Once again, I was fortunate enough to enjoy Blue Gold Weekend from the relative comforts of the 504 area code. To be fair, at my age and with my systolic, I was lucky to just be alive. But in any event, and with my history with The Shirt, I look forward to its unveiling and to that of next season’s forlorn hope with a mixture of excitement and nausea.
This year’s The Shirt does to the eyes what a heaving ocean does to the stomach. There are worse horrors in the world, but if we can send a “very powerful” armada to threaten the Indian Ocean North Korea, surely we can spare a few Tomahawks for The Shirt.