This whole sports watching and analyzing thing can get quite exhausting. Especially when your in-depth investigation and expert commentary are shouted into a vacuum, a cosmic void, a barren tundra, a sunken ship taken over by the sea and its many mysteries, an elderly man’s sterile garage where a mint condition ‘96 Ford Taurus may or may not be parked, an empty gymnasium that smells of farts, a sleepy meadow where you and a lover once walked barefoot and naked in the dewy long grass in search of shade and patch of soft moss to lie down both your bodies and inhibitions. Oh to be young again.
