Week one
The game: Patriots at Bengals
The beer: Ipswich Steam Punk Lager
The result: Win, 16–10
The record: 1–0
The headline: “Repetition… fearful living.” – Unwound, “Unauthorized Biography”

The commentary: I mean, what took me so long? “Journal entry number twenty”—it turns out Unwound could have kicked this whole beer-and-football thing off XIV years ago! Conversely, I might have saved it for season number XX, but what fun is that? If Trump wins we’ll all be killed anyway.

(Fun fact: this is beer-and-football entry number CCXV. Captain Cardona, xylophone virtuoso. Also: WE MUST REPEAT comes in green now! They went straight to armpit stain tones this time around.)

Last season’s closing “Can you picture what will be?” is answered with another question because that’s what it means to be a post-Brady, post-Belichick Patriots fan. No one wants to rewrite anything about past success but it’s been time for, oh, almost three years to demand some answers. “I’ve had it!” There’s an answer!

G. went to orchestra rehearsal Sunday so that meant I had to kill time—about a third of the game’s worth—at a bar to watch some live football, though “the method” (“NFL+,” etc.) will no longer get a callout because who cares (and who reads). The bartender won me over immediately and not just for his BRADY jersey—when another patron said the Bengals were favored by eight, “Brady” and I looked at each other and said “That’s it?” Later, when my (for now) man Jacoby Brissett handled a bad snap, we agreed that that’s why he’s starting the season: “He’s a pro.” Right on. (For now.) I dozed off awhile as he talked about expecting big things from Rhamondre Stevenson because he’s on his fantasy team but, not long after, he was rewarded with the game’s first touchdown. I mean, we don’t have much else on offense, so yeah.

Sixteen points and a hundred twenty passing yards won’t win many games this or any season but a strong defensive performance headlined by favored, respectable role players against a soft Bengals team is a good start. I’ll take it. (For now.)

Up next: U mad bro? Cheers!