Special thanks to Sheryl Monks for giving me a place to unload all my sports baggage. Enjoy my first column.
A collection of personal essays, Peanuts & Crackerjacks pays tribute to life’s most undervalued and effective instructor: the world of sports.
On the evening of June 11, 2017 just a few minutes shy of midnight, with a bowl of stale pretzel fragments on my lap and an empty can of Pabst Light on the coffee table, I came as close as I’ve ever come to throwing it all away. Forever. I swear I was a hair’s-width away from ending it and never coming back.
In that single moment, I had reached the limits of my tolerance for tyranny, barbarity, and ruthlessness. The stench of double standard plucked at my nose hairs and raised a misty film over my eyes. But mostly there was envy. Born from the fatigue of watching my enemy win and then win again, the treacherous, green villain crouched down on my chest and hung there, suffocating…
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