What the fuck ever, it's been a while, but it's the off-season for the only Buffalo sport to hold any interest this year, the Sabres are a tire fire for whom only merit my mention with remarks such as "Oh God thanks to Jesus they're terrible please draft well and fuck off until then," and I've been reluctant to talk about soccer since it is a bore for the #BillsMafia readers who have inexplicably wandered here in search of Buffalove or some such vague feeling of positivity. Not today. Buffalo is rad as hell, but the only local sport of current interest to an expat living in the Garden State is probably Syracuse Men's Basketball but, seriously fuck that and Go Duke. /ducks
Soccer it is, I suppose.
August to May is the time for English soccer, an unappreciated gem in the US, giving Americans sports at dawn to enjoy over coffee and pancakes and whiskey. The sport that gives you a reason to jump start the weekend with consciousness and, if you invest yourself enough in it, an excuse to avoid the inevitable list of chores your sports-agnostic spouse has prepared while somehow simultaneously feeding your baby, calling a plumber, redecorating your living room with inspiration from a few hundred photos she saw on Pinterest before the baby even woke up, and making a second list of all the ways you've failed and continue to fail her, not the least of which is oversharing relatively intimate domestic details on the internet.
Like I always say, soccer is fun!.
So if you haven't, to reiterate the urging of many posts you might see before the start of each EPL season: try it out, find a side that makes watching the sport fun, and make sure it's not Manchester fucking United.