It is a perfect day for going to a football game. The trees are changing a little, the sky is cloudless and a particularly gorgeous azure, and it is cool enough for hot chocolate but still warm enough to have a beer. It's the sort of day that encourages tweed and a university stripe muffler. It cries out for cider, fight songs, and the endearing thud of pigskin on turf as yet another Princeton pass drops incomplete.
But everyone I know who lives in my state hates sports. Or at least has no sympathy for fake college football. So I am sat with a cup of coffee in my tweed and a deep funk, because the Harvard game is not going to happen on as gorgeous a day.
Honestly, who doesn't like sports?