Loving the 14 point spread
The pre-game show is amazingly dull, in spite of the cast of thousands on the field jumping around to the sound of really, really bad music, and your friends and neighbors laugh at the spectacle; we all agree that the poor slobs who pay $1000 a ticket to be in the stadium shouldn’t have to endure such torture. As the kick-off draws closer, I begin to move to the front of the crowd to sit on the floor with a few other party-goers, but you hook my elbow with your hand. You grin at me and...