Judge Richard Berman issued a notification that he won’t be anticipating a decision on Deflate-gate for 72 hours.
For those with math problems, we can translate that to mean roughly three days—if you live by the 24-hour clock.
We have nightmare images of Jack Benny blowing the horn at midnight to resolve this mad NFL tempest in a teapot.
We see the Twilight Zone clock taking us to another dimension, heading out past that signpost up ahead. We just crossed over into the Goodell Zone.
The sands of the hourglass are now trickling at an alarming rate.
72 hours? That’s three more last meals for Tom Brady.
Our atomic clock is ticking away, but string theory seems to be tugging on the footballs being passed around during preseason.
Time and tide wait for no man, least of Roger Goodell. Those 72 hours will seem an eternity except to those who pay lawyer’s a retainer out of a fund supplied by billionaire friends.
For those pacing the floor in their small federal prison cells, this is a tight squeeze awaiting reprieve for a man who has committed no crime before his time.
It’s hickory dickory dock as Goodell runs up the clock.
We cannot fathom the length of 72 when it is measured on the time/space continuum. Is there a portal or black hole we can use to reach the destination more efficaciously?
In dog years, this would be the flick of a wrist or the batting of an eye. Alas, we are mere mortals—and the waiting is aging us.