We have this ritual in our house.
First, televised Hog hoops game—we declare it Ribs and Pigs.
It is almost always a Wednesday. Then, I go get us some barbecue, and we eat ribs watching the Hogs. Usually, they are stomping some early-season cannon fodder. And, usually, we are seeing some new players we have read about, but have not seen. Our fingers and faces crusted over with sauce. I yell at some lousy defense, even though we’re up twenty.
We did this, pretty much as described above, Wednesday of this week. ‘Cue? Check. Pudknocker victim? Check. New players? Check check check check check check check. Sauce on face? Check. Lousy D? Check. 20-point win. Check.