The beer: SingleCut Frequency Lager
The headline: “Don’t you know that I’ll always be true?” – Iron Butterfly, “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”

The commentary: Three generations of Halfenhalfs returned to Patriots training camp after a year’s hiatus and it’s just as well we missed Matt Patricia’s failure to sit up straight and build a functional NFL offense. Good riddance. Similarly, eerily, anticipation for the post-Belichick era is building—I await “Handy” Bob Kraft’s passive-aggressive effort to strip the coach of his GM duties and the resignation that results. Enough.

Training camp, though. Hot as fuck. Crowded as fuck. New structures erected on the hill—our hill—blocked the view of the practice fields so we fled up the ramp and, shit, it’s a pretty good view from there! Look, Matthew Judon is running a series of half-speed sprints because he was apparently “holding in” for a bigger paycheck with which he was rewarded a few days later! Close by, two punters and two placekickers compete for roster spots as if special teams is one third of the game! And yonder! Oh no! Mac Jones hasn’t completed a pass longer than eight yards the entire… hour?… we watched before G. badgered us into grabbing a late lunch at Red Robin! This offense remains a problem! Shudder.

Walking across the Gillette campus we spotted two great wonders of Foxborough. The first was the stadium’s new video board, on which Handy will likely watch the world’s largest pornography. The second was someone wearing a number sixty David Andrews jersey who, for once, was not David Andrews. Good call, superfan: he might be the third-best player on the team.

On the way home we heard “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” and, holy hell, my daughter liked it!

Me: This song’s pretty long, are you up for it?

G: How long?

Me: Seventeen minutes!

G: Seventeen minutes?? What can you even do for seventeen minutes?

I’ll tell you what you can do. You can drive all the way from Needham to Burlington in heavy interstate traffic. Reverend Lovejoy doesn’t know what he’s missing.

I just uncovered a note—thanks, Google Keep!—from last season that never made it into a game recap because, I don’t know, I rewrote The Dark Tower instead. Bills game? Who knows:

Evan Washburn checked in after halftime to demonstrate how cold it is by turning a supposedly frozen water bottle upside down only to have water pour out of it.

No wonder Michele Tafoya grew so full of hate.

Up next: One month to find an agreeable “diary” lyric. I am in trouble. Cheers!