SMRs and AMRs

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Pigskin Pride and Prejudice

By MAUREEN DOWD, NYT

WASHINGTON — I dreamed of Peyton Manning.

In my dream, I was trying to shield him from the bitter wind in Foxborough. But he still looked like a frozen block of ice, with a red nose and watery eyes.

Yet it was so much better than my usual nightmares about President Ted Cruz that I wondered why I hadn’t started watching football a long time ago.

When my sports-crazy family would drone on about football at holidays, I would sometimes slip into a bedroom to take a break with Jane Austen.

I had no interest in hearing about sulky brutes cracking heads. When we were children, my brother christened my kittens with the names of Redskins linebackers and slammed their little heads together — until I caught him. I was worried about concussions long before it became a cause célèbre. Kitty-cussions.

Re-reading Austen, I could get lost in a fascinating honeycomb of relationships. I could delve into a rigid male-dominated hierarchical society with pompous wealthy overlords and opportunistic strivers and alluring young protagonists faltering with immature misjudgments and public opprobrium.

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