventh edition of The Match that month.

“I think something that is realistic is playing the tour one day, never full time, ever again, but pick and choose, just like Mr. (Ben) Hogan did,” Woods told Golf Digest after his accident in 2021.

“Pick and choose a few events a year and you play around that. You practice around that, and you gear yourself up for that. And you play. I think that’s how I’m going to have to play it from now on.

“It’s an unfortunate reality, but it’s my reality. And I understand it, and I accept it.”

A biennial competition which alternates between Europe and the US, the Ryder Cup is being played in Italy for the first time later this year – September 25 to October 1 – at the Marco Simone Golf & Country Club, which is 10 miles from the center of Rome.

Team US regained the Ryder Cup in 2021 following a historically dominant performance over Europe at Whistling Straits.