This morning, as the PAC-12 clung to college sports purgatory like it was a puffy coat on a January morning, my niece came to town. She is about nine months older than my three-year-old son, my only child, it is always a joy to watch them play together. She lives across the country, and they’re both only children- so the sense of belonging and understanding they have with each other is as special for me as it is for them. About an hour ago they found each other’s baby pictures, which prompted a surprisingly detailed conversation about the origins of belly buttons, and then a discombobulating storm of emotions in me.
The PAC-12 Might Die, but a Drunk Uncle will Live.
