As a kid, one of the worst things about returning to elementary school in the fall was the annual “What I did on my summer vacation” essay. The pressure of producing a narrative about an amazing fun filled summer that was so much better than everyone else’s was intense, especially when the reality was that I spent the entire three months riding my yellow banana seat Schwinn down to the corner store to buy sweet tarts and candy cigarettes with money I scrounged from turning in my dad’s empty Olympia beer bottles.
But the assignment is compulsory and the offseason is drawing to a close, so endure it we must.