May your favorite team meet on the back nine, execute a flawless double-dribble into left field, and really stick the landing in the ninth inning… or whatever football has. I don’t understand any of it, but I respect the passion, the snacks, and the deeply emotional relationship you have with men in tight pants chasing an oddly shaped object.
I’ll be over here being supportive, cheering when everyone else cheers, and waiting patiently for the Bad Bunny show, which is the real championship as far as I’m concerned. 🏈
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