I’m starting this column at 1:36 a.m. CST. Not because I’ve been procrastinating, but because I’m moved by football. In my 27 years of living, few things make me feel deeper than looking out an seeing a green expanse, perfectly lined, 120 yards long by 53 1/3 yards wide.
Why? I don’t know. I will never know.
I hear NFL Films music, and I feel a stirring that reminds me it is alright to be a kid again. For three hours every autumn and winter Sunday, I can forget about another school shooting, another terrorist attack and the latest debacle on Capital Hill.