Alas, watching Luke Hancock & Co. celebrate under the raining confetti in those fashion-forward (i.e. ugly) uniforms made me feel like the kid at the carnival who misfired so badly on the beanbag toss that he didn’t even get his consolation lollipop. (Those were dark, dark days…) A Michigan victory certainly would have been this consolation.
Six months ago, I wrote a column in which I lamented over my sad existence as a Warriors fan and sought to help out my favorite sports team by exposing the blueprint for NBA success. Six months older and six months wiser I now revisit this previously laid blueprint. Try not to laugh.
It was this time nearly a year ago. A battle-tested Stanford women’s soccer team had set out to capture the school’s first national championship, having faltered in the Final Four in each of the past three seasons and in the title match in each of the past two.
A man walks into a restaurant. The restaurant is just another landmark enduring the frigid Minnesota winter. The man, a car-drive away from his Minneapolis home, has recently decided to return to his undergraduate alma mater for business school. He’s rather plainly clothed, apart from a cardinal-red cap emblazoned with a varsity letter S.
A recent high school graduate nearing many first exchanges this autumn, I figured I should at least somewhat flesh out a response to this common inquiry—after all, knowing someone’s name, major and hometown can only sustain a conversation for so long. So I thought about it. Giants? Too standard. Niners? Too bandwagon. Sharks? Too obscure. Sabercats? Well let’s be honest, nobody actually watches arena football for the football.