Fast and violent. Fast and violent. Stars dim without fuel. 60 mins of Steele should smell like a WWI trench. Rotting bodies, gang green, limbs sawed off at the joint. ACC offenses best bring their Bible to the game, because the bloodletting I'm about to bring upon thee will make them all believe in the power of God. It's going to look different, either come to witness it, or smell the fetid tang of despair waft across your Dania Beach condo. When I chit, it smells. When I fu*k, it smells. When I go ATM on the missus for 3 days straight, only imbibing Green Tea and licorice lozenges, it smells. And when I blitz, bring the cadaver dogs and neutroline because body effluent festers in the South Florida heat. Anyone can make a tackle, but can you enter the body of your opponent, can you feel his pancreas, can you re-eat what he ate last night. That's the athlete I am looking for, no matter his star power.