Growing up, many of us, men and women had football as a part of our Autumn Sundays. Waking up late, going to Church, watching Sunday morning political talk shows and then a lazy afternoon of game after sunny game of football. The drone of the crowd, perhaps a beer or two, snacks and easy, light conversation fills a sleepy day as the sun’s rays cross the tv room with the passing hours. Kids, uncles, sisters, moms and grandmas come in and out of the room, socialise, look out the windows and pat you on the shoulder. Monday night football is different. You’ve spent a long day at work, arrived home, had dinner and are now perhaps getting a little work done before bed in preparation for the morning. You turn on the television and the familiar introductory tune greets you, pulling your attention away from your desk. The crowd is alert on the television, the lights are somehow brighter than the night before, the tone of the announcers more crisp, the vowels cut instead of drawled. Everyone is alert and at attention. The game seems to go quickly, the announcers are more critical and the crowds seems a little antsy. The game ends and you feels a little electricity along the back of your neck. It takes a few minutes to settle down before you can get to sleep.