My friend Ashley Beauchamp (who blogs delightfully about fashion here) sent me this video the other day with the comment that Eric Clapton “looks like a mild-mannered accountant who wandered onto stage and decided to shred some guitar.” She’s absolutely right.
And if that wasn’t an invitation for me to link to my favorite article about football (though not my favorite article about any sport), I don’t know what is.
After all, it’s the article that says “It’s possible to imagine, say, Ben Roethlisberger, if a night took a weird swerve, actually wielding a torch in anger; Peyton Manning would spend that same night at home, in his sock-folding room, folding his socks.”
It’s the article that says “Manning makes being a midlevel IT manager look like a form of ruthless conquest. It’s as if he wrote a script to install automatic PC updates, and somehow it made him the god-emperor of hell.”
It’s the article that says “He goes out every week with a graphing calculator and a stack of forms, and he just audits teams to death.”
And then, in a final brilliant extended image, it compares Manning to the astronauts who landed on the moon.* Go read it.