bierkergaard

I indirectly credit the mid-1980's Eagles for my transformation from a good student to the once-in-a-generation towering intellect that I am today. Here's the story. In that era, the Eagles got beat, a lot. And badly. In my college dorm I would watch the bludgeoning weekly with the burning question how are we going to lose today? A concrete crucible cubicle of pain. Inevitably, I thought the next game we would finally win. But, the same result, week after pathetic week. A loss. Like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football, my hopes would be dashed against the rock-strewn fields of reality. I would feel like crap the rest of Sunday, Monday, and part of Tuesday. I would get bruised by it all. And would come back to the Master on Sunday for another whupping like a dog.  I finally arrived at the point where I refused to watch further Eagles games and started to head to the Library to study. That one decision moved me from the loss category of life to winning. I had figu...