There are moments of cool, like the complicated things you’ve been looking forward to (the return of “Lost”) and the simple things that you never expected (Max drawing box-and-one treatment yesterday after scoring two-thirds of his team’s [six] points).  And then there’s the math.

Whether the objectivity of it appeals to you or turns your stomach, there’s lift in the numbers.  You see it in your daughter’s eyes when that new, intimidating formula clicks.  You (or maybe just I) get a little rush when the checkbook balances perfectly.  You feel the bang when the numbers mount, like at Tuesday night’s WOKC auction, and sometimes when they whittle away.

As the final moments of Colts-Saints tick down to zero tonight, another countdown takes center stage, feeding my numbers buzz.  As Peyton or Drew tells us he’s going to Disney World, football will be headed for dry dock for me, fully stepping aside to make room for the hourglass full of rosin.

Eleven sleeps.


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(c) Jamey Newberg
Twitter  @newbergreport

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