This week, we step out into the harsh sunlight. The studs from our boots scratch along the rusted metal. The tyrant Luigi takes his place between us and our goal. His group of carefully selected (and exclusively green) Birdos stand in waiting, ready to strike, their eyes stare right through us. We rush our sweating bodies from one end of the pitch to the other, only to find our true nemesis, the crocodile from Coco-pops. We kick the ball into the hole. The crowd screams. We have won. It is over.