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2010-06-24 - 3:03 p.m.

How do you describe a noise, made by humans, that you've never heard before? It's like describing the best meal, or like describing the Grand Canyon. I'll say that 200 people jammed in a bar, after a goal, sounded like a jet engine. Did it sound like a dam breaking? Like silence and then a million pennies striking a tin roof, over and over again, for two, three, five minutes?

And I know it's just sports and I know it's just a ball and a field but, you know, fuck it. If I felt it, it must be real, right? Because there's the field and the ball but then there's what happens on the other end, the slapping hands so hard it hurts, the feeling afterwards that you've emptied out your insides, that you need a nap, or a shot of bourbon, or the act of making love slowly, or a cry. My friend sent me a text message afterwards. "Out in the alley crying. My brother cried. I'm embarrassed but fuck it."

I promise to, one day, write about something other than sports or writing. I know there's more out there. But for now, those are my kings.

How's this? It sounded tribal, like the revelation of some secret so good that the only response that worked was to top-volume shout, to top-watt smile.

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