... my parents and I went on a walk. It was a beautiful day in suburban Littleton and I don't think any of us really felt like watching football anymore.

Up the street and around the corner we went, and as we walked we made our way through as much small talk as possible. How my grades were in school, how my car was running, how many trick or treaters they had on Halloween, and basically anything else that gave us an excuse to talk about something.

Eventually though, as it always does, the conversation steered back towards the Broncos and we were once again wallowing in the pain of our favorite team's defeat.

This isn't unusual in my family, in fact I think it may even be biological for Schaffer men. My grandpa, my dad, and now ...

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