"On State Street in Ann Arbor, this loud, TV-saturated sports bar turns into a March Madness cathedral: dozens of screens, servers in football jerseys, referee-stripe decor, pennants and jerseys everywhere, and a raucous, bourbon-honey-mustard–stained crowd of men cheering at every call. For the narrator—a gay vegetarian—the menu initially felt sparse (french fries were the only obvious option), though he later enjoyed roasted garlic mushrooms and a fried pickle and learned the difference between fries and potato wedges. Tinted windows and peripheral booths created a curious blend of spectacle and secrecy, providing enough anonymity for furtive Grindr meet-ups to feel plausible and allowing twinks and bears to exist on the edge of fratty chaos. The place also hosted quieter queer social life—Thursday billiards happy hours with Top 40 music, pool sharks, and intimate conversations—making it both comforting and transgressive: a site for performing borrowed masculinity and experimenting with identity. That attraction was complicated by the chain’s broader controversies around homophobia and by a chilling moment when a friend slipped and no one helped, which ultimately made the narrator feel like an outsider and stop going—even as he retained a tender nostalgia for the tinted storefront and the strange thrill of being unseen in plain sight." - Logan Scherer