There's something ironically bizarre about leaving an Australian summer—where cricket rules and the gauge routinely flirts with 40°C (that's 100°F plus for my American friends)— to find myself huddled in Connecticut, where the winter winds bite with the subtlety of a forward-pocket multi-player collision at the
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Trading Sunshine for Gridiron: An…
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There's something ironically bizarre about leaving an Australian summer—where cricket rules and the gauge routinely flirts with 40°C (that's 100°F plus for my American friends)— to find myself huddled in Connecticut, where the winter winds bite with the subtlety of a forward-pocket multi-player collision at the