A Premium Price for Soft Football and Empty Desks
September is finally here. The calendar has turned, the temperature is threatening to drop, and the sweet smell of freshly cut grass and IcyHot is wafting through the air. This is the month where the talking stops and the hitting starts. Or at least, it used to be. I sat down at my typewriter this morning, poured myself a mug of black coffee that tastes like battery acid, and opened up the wire, o...







