Living in the Bold North, we only have grass for, like, 6 months out of the year. The rest of the year, our yards are filled with snow or dirt from the melted snow or sink holes from the melted dirt. Yet, like clockwork, the Y chromosomes in our neighborhood all synchronize on Sunday morning and make the men step out and mow their lawns. Imagine yearning to see green all winter and then when the faintest hint of green emerges, you shout at the top of your lungs, “REV IT UP!” and you begin cranking your two stroke with the ferocity of a teenager. Extra points if you mow your lawn three times a week. ENYWHEY. What else am I supposed to lead off with when it’s June? Let’s get you some players.