Well, it was less as a social scientist then just as my own personal career arc. I grew up in upstate New York where Syracuse basketball is really big. And I was born in 1967, so the Big East Conference in basketball was formed when I was 12 years old. So the Big East, and it's really its great decade of the 1980s was basically my high school and college years. And Georgetown of course, was the Darth Vader, if you will of the Big East Conference and the team that everybody, except for DC residents and Georgetown alumni, love to hate. I went out to get a master's degree after I got out of undergraduate and I started in 1989, so my period in the 90s was coinciding roughly with the dominant era for Florida State football and coming off the decade of a dominance of the team with the best record in the 1980s, for football, which was Miami, and they are still rivals today, even though that rivalry is not as intense as it was in the 80s and 90s and even the first decade of this century. And so I found myself weirdly hating both of these teams and sort of convincing myself that I hated them for affiliation reasons for where I grew up and where I went to school, and there's certainly some truth to that. But as I wrote the book, and as I write in the foreword to the book, the preface to the book, like I, I am guilty, probably as a kid who grew up in as a white guy in the suburbs of upstate New York, of sort of buying into this not so subtle, I was gonna say a racial undertone and a really a racial overtone, that both of these programs carried as sort of a quote unquote blacker program than some of their competitors, even though of course Syracuse and Florida State had ample numbers of African American, and in the case of Florida State, Latino athletes on their basketball and football rosters in the 1980s. And in that preface, I end by saying something to the effect, I wish I had written this book, then because I would have been able to appreciate those teams in a way that I hated them back then. And so basically, the emphasis of the book is very personal for me, because I love sports, as you know, and as you do, and I was a freelance sports writer during my graduate school days in Chapel Hill and covered the Tar Heels. So I covered mostly women's sports, women's soccer, women's basketball, but I was always the second beat writer for men's basketball and men's football. So I usually covered the opposing locker room, and the opposing coach and the opposing press conferences, I didn't get to do the lead stories, I would get to do a lot of feature stories on athletes. And so I love sports and college sports in particular. And I just, it was sort of a book as a journey for me through the 80s and 90s, of my own sports fandom. And subsequently, my own research, as you know, writing a book with Tyson King-Meadows, our former colleague about Black state politics. And so it was a weird intersection of my sort of lifelong ambition to be a sports writer, which was unfulfilled, except for as a freelancer, and my technical full time career occupation, as a political scientist, who writes about matters of race. And I guess with the luxury of tenure and a book contract from, from a University of Nebraska Press editor and a literary agent who took a chance on somebody who's never really written anything formal in sports, gave me a book contract to write about what was the meaning of race in the 1980s, broadly in college sports, but with a specific focus on these two programs, which I argue were sort of on the leading edge, or at least very much pioneers of black affect and the black style, as Bill Rhoden of the New York Times calls it. And I think these two programs fundamentally changed college sports in an indelible way, even if they're not the programs and not the sort of outliers that they were 30 years ago.