Dear Summer, Please Go and Die

I took my kid to a playground the other day and it smelled like football. If you've ever played football (or any fall sport, for that matter, but I associate it with football because that was the fall sport I happened to play), you'd recognize that smell. Smells like clipped grass mixed with condensation mixed with OH FUCK YEAH FOOTBALL WOOHOO GODDAMN RIGHT BITCH!

You walk onto any local high school football or soccer field early in the morning right around this time of year and you can pick up that scent, especially if you put on a helmet and lie face down on the grass. When I rode the bench in dipshit prep school, sometimes I'd just sit there with my helmet on during team stretches and stare at the ground, my head suspended in the air by my chinstrap. Sometimes I'd forget to stretch anything and the position coach would come and yell at me and tell me I was a gash. I was not a good athlete. But man, I loved that smell. It's basically there to tell you that fall is arriving, and summer is about over. Thank fucking Christ, summer is over.