Last night, somewhere between the end of the third quarter and the start of the fourth, I found my mind fixating on the sporting life of Norm Van Brocklin.
What others do in the face of an impending defeat seems to vary greatly, but I’ve always found that there’s no time like a blowout loss to let one’s inner consciousness wander. There’s a certain freedom in knowing that I’ll be able to freely meditate on a variety of subjects until the end of the game that I appear to be watching intently. Most often I’ll begin analyzing overall performances or fantasizing about potential improvements and various lineups.