Is There a Fork in My Back?

Rationality is unfamiliar real estate for most sports fans. This despite the fact that hope so rarely triumphs over reason. Perhaps that’s why, when the underdog wins, it creates an indelible memory. The unexpected moments in life, the unpredictable moments that cause us joy or pain; they stay with us.

 

When you measure success in championships then anything that falls short of that expectation is failure. As they put Rob Gronkowski on the cart the forks came out. The Patriots were done. No Super Bowl for you. The defense, minus Wilfork, Mayo and Kelly and with Aqib Talib’s balky hip limiting his impact, has been unable to stop even below average NFL offenses. With Gronkowski the Patriots had a chance to outscore opponents but without him their most important offensive weapon became kicker Stephen Gostkowski.

They stumbled in Miami, unable to finish drives with touchdowns. Following the loss we heard the chorus of pigskin pundits and bobbleheads say, “I told you so.”

Smug bastards.

They travel this week without five Week 1 starters (and Gronk) to face perhaps their most bitter conference rival, the Baltimore Ravens. While the Patriots have been breaking down, the Ravens appear to be hitting their stride. New England will need to play their best game of the season – at a time when this seems most unlikely – if they are to win today. Normally, “as long as they have Brady” would be enough but Tom has not been terrific when facing the Baltimore defense.

When your inner child is starting sentences with “Even if they lose this week…” you know it’s time to make a fort with your couch cushions and throw pillows but even if the Patriots lose today, they still could secure the #2 seed (granted, with some help) with a win at home against the Bills next Sunday.

There’s a subtext to “even if they lose,” of course. There’s still a glimmer of hope, a faint expectation of success; if they lose, not when they lose. Still, I hear myself whistling and I notice I’m walking past a graveyard as I’m rationalizing a long winter’s night of potential pigskin agony.

Crouching in my pillow fort I realize that being rational is a major bummer. It’s also hard to eat pizza and drink beer in here. I think I’m coming out.

This could be, after all, one of the most memorable games of the year.