I find myself in a peculiar emotional stasis concerning my grandson's recent football championship. The entire neighborhood, of course, is ecstatic—flags on every porch, incessant congratulatory calls. But I remember watching the final minutes, the trophy presentation, and feeling this strange, distinct hollowness, almost a lack of appropriate joy. My grandson, you see, was benched the entire game, his best friend sidelined due to some coach's decision, watching from the bench while the other boys celebrated. It simply felt... incorrect. My wife says it's just 'boys being boys,' but I suspect this particular sentiment will persist.