For longer than I'd care to discuss, I've been sitting here trying to think of something profound with which to open. Something significant. Something deep.
After all, I may well be penning this column on the eve of history, and I'm certainly doing it at the apex of a months-long crescendo. My sense of nostalgia tells me I should honor that.
Philosophy eludes me on this night, though. And maybe that's for the best. I doubt very much that the connections who labeled themselves dumbasses would have much use for Socrates. Maybe they'd just rather me tell them about their horse's race on Saturday - how a wildcard pace could make all the difference, how it may all come down to guts, or how an old foe might be one standing between him and history.