Here with a guest post for making the closest Week 1 prediction is Mr. Irrelevant reader/commenter Sam Potasznik.
Last night, some friends and I got off the Metro, and I was shocked to find myself right outside FedEx Field. The streets were empty, and we tossed a football back and forth to each other in peace. No obnoxious drunks? No mile walk in the freezing rain that soaks through your boots and socks? Oh right. I was dreaming.
I could hear the announcers and the crowd, and I could somehow see through the stands to the field. Maybe the stadium was sunk in the ground? I don’t know. Don’t ask me how dreams work.
Inside, the game was starting. We were playing some sort of Vikings-Patriots-Dolphins amalgamation, and Belichick was putting Brady and Bridgewater on the field together at the same time. It was weird, but it was working. We were losing.
I walked under a brick archway and took my seat in the upper deck. There were so few people in the stands, but they were all enjoying themselves and stretching across the empty seats. A guy in my section showed me his novelty glass he got at a bar in New Orleans. For some reason. It was shaped like a rocket ship, and we laughed about it, as you do. The Vikings-Patriots-Dolphins scored, and I was pissed because it wasn’t Jarvis Landry, and I had him on my fantasy team. Even in my dreams I’m bad at fantasy. We were losing.
We were losing, but it didn’t matter. The sun was out. The beer was cold. Sometimes Alfred Morris would do something good.
After waking up from the dream, I feel better about my favorite team than I have in a long time. I immediately threw out the hundreds of blog ideas that had been floating around in my head. Before the season, I was so fed up with everything from swinging gates, to the racist name, to wondering why we support a business that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us in the first place. But today those frustrations feels smaller.
I decide to follow my dream’s advice for enjoying the season and accept the losses. Jay Gruden won’t make me happy. Kirk Cousins won’t make me happy. Dan Snyder and Bruce Allen definitely won’t make me happy. So I’m done expecting them to. We’re going to lose a lot of games this year. Sometimes I’ll watch the games, sometimes I’ll read about them and talk about them with my brothers and friends, and sometimes, maybe, Alfred Morris will do something good.