Sports beefs: Sneak attacks
Let's go back. Way back. To the playground. One minute, you're picking your nose, crushing a dusty red kickball, draining every last drop of Capri Sun from its half-crumpled foil pouch. And the next? You're racing across the soccer field and past the four-square games, pushing your way through a clump of prepubescent rubberneckers, hoping the teachers don't show up. Fight! Fight! Who's tussling? Over what? Catch your breath. Crane your neck. Fight! Fight! Nobody saw this coming.
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