It's about 5:00. I've been shivering in a sixty-degree classroom, grading papers (well, trying to grade papers) as the Seahawks battle the Giants in overtime. Every time Feely misses a field goal, the Hawks choke on offense and give him another chance--but not a good chance, because the defense miraculously holds, even when Tiki Barber appears to have busted a big one.
But I can't take it--I'm hungry, I'm cold, I need to go home. I gather up my gear and run out the door. In the time it takes to get from my classroom to the car, Feely has missed his third consecutive attempt, and the Hawks finally put together a drive and win it on the strength of Josh Brown's leg.
I should have left much, much earlier.
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