This week, I start with an ask from you. You, the loyal reader, take a moment, remove your cap and remember our dear friend, Pac-12 After Dark.
For years, as you wound down from the thrill of victory for your favorite team that Saturday afternoon or evening or after you processed the stages of grief as your school’s squad choked away their chances at the ultimate prize, it was there for you. Two teams you wouldn’t lose one iota of sleep over were serving up the pure unfiltered chaos that typically only exists in drunken hand-to-hand combat outside of a college bar at close to 1 a.