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Folks,

It was announced today that Duke will be playing in the New Era Pinstripe Bowl on December 26th, a scant 3 weeks away, in the program’s fourth straight bowl game appearance. Which is a big deal in and of itself, but an even bigger deal because it brings us into the heart of an important season for Duke football fans: the time of the year when—even after the Blue Devils fall just short in an absolute f—— knife twist of a bowl game, and you’ve very likely blacked out and awoken to the cavalcade of felonies you committed in your blinding rage—you can say on social media that you’re proud of your school’s team.

So, to assist you in the crafting of this not-even-worthy-of-a-Hallmark-card, pathetically-pandering-self-serving-missile that’s a shadow of a sliver of a genuine sentiment—barely an eighth of the feels, if anyone’s counting—I’ve created a template. Feel free to fill in to your heart’s content, or in the manner that you think will garner the most likes.

Wow / Man / Shit. What a game / battle / complete nightmare.

We all know that Duke isn’t a football school. But today, we really showed some spirit / pride / onions on that field. And yes, I’m using “we” even though I don’t play football for Duke / don’t know a forward pass from a MetroPass / can’t connect to humans on an emotional level, because that’s how proud I am. It’s crazy to think of where this program was and where it is now. As Drake would say, “started from the bottom now we here” / “you used to call me on my cellphone” / “Duke University is now a football school.”

Coach Cut is really doing a bang-up / heckuva / personally-arousing job leading this program. I mean, if he were twenty years younger and I were twenty years older, I’d let him buy me a nice seafood dinner and never call me again / dance the Charleston with him in the rain outside the pool hall where we’d always run into each other (accidentally, we’d tell our friends, but in our heart of hearts we knew it was no accident) / tell him about that one thing I did back in ’83 and then suddenly become a blubbering mess as, one after one, all of my other secrets come pouring out of this shell I’ve constructed around myself—the shell we all construct, really—and I’m forced to rely on him to nurse me back to a contributing member of society.

So even though we lost today on a hail mary / on a last-second end zone interception / on a play the ESPN announcer–to convey the level of tragedy–literally compared to the Bay of Pigs invasion, I’m still proud of our team. Here’s to next year, when we’ll be in the College Football Playoff / slightly older, slightly wiser / probably dead, thanks to Trump (amirite?).

DDMF.

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