A Trip to Football Heaven
Last night, I dreamed I went to football heaven. As I walked toward the bright lights, I could hear the faint roar of a crowd, and as I passed through a turnstile, I was greeted by the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and cotton candy. I was welcomed by a large man who might have looked intimidating elsewhere, but here looked as threatening as a newborn kitten. He introduced himself as Deacon, and said he'd show me around. We headed out to the left, onto a large field of the greenest grass I'd ever seen. Just ahead a group of young men in green ran a loose scrimmage, laughing as they ran plays. The only thing greener than the grass was the "M" on the helmets, and though I didn't recognize the players individually, the unmistakable chant of "We are Marshall!" from the few spectators gave their identity away. Standing among the players, alongside a man with a clipboard, was another man I recognized. He was wearing a houndstooth hat and looked as much at hom...