Sunday, December 7, 2008

December 6, 2008

Big day, meetings in the am at B&E with foundation folks. Then lunch with Cogent and faculty. Then the game, the last game for Pat White, number five, a lad of great character and skill. After the game, the wind picked up, the snow thickened, and the weather swirled in a tornado around him. The maelstrom lifted him in the air as the clouds parted above the press box. He rose higher and the angels wrapped in white muslin as they removed his helmet and pads, annointing his brow with olive oil and a laurel crown. The blizzard thickened and in a flash he was gone, all of us aghast. Pat McAfee disappeared too, and the air smelled as sulfur where he stood. Got home late and safe and all evening and afternoon it snowed as the roads got worse and cars careened.

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