Oregon running back LaMichael James is a seriously gifted, seriously tough athlete. The guy withstood brutally dislocating his elbow earlier this year [warning: graphic], and has still managed to be the top running back in the Pac-12.

Most assuredly, if there were a player most likely to be designated fearless, the Ducks would turn to their running back. But just make sure you don't get him near a roller coaster, or he'll lose it. He'll get the look on his face that most opposing defensive coordinators get when he starts breaking tackles on a perfectly schemed play.

Teammate Kenjon Barner hit up Space Mountain with James as the team prepares for the Rose Bowl in Southern California, and well, let's just say those photos they snap and hand out when everyone gets off the ride aren't always photos to remember. Actually, we'll remember the photo of James appearing immensely terrified, but that's sort of something we're guessing he'd like to forget. Granted, maybe he deserves more credit than that. Perhaps James was just acting scared to be funny, or to reassure his unsure coaster compatriots. At least, that's the story he should probably stick to.

New Orleans Saints tight end Jimmy Graham has won many fans this season. But perhaps none greater than 16-year-old Alex Newman.

The New Orleans native learned about football from her dad when she was only 8, and she was instantly hooked on her home team. Dad also taught her the guitar, and this Christmas, Alex decided to put those skills to use crafting a tribute to her favorite Saint.

Check out her musical chops, with backup vocals provided by little sis Stella:

Christmas might be a bit awkward for Joe and Michael Treffiletti. But this has nothing to do with in-laws. See, the brothers are competing against one another to win $100,000 in a nationwide fantasy football tournament.

The Treffilettis are entered in the National Fantasy Football Championship Classic game, run by Stats, Inc. There are 322 teams, divided into 14-team leagues. The entry fee is $1,400, but only the top four teams win money.

With just one week to play, Michael (Moreau, N.Y.) is atop the overall standings. Joe (Sunrise, Fla.), meanwhile, is sitting right behind in second place, less than 10 points back. If they finish 1-2, they'll win a combined $115,000. If they both finish out of the top 4, they end up with a stocking full of coal.

Even Cain and Abel would think this is a volatile situation.

"Not counting the year our house almost burned down because of the chimney fire, this will be the most eventful Christmas we’ve ever had," says Joe. "There hasn’t been any trash talk, just cautious nervousness."

The brothers' rosters share four of the same players, including three fantasy stars -- Wes Welker, Rob Gronkowski and Victor Cruz. Michael’s team will likely have Darren Sproles of the Saints in his starting lineup while Joe's team may be led by Matt Ryan of the Falcons (unless he decides to roll with Tim Tebow at quarterback).

This isn't the first time the Treffilettis have sniffed the $100,000 grand prize.

Say this for Darrell Bailey: He isn't about to die for the Los Angeles Clippers. This is not for a lack of trying. On a Saturday afternoon last year, the 43-year-old was driving though his Lynwood, California, neighborhood when he began to feel an ache in his chest. The ache became a throbbing pain. Scared, he called his mother. You might be having a heart attack. Get yourself to a doctor. Bailey did. He spent the night in a nearby hospital, resting and undergoing medical tests, and as the next afternoon dragged on, he realized something was seriously amiss.

In a few hours, the Clippers would be playing the New York Knicks.

At Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles.

A home game.

Uh-oh. This wouldn't do. Bailey hadn't missed a Clippers home game in nine years. Clipper Darrell hadn’t missed a home game in nine years. Three hundred and eighty-six consecutive games of leading cheers and dancing in the aisles and heckling opposing free throw shooters; of lost games and Donald Sterling and Blake Griffin missing his entire rookie season with a broken kneecap; of popping lozenges and dressing like a "Batman" villain and being a superfan -- note: not an official diagnosis in the DSM-IV -- of the single worst franchise in the history of American professional sports. This was a streak, like Cal Ripken or Brett Favre or the guy who spent almost 64 consecutive hours sitting inside an ice block in Times Square, and Clipper Darrell was not about to let it slip quietly into a good night of bland food and backless gowns. High cholesterol and higher blood pressure be damned.

"If I was your husband," he asked a nurse, "would you let me leave?"

"No, Darrell," the nurse said. “We can't do that. Your tests haven't come back yet."

Bailey stayed put. But only for one more night. He hasn't missed a Clippers contest since. Which figures. When it comes to pro basketball fandom -- irrational, inexplicable, downright lunatic devotion to brightly colored mesh jerseys -- there is Clipper Darrell, and then there is everyone else. Case in point? When the Clippers recently completed on-again, off-again high-stakes trade for star point guard Chris Paul, Bailey didn't celebrate by texting a buddy. Or high-fiving a coworker. He wept. Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus. Great big salty tears. Only don't get Bailey wrong: It wasn't the single greatest day of his life. He's married. In fact, it wasn't the second, third, fourth or even fifth-best day of his life, either. Bailey has four children. But Day No. 6? Definitely. Definitely better than the time Shaun Livingston's knee all but exploded. Or the time Sterling heckled Baron Davis during a game. Or the time the Clippers actually made the playoffs for the first time in 14 years, and Bailey was so excited that he tricked out his BMW into a custom, red white and blue Clippermobile, and even had everyone on the team sign the hood, only to watch the very same players finish the ensuing season with yet another losing record. "You can't imagine the suffering I've been though," Bailey says. “The mockery. The criticism. People saying, 'Man, why do you even cheer for this team?'"