We cov­er a lot of ground on the dri­ve, stuff I would­n’t admit to just any­one. It’s good to have a set amount of time for some one on one. We see each oth­er at par­ties, but it’s nev­er time by our­selves.

We get there a few hours ear­ly because it isn’t so much about the game as hang­ing out with the two friends I don’t see enough. There’s a cool­er full of snow and beer, and the food is com­ing in pro­tein; pigs-in-blan­kets, ground beef nachos, chick­en fin­gers, crab dip, meat balls.

For a night, I’m with guys who punch arms, exchange ver­bal jabs, and laugh at blue col­lar jokes. Two lit­tle girls run around, and no one ever lets that change them. Now they’re fathers, but they’ll always be real men.