I recline by the side of a pool in Maui, working on my tan and sipping a pina colada. To my right is an open-air bar in which a group stares upward, enthralled with the Arkansas-Florida game on the tv hanging from the corner beam. To my left, the hotel – a many-storied tower of sliding glass doors opening onto patios overlooking the pool. Suddenly there is the simultaneous ejaculation – “Noooo! That was the worst play ever!” from the bar on my right, and wild cheers from an open sliding glass door somewhere on my left. I smile with my secret knowledge that Urabn Meyer is the most ruthless love-em-n-leave-em son of a bitch that hit the NCAA in a long time. I never said it was a good football poem.
Monday, December 04, 2006
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