If you’re of a certain age, you can remember the OG Nintendo.
The graphics were, I promise, cutting edge for 1991 and the cords (cords! like we were Amish!) stretched plenty far enough if your recliner was within 38 inches of the TV. As much of a miracle as it was that we even made it out of the 1990s relatively unscathed, the most damning indictment of the whole era was that our entertainment was predicated on our ability to blow dust out of a cartridge.
That’s right. If the game was not working correctly, we would eject it from the console, turn it sideways, blow into it like Indiana Jones cleaning dust off a glistening artifact, and reinsert it confident that the magic of air had solved our entertainment problems. If it didn’t work, no big deal—repeat the process and just blow harder.
Again—borderline miracle we’ve made it this far as a society.
I only tell you this boring old man story because a few teams need to take the cartridge out of this season, blow into it, and try again.
Like Vanderbilt. Come on down Vanderbilt. Come the hell on down.