Every summer for the past seven years, I’ve lived in a tiny town near the Catskills of New York State. Two years ago, we changed locations so that our picture window faced a towering hill behind a university. At the top of this hill, high above all the other athletic fields, is a wide swath of mowed lawn surrounded by wilderness. At one end of this lawn stands a set of football goal posts, rising up out of the grasses like Druidic ruins.