In yesterday’s column, I lied to you.
I tried to succinctly generalize how I spend my football Sundays, and I said I watch them at home. I do not. I watch them at the home of my father.
For those of you playing along at home, you might’ve recalled my column on this two seasons ago when the Steelers won the Super Bowl. I went to my dad’s house. It’s tradition. Plus, he has a bigger TV and better food.
I just wanted to clear this up for my loyal readers. Dad, does this post satisfy you? 🙂
