These Sunday night games, man. They’re killing me.
By the time I finally got into bed last night, it was well past midnight here on the east coast. And while there was once a time when midnight meant it was time to finally leave the house and go out - even on a Sunday, I was that cool - nowadays if I make it past 11 I consider myself a rebel.
The good news is that, usually when the Patriots lose a Sunday or Monday night game, I’m up all night stewing, staring at the ceiling, lamenting the loss and trying to figure out what went wrong.