Chapter One
On the Sidelines.
I missed so much about being in the States. Certain foods in New York are delicious beyond description and only available in the Big Apple. Roy’s donuts on Fifth. Sure, it was a living cliché, and Roy’s sugary treats had probably killed more cops than any strung-out junkies had done, but my god they tasted good.
So, there was the food … but then there was also football. Or American Football as they called it here in London. I loved the game as much as any other New Yorker—I’ve always been a Jets guy, screw the Giants—but more than the actual sport, I missed the fanaticism around it. I missed the fire.
Before everything went to hell, I spent a lot of time thinking about football.
I thought mostly about those commentators who used to be players. The gray-ha
