Last year’s defeat was galling. The Fanboys didst prevail by a paltry point in a desolate conquest of the Hacks. Through the 375 days since, scribes have brooded in obscurity. Just the percussive echo of jump shots in empty gyms, repetition bordering on monastic penance. Muscle memory became manifesto.
On the day of our lord Feb. 19, 2026, the demimonde Hacks exacted revenge with a 43-42 triumph — again, by nary a single count on your finger — to take ascendancy of the vaunted Euclid Avenue. Veteran scribe Justin Girshon was phosphorescent, on all night like a set of porch lights, dialing in from distance against the call-in radio brethren. Fifteen points in his Dome denouement — a career apogee, a magisterial valedictory blaze.
“I remember, bro, I was so down, mad,” Girshon ruminated on 2025’s fizzle. “I was like, ‘How did we lose this game?’ Like, we didn’t play too well, but like we were in it, like we had a chance. And, it’s been a year in the making.”…