It's that special time of the year when even Cleveland Browns fans believe that hitting on a draft pick or two could propel them into the playoffs. Every team's fans feel this way. Well, except for Jets fans, of course.
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It's that special time of the year when even Cleveland Browns fans believe that hitting on a draft pick or two could propel them into the playoffs. Every team's fans feel this way. Well, except for Jets fans, of course.
There are times when you simply cannot give up hope.
There are times when all you’ve got is hope.
The rest of this post is about football.
Time is a difficult concept. On the one hand, it’s fixed and rigid, a finely measured, Morgan Freeman-narrated countdown to our utter and final oblivion; on the other hand, it feels like I’ve got way too much of it right now, almost like time wasn’t an arrow but an unmeasurable amorphous glob of viscous, vibrating goo. And I’m stuck hip deep in it.
Well, it’s three days later and I still can’t believe it. My pigskin heroes, the New England Patriots, are going to the Super Bowl.
My pigskin mind is boggled.
The New England Patriots are going to the Super Bowl. Again.
"The future's uncertain and the end is always near."
The Doors, Roadhouse Blues
How many timelines are there in the pigskin multiverse and how can I avoid the timeline where Jarrett Stidham turns out to be the best-kept secret in the history of all sports for all time?