Last week I lunched with a very happy couple who happened to be my sister and brother-in-law. We giggled and joked through bread and butter to the main course when my sweet brother began a diatribe on Notre Dame’s football team. I peered over at my sister when he began and saw the pain in her eyes. It was not so much the topic, but the long, play-by-play account he communicated to his two disinterested lunch dates.

After about ten minutes of five yard lines, fourth downs, and running plays, my sister interrupted him with, “You are the worst storyteller ever!”