UNC ’15. Rumble, young man, rumble.
“The trumpets! Wait. Is that a trumpet or a sax? Why did you stop playing the sax? You were so good in jazz band. Oh! That’s Jazz. The New Orleans Jazz.”
It’s funny how the same thing can be expected in one place and magical in another. It makes me wonder what else I’ve taken for granted. What other things have drifted past without ca…
At some point I looked around and realized that even though I’d grown up around snow, it wasn’t until I saw it through the eyes of North Carolinians that I truly learned to love it.
He’s then handed a treat of some sort, which for a second seems like it’s meant for him, and he honestly seems a little sad it wasn’t. I would have let Steven Adams eat that dog treat.
The answer comes. It is yes. It is always yes. Maybe our faith will weaken one day. Maybe the rink will no longer feel sacred. Maybe ice will seem to have finite possibilities. But not yet. Not this year.