Well, shit. How in the hell am I supposed to be a cynical now? I was just trying to get through the day mocking the idea of adult men being put on pins and needles by teenagers making the personal decision of which school they'd most like to financially exploit their talents until Cooper Dawson came along with a contagious amount of compassion. All I wanted to do was have a bad attitude towards one of the traditions in college sports that brings the most irrational and unhinged of fans out from under the school-colored rocks from which they throw stones at largely unknown kids, and all the sudden a bad attitude is the only true disability? Don't get me wrong, my heart might as well have been nuked in the microwave with how quickly Cooper Dawson's announcement warmed it, but Kingsley Feinman didn't just tear me up, he also tore me up on how I should view National Signing Day. This feeling...I think it might be unbridled optimism, for these glasses suddenly seem rose-colored after having just been clouded by pessimism. I might have to leave the tumultuous dinner table that is twitter for the afternoon. I'm rather enjoying having a good taste in my mouth for the time being, and it's all thanks to two friends who really summed up the human spirit of a practice that's only made creepy by those living and dying with the decisions made during it.
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