Hey Biff, get a load of this guy’s life preserver

Fun fact: Before heading to the game last night, I put on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a maroon t-shirt with a blue-and-white button down collared shirt over it. On my way out of the house, I caught myself in the mirror and realized I was merely an orange vest away from being dressed exactly like Marty McFly.

Little did I know I could have borrowed one from our man Keith Hernandez:


Apparently Tom Brady crying was only the second funniest part of ESPN’s Tom Brady draft special

I didn’t watch the show because it was about Tom Brady, who’s obviously a big stupid jerk, but apparently ESPN managed to interview five of the six quarterbacks drafted ahead of Brady on the miserable day that forced him to consider life as an insurance salesman.

The lone holdout? You guessed it: Former Hofstra standout Giovanni Carmazzi. The explanation is odd enough on its own, but it’s ESPN’s stock footage of goats that elevates the whole thing to surrealism:

Well this is weird

Zach passes along this bit of weirdness from a rain delay during a college baseball game:

The especially strange part is that some of these seem like they had to have been rehearsed. The only explanation I can come up with is that college baseball teams — these ones, at least — participate in the age-old football-camp tradition of performing sketches to build chemistry. (By “age-old” I mean we did it in high school and I’ve spoken to a few people from other high schools that did the same thing.)

My high-school football team went away to some camp in Pennsylvania for a week before every season, and the last night there each bunk would put on some sort of short show for the rest of the camp. The catch was that the bunk with the best performance (as determined by the coaches) got to sleep in and skip the next morning’s 3.5-mile run. So every year the bunk with mostly linemen in it — my bunk — just put in way, way more work on the sketch than everyone else. Junior year I wrote a full musical number that culminated in a kickline.

The annual thorn in our side was my friend Bill, a quarterback, who did such astounding impressions of every coach that his bunk didn’t even really need to script anything to produce a hilarious sketch.