Ever get something really right, long before the rest saw your wisdom? Ever make a prediction that the masses mocked and then get called a clown? And then it wound up happening exactly as you predicted?
It’s rare, but delightful and delicious.
Such a rarity happened to yours truly, on September 22, when I wrote an obscure, rarely-read piece on the Giants. At the time they were toiling with two losses and zero wins, and were flanked by an army of cynics.
Then I wrote that the Giants were not dead, impaired or imperiled.