I never played organized football. My backyard was the playing field for my most important games. Rules were optional. There was no padding. Conditions were cold New Englandesque. My cousin Russell came closest to being a star. As a freshman he ran back a punt for a touchdown against my Alma mater Boston College. After that feat he recognized that he would never make it in the NFL.
“That run was a once in a lifetime thing. Everyone is too big.”
Russell and I now experience out-of-the-body football ecstasy through the NFL.
Sundays.
Beer and football.
None of us speak of Afghanistan.
The Patriots were good to me through the 00s.
And other years as well.
Go Steve Grogan.
“I hear people say that I was one of the toughest quarterbacks to ever play. But I wish they would say I was pretty good, too.” —Steve Grogan
They sucked today, then again the sun doesn’t get to shine on the same dog’s ass every day of the year.
I sat at Frank’s with Tim throughout the entire debacle. He’s Jets fan. Tim poured extra drinks on the owner. I was the only patron. My last drink was Jamesons. It really does taste of Ireland and that taste takes away the bitter sup of defeat.
Wait until next year.
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https://www.mangozeen.com/2009/10/02/life/in-the-words-of-albert-finny.htm