Welcome back to where you’ve been, where you are and where you’re going. Welcome to the joys and frustrations of snowballing agony and agape (the Greek word for love, not the adjective for something that’s really open).
What was once a 2018 Super Bowl swell looks to be downgrading to something far less potent.
Though, ponder with me for a moment. What really happens if the Falcons don’t win it all this year?
For the long-term Dirty Birds in our flock, gruff mumbles fill the air. “Well, at least it’d be familiar.” For the others around the campfire, that glorious visage of 28-3 rectified in a home game and a Peachtree Street parade grows foggier in the rearview.