My Jealousy Knows No Bounds

I was already harboring a crush of epic proportions on Lin-Manual Miranda's Pulitzer Prize-winning musical masterpiece Hamilton and now, thanks to Charlotte-based sportswriter slash father of two Joe Posnanski, this little thing exists in the world.

My friend Michael told me something before I saw the show and after he found out how much I paid to see it—I think he was saying it to make me feel better about the expense. He said it is the one thing, maybe the only thing, that lives up to the hype. He was exaggerating to make a point. After all, the Golden State Warriors, when right, live up to the hype. A Bruce Springsteen concert lives up to the hype. In 'N Out Burgers live up to the hype. Playoff hockey, The Great Gatsby, Paris, The Gettysburg Address, first kisses, baseball day games, chocolate cake, all of these live up to the hype. There are many other things too—Messi and Harry Potter and Adele and Kansas City barbecue—that rise up to our highest hopes.

What made Hamilton different, I think, was that in addition to rising up, in addition to surpassing those hopes, it felt familiar too, as if we'd already seen it long ago and are now happily remembering.