In a move that has shocked political analysts and frustrated historians alike, President-elect Donald Trump made a dramatic entrance at the highly anticipated Army-Navy game, trading the Oval Office for a premium football suite filled with all the exuberance of a tailgate party and none of the paperwork. Witnesses report a noticeable shift in atmosphere as Trump and his entourage—comprising Vice President-elect J.D. Vance, Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, and Daniel Penny—settled in to savor the game while "USA" chants rang through the stadium like a nostalgic echo of campaign rallies past. "Who needs foreign policy briefings when you have a front-row view of cadets tackling each other?" said an anonymous source inside the suite, who also noted that the only briefing happening in there involved the best nacho toppings for optimal game-day enjoyment. As the Army and Navy took the field, Trump's eyes sparkled with the wonder of a man who has successfully avoided another awkward encounter with world leaders in favor of touchdown celebrations. Attendees in the suite reportedly took a break from strategizing over tax reform to conduct an impromptu personality test on celebrities by sending off tweets to see if they could coax a response. "We figured it was the perfect time to leverage social media influence," said Vance, scribbling hashtags on a napkin in between bites of a foot-long hot dog. With every touchdown scored, there were more cheers—scarcely rationed with the concern typically reserved for budget proposals. Meanwhile, cameras picked up the reactions of the football-loving crowd outside the suite, which ranged from awe to bafflement as the former president's shouts of “Fake news!” reverberated throughout the stands following a questionable referee call. “If only they’d consulted Trump first!” exclaimed a fan adorned in Army colors, “He would have probably negotiated a better deal on that call!” As halftime approached, it became evident that traditional wartime spirit had been transformed, with Trump proposing to replace the National Anthem with “Eye of the Tiger” in front of puzzled military officials. Plans to rename College Football Hall of Fame to “The Trump Football Palace” were half-jokingly discussed amid laughter, although a few onlookers couldn't tell if they were in an actual locker room or an awkward pitch meeting. Despite the jovial atmosphere, the looming reality of governance lurked in the background, with whispers of Trump's growing obsession with the game and concerns about his grasp on national security fading into the delightful din of crashing helmets and spontaneously generated choreography in the suite. Political savants collectively cringe as scenarios involving peace negotiations via football bets were vaguely mulled over, but none dared to probe into that territory for fear of unleashing another wild tweet storm. As the game unfolded, nothing could distract the crowd from the spectacle—except perhaps the curious sight of Mike Johnson perfecting his touchdown dance moves, which had an incredible influence on the next generation of House Representatives in attendance. In the end, the Army-Navy game became more than just a matchup of fierce rivals; it transformed into a symbolic battleground where politics and sports collided, with our soon-to-be 47th president joyfully orchestrating a new era—one touchdown at a time.