With no way to hold my head, that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast
Wasn't bad so I had one more for dessert
Have you ever felt a sense of loneliness and despair, yet a yearning for change? That’s what life is like for most people who struggle with addiction. They know deep down in their inner soul, during moments of clarity, a truly better way of life is out there for the taking, just not today.
For those awaking to a new morning, there is something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone. So said Kris Kristofferson, the legendary songwriter and performer, in his classic tune, ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’. And he can relate to his words. Kristofferson wrote this song while living in a run-down tenement in Nashville when he was working as a janitor for Columbia Records. He was told that if caught pitching songs to any artist he would be fired.
While the song remains one of my all-time personal favorites today, the title applies to a favorite theory of mine in college football. It involves teams playing games during the regular season on Sunday, as opposed to a normal Saturday. The fact of the matter is their body clocks are not quite in synch, and when taking to the road they tend to be a bit more out of their element. As a result they, too, can come down on Sundays. Here is how it works -
on a Sunday during the regular season.
Simple enough, wouldn’t you agree? And it works, too, as these road teams tend to perform like binged-out junkies on Sundays, going just 12-19-1 ATS prior to the 2008 season. Furthermore, when they tackle a foe that they defeated in their more recent meeting (those seeking revenge) they dip to 1-10 ATS.
If it smells like ‘Kentucky’ Fried Chicken this Sunday your senses are right on as the Wildcats of UK will be in this SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN ‘play against’ role at Louisville. FYI: this article was contained in the 2007 edition of the BLACK BOOK™. Ten all new Super Systems for this season are available in the 2008 BLACK BOOK™ – available at www.PLAYBOOK.com or by calling 1.800.752.9266.
Yes, as the man says, there’s certainly “something in a Sunday - and the smell of someone frying chicken - that makes a body feel alone. And there’s nothing short a’ dying that’s half as lonesome as the sound of the sleeping city sidewalk, and a Sunday morning coming down.”