It goes without saying that there has been precious little happy thoughts to muse upon here at the Deeg of late. Sure, Scizz and Yachter have firmly pronounced their excitement about NASCAR and Linsanity, and Apologist is - if he cared to share here - fascinated with the NBA season's progression beyond just the could-be-flash-in-the-pan Jesus loving Asian-American from Palo Alto, but these are not matters of sport life-and-death (to the extent there is such a thing... which there is...). Even Yachter, the Deeg's Crown Prince of Hyperbole and Contrarianism, would admit - as he has already - that watching the Knicks these days is fun, not fanaticism; the joy increased, in aggregate, by the absence of any true possibility of pain.
Of course, it goes without saying that the true, shared foci of our fandom are little more than utter disappointment of late, leaving an understandably jaded tone to much of what we might say here about our Bills or Sabres.
Which is why, at the tail end of a tiring week of work with moments of excessive drinking mixed in, I'm overjoyed to talk a little bit about the Liverpool Football Club and their upcoming shot at taking home the League Cup.