And today we celebrate that great, annual feast of the plebeian religion called football. The gods of San Francisco and Baltimore might not really exist, but their usual cultists will be joined today by most of the other adherents of this polytheistic faith, to conjure an exhibition of strength by the padded priests of the gridiron. Those other local gods, of cities across the nation, having been eliminated from the celebration by the complex theology of rankings and playoffs, sleep until revived after Labor Day.
You need not be a man of the people, but you can certainly be a man for the people. Feast away.