Monday, September 30, 2002

Shit. I remember those damn games. One game in particular where I decided to be the star QB. I was throwing, running the option, kickoff returns-- I was everywhere. Man, I was good. I woke up the next day and could not walk. Really, I could not walk. My little stick legs had given up. For three days I would hobble to the refrigerator and back to the couch.


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