Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury

Well, after all, this is the age of the disposable tissue.
Blow your nose on a person, wad them, flush them away, reach for another, blow, wad, flush.
Everyone using everyone else's coattails.
How are you supposed to root for the home team when you don't even have a programme or know the names?
For that matter, what colour jerseys are they wearing as they trot out on to the field?