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It's a nearly empty pitcher at Duddley's Draw.
It's a walk around Spence Park.
It's throwing a pair of double barreled middle finger freedom rockets at work, getting in a car with your pals, and hauling ass to wherever the Aggies may be.
It's the Texas heat feeling just a touch crisper and fresher - if only in your mind.
It's the sensory overload of a college campus when juxtaposed to your banal corporate nine to five.
It's chuckling watching those college kids... utterly clueless to just how good they have it.
It's looking at an SEC gauntlet schedule and envisioning a clear path to Atlanta.
It's getting on a plane full of maroon at IAH or DFW and taking the party on the road to Oxford or Baton Rouge.
It's cracking wise with someone from Tuscaloosa or Athens and knowing that while you're still the 'new guy', you're now with family.
It's Johnny.
It's checking your phone a couple times because you know in your heart it's a lie to suggest you don't care what happens in South Bend Saturday night.
It's knowing that we're not satisfied with where we are, but we're quietly confident we have the coach to take us places we've never been before.
It's having the gumption to poach a legend they call Chief from a crazy, successful neighbor.
It's a baby-faced blue chip with a golden arm and the potential to be the best quarterback in the Southeastern Conference - if not the nation.
It's a palatial football fortress built for the Aggie congregation for the next 100 years. It'll be telling your grand kids about the concrete Kyle of yore that swayed, slaughtered cell phone signals, and was closed in proper fashion by the best player in program history.
We're now in Year 4 of Kevin Sumlin. The concrete in the foundation is finally beginning to set. The leadership is in place. We're hopeful that SWAG finally comes with a little bite and fortitude. What we know is that we know nothing. One day, we're told A&M is going finish last in the SEC West. The next we're told the Ags will be one of the four best teams in the country.
It's laughing when these blowhard talking heads say with conviction they know what will happen.
It's smiling when a man who feels more like your grandpa gets on ESPN Saturday morning and reminds us all that football is fun.
It's a group of young men who are sick as hell of being told they suck on defense, stepping between the lines, and morphing into heat-seeking decapitators.
It is fun. It is beautiful.
This is college football. I hope you love it.