Football’s great. It’s something to get all passionate about. Yelling at the screen is required. Expletives are standard. That’s what you do. But not the folks I was around this weekend. You’d thought I was at a fuckin’ christening or something solemn. Maybe a frikkin’ colonoscopy. Whatever. But come on, guys, grow a pair and yell. I know the ladies are around blabbing on about curtains and diets and shit, but don’t just sit there on the couch all catatonic like because you’re scared of getting the stink eye from the missus. Yell. Scream. Taunt. Talk shit. Don’t be a pussy. If you keep carrying on like this, I will summon the ghost of Vince Lombardi to haunt you in your sleep.