From here:
No one in his right mind wants to return to the days when, on any given
Sunday, a football fan could only watch one game at a time (if that!)
on the tube. And yet . . . isn't there something slightly appealing —
something wonderfully, sleazily romantic — about the notion of
driving to a discreet little motel; setting up director's chairs on some
inexpertly shoveled asphalt; lugging the old black & white outside;
and watching a game beneath a forbidding, overcast sky before retiring
to a warm bed with over-starched sheets and the requisite rickety
headboard, the adamant knocking of which will keep the grinning
neighbors up deep into the night?
Oh look - they're watching one of
my high school football games.
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