Saturday Afternoon in America

We’re tired. We’re stressed. We’re hurricane-weary and hash-tagged out and mad as hell and we’re not gonna take it anymore.

So I’m sitting at the Panera reading my paper in Wilmette, Illinois on the first frosty morning of Autumn when I notice bands of purple people bedecked in ski caps and scarves and gloves, marching in for their takeout coffees and vanilla frosted cinnamon buns. That can mean only one thing. Northwestern home game!

If you’re a New York Giants fan your season is already over (and if you’re a Yankees fan you’re so sick of sports you’re thinking of learning new hobbies!) But the crisp cool air, brilliant blue skies and the thought of an utterly meaningless football game for which I had no rooting interest, appealed. So I hopped on my Schwinn, pedaled 10 minutes to the stadium, and scored a ten-dollar ticket from a fan at a tailgate party. Wildcats-Cornhuskers Big 10 football. In real life! Sometimes it is nice to remember the simple pleasures.