The Second Half Of The Game Was Hard To Watch, But Do Take A Moment To Imagine Being SO COOL AND SO BELOVED

The second half of the game was hard to watch, but do take a moment to imagine being SO COOL AND SO BELOVED THAT AN ARMY OF HIMBOS WOULD COMMIT UNSPEAKABLE CRIMES ON YOUR BEHALF.

Sports are so fucking weird, and the ONLY thing that keeps them from being a religion is the lack of a higher power or an afterlife.

You’ve got: rituals, sacrifices, superstitions, gatherings, songs, festivals, pilgrimages, fellowship, celebrations, talismans, idols. You’ve even got miracles.

These things seem to be more present in certain leagues than others—NCAA basketball and the English Football League come to mind for having teams, coaches, and fans who will go to extremes AS A COLLECTIVE, not just as individuals. They treat their local sports bar like a parish. They have their cathedrals and their songs and their holy-war rivalries.

I understand the inclination to not care. And in many ways, I don’t care either. (American football is a drag at ANY level, and all they’ve got by way of ritual is TAILGATING.) But if you’ve never celebrated a victory—one you truly cared about, one you prayed for—by dancing and singing in the streets with a couple thousand strangers, I recommend it.

The shrink on the radio show in “Sleepless in Seattle” is named Dr. Fieldstone. That’s rom-communism, baby! Who else is keeping a tally of Nora Ephron references in the soccer show? Just me?

“The Mountain Goats are so esoteric and deep and poetic…” meanwhile:

There are only like 3 people who are gonna know what I’m saying here, but I have to say it anyway: if you thought it was cool when the THB ripped those robots’ arms off and fought more robots with the arms, then you’re gonna LOVE the fight sequences in Renfield.

If you take all the songs by Fleetwood Mac and all the songs by The Mountain Goats, then you’ve got all the songs. Every possible human experience is covered by these two discographies.