Call me Uncle Proud. Third down in the red zone. The slot receiver goes in motion, takes a hand-off from the QB and sweeps left, makes a deft cutback and bulls over the goal line: paydirt. Touchdown. No. 10, my ten-year-old nephew, conveniently named Danny. Thirty-three years after I suffered a crushing loss to the arch-rival Sabres while wearing the Bulldog Blue and Gold, Danny started the payback early with his first quarter TD, and the Bulldogs never looked back. Revenge, even a third of a century later, is oh so sweet, especially when it's a blood thing. Look out Cleveland Heights, bragging rights are mine.
Also saw a great movie, today, Cold Souls. Go see it.
Meat Puppets-Touchdown King
Elvis Presley-Danny
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