I am often struck by the anxious inferiority many well-educated British people display towards the U.S., particularly Londoners dazzled by New York, when many postcolonials are accustomed to regarding Britain's old imperial cosmopolis as the true capital of the western world.

But there’s something about Watonka, they say. Something that pulls us back, the electromagnet that holds all the metal in place. It’s the food, they say, or the chicken wings or the sports teams or the people or the way the air over the Skyway smells like Cheerios on account of the old General Mills Plant.

I'm not going to give it the big 'I am' now that I'm a New York Times bestseller.

New York is the greatest city in the world.

New York is my favorite city in the world.

I want to own the New York Jets, that's what I want. And I absolutely believe I am going to own the Jets.