There’s a point with every book project when I officially lose my mind.
Today, I have arrived.
If you read this blog with any sort of regularity, you know I’m working on a biography of the old United States Football League, the three-year spring venture that died via Donald Trump after the 1985 season. Well, today while interviewing a former Oakland Invaders employee, I was directed to this delicious craigslist offering.
Yes, that’s right—for the low, low price of $19,000 you can have all of the Invaders’ old shit. Tape reels, pads, uniform pants, helmets. It’s the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and were I a man of limitless means, I’d offer $50,000, just to scream, “Guess what, bitches? I just dropped $50k on a bunch of old shit!”
Alas, I don’t have $50k or $19k or even $5k to spend on a bunch of USFL material. But the drool dangling from both sides of my mouth speaks to what it is to obsess over a subject with such intensity that, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking, “Hmm … only $19,000 …”
Don’t tell my wife.
