Someone wrote 900 words about the Finals Day mascot race and we should probably confess that we were that person.
The piece sort of almost has a point, but doesn’t quite. It hints at a point, it has a whiff of a point, but the point is never quite made.
It’s possibly something about seizing the day, or maybe it’s about the social dynamics that underpin the best of the British summer. Maybe it’s just a paean to people with foam heads on running about a bit.
Read the thing here and judge for yourselves.