The vicarious excellence of sports

When my mind wanders, as it so often does, to great Packers moments of the past, it lands with some regularity on Ahman Green’s 98-yard sprint to glory.

I can see it as though I was there, although I wasn’t. I can tell you where I was, though: in the living room of my grandparents’ two-bedroom duplex on Willow Avenue in Cedar Grove, Wisconsin. I can feel the texture of the light brown carpet on the floor. I can see the pattern on the couch — sorry, Grandpa, the davenport — and the placement of the Delftware on the shelves in the kitchen. I know how the air would feel if I stepped out into the December cold.

And I can see Green take the handoff headed right, tucking in behind Kevin Barry and Bubba Franks on the right side. It’s a no-doubter before he crosses the 30-yard line, and Green keeps the hammer down the entire trip, every step the picture of athletic perfection.

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