Is there something juvenile about laughing at a grown man wearing tights, touching his bag repeatedly while a big voice says "Cousins, out of the gun," only to arrive at a false start? Surely. That won't stop me from showing it to you anyway.But let me proposition a grand metaphor: maybe—just maybe—this single play contains within it everything that is the NFL preseason. Bear with me here: aren't we all just waiting around for something bigger to happen, man? It's a type of masturbation, the preseason—a simulation that doesn't mean anything. It's not the big moment. It's not the big sex.Amidst this all, there's someone trying to narrate the experience to give a measly preseason dress rehearsal more weight, who says "Cousins, out of the gun." There's the incest: why would hearing about cousins cause this man to touch himself? Love is confusing. Football is confusing. Even if it is his name, it's pretty perplexing that hearing his own name would cause him to touch himself. The eroticism of the NFL is well documented, but what I'm getting at is that all of these players are trying anything to get themselves, and their egos, in the mood for the big dance.Meanwhile, confusion and mayhem ensue. Nothing in particular causes one Washington lineman to step to the side with a very balletic move. He has forgotten how to play. The off season made him weak and his instincts dull. Who knows if he's even going to play in the regular season? His future is uncertain, and he gesticulates with a motion that can only be described as bewilderment and a shrug. Like a simultaneous statement of "oh no!" and "who cares?" See what I mean?Meanwhile, standing behind him is a man, touching his bag repeatedly, up and down. Did I mention that?