Acceptance

Man, I had the craziest dream. It was a nightmare, really. The Patriots were going to the Super Bowl and they were finally going to put that whole “they haven’t won anything since Spygate” thing in the rear view. That wasn’t the crazy part, though. The crazy part was that just as this was about to happen, the Patriots got caught up in another cheating scan-

Wait, what? 

That wasn’t a dream? 

That wasn’t a dream.

 

It is, as the man said, what it is.

The last 72 hours were an emotional roller coaster. I feel like someone put a beer funnel in my psyche and poured in a 100 proof mash of denial, anger, bargaining, more anger, twist of lime, depression, yet more anger, followed by a dash more depression, finally topping it all off with a rum and coke of sweet, sweet acceptance.

Technically, it isn’t over but yeah, it’s over.

It will still probably be a day or two before I’m back to the game itself but I’ll get there. We can’t let the haters win, after all. I’ll count the days till February 1 and hope Belichick and the Patriots have made Super Bowl XLIX into their own personal pigskin mission.

Not to shut up the “not since Spygate” haters. Fuck those guys. They’re so 2007.

Not to kick the Ballghazi fan boys in the, well, balls. I get the sense they need a villain; someone to blame for everything that’s wrong with their miserable lives. Someone they can fantasize about anally raping while wearing their NFL authentic Wes Welker Broncos’ jersey. Who am I to take that away from them?

And not for the fourth ring.

Not for any of that.

I just want to see the sour, pained look on Roger Goodell’s beady-eyed, lipless face as he hands the Lombardi Trophy over to Bill Belichick.

While Belichick smiles and shakes Goodell’s hand, in a luxury suite at a Vegas casino, a gunsel with a silencer takes out Jim Irsay like Moe Green at the end of “The Godfather” with a bullet to his right eye while Irsay is snorting coke off a hooker’s ass. No need to deal with John “Barzini” Harbaugh. Isn’t living in Baltimore punishment enough?

And then Belichick leans in and says, “Fuck you, Goodell.”