The Most Important Thing
Sunday morning. Never start with I. But I'm afraid. For this wonderful world as I knew it, have known it. Having scanned NYT headlines this morning, I'm afraid. Someone in one of the bestselling apocalyptic novels wrote prophetically about the ending of the world beginning in the Middle East, and it has done.
The world is best of all when the most important thing is college football. Walking down University Avenue, jeering hostilely “Yankee go home” as a top down convertible loaded with cheering Miami students speeds by minutes after the Hurricanes beat the Gators 20-7. December 1, 1956 and they beat us all four of my years at Florida. It was real. It was the way it was. It was the most important thing. Where's that time-turner?
Football season welcomed back after the hottest summer on record, and to see Harbaugh start rebuilding MGoBlue and target Ohio State, CFB today is an escape from what is real into that world that was. BTDT, want to go back. Platform 9 3/4 and where's my time-turner? Where's that Wardrobe?
All three of my teams won yesterday, but because I'm shamefully, congenitally profane, and a heart patient, and when they lose I'm like, “It's the big one, Elizabeth,” I no longer watch the Gators play football. Especially on Thanksgiving weekend. I read, and Linda yells to me from the next room, where the TV is blaring the most important sounds.
Read the Sunday morning sports page . Don't read the headlines, they'll scare the hell out of you. The world needs to return to the important things. Ranking the Gators in the Top 25. Next Saturday in the Swamp. Next year in Jerusalem. Keep those prayers going up.
Thos+ mucking through +Time+