[Editor's note: Having been honored with a Marshall Memorial Fellowship, our Brad Pearson is off wandering around Europe, ostensibly to develop his leadership skills. Periodically he will check in, as he is doing today with the following post.]
The Cowboys wouldn’t play for another three hours, but there was Joey, fully decked in his Tony Romo jersey. We were at Fat Boy’s Bar and Grill, a most American-sounding bar, except we were in Brussels, so it was likely rather a statement about Americans, via tavern title.
“Where you from?” I asked.
So Joey and I stood there, watching a grainy stream of a Dolphins game pulled from an old laptop, pretending that he wasn’t just a front-running jerk who grew up when the Giants sucked.Full Story