Act One: Rise
Four hours. Sleep is the price I pay for negligence. I put off doing my English research paper, on the delightful art of sportswriting, until one in the morning, eventually concluding it’s subtly insane contents at 3:00 AM. There I was, scattered sources splattered all over my desk, one corner nestling a brilliant Best of book featuring the work of Tom Verducci, in another, a hard as nails pigskin pamphlet written by Mike Freeman. The paper was decent, despite an out of nowhere diatribe against Mike Lupica featured on the bottom of page three. Bitterness is a powerful thing, my friends.