Let us agree to call it football for the remainder of this essay, since that it what it is when you disallow the use of hands and reward intricate side-stepping.
Where are you from? I do not mean where you currently stay. Nor do I want to know of your college. Your school. The place where you work for money. The places where you spend that money. The places where you save that money. The place where you had your first kiss. Or lost your virginity. Or heard Bob Dylan's divine cribbing for the first time. Or met your spouse. Buried your dad. Circled self-indulgent truths. Reconciled with life's stylized facts. Failed an exam. Ate an ice cream after breaking up. No, not those trivialities.