Pigskin Destiny

Destiny. Sometimes it's fortunate. Sometimes it's tragic. And sometimes Destiny's a stripper.

Do we ever really control our own destiny? 

Aren't there typically other parties involved? 

Sometimes with dragons? 

I mean, I get it when I read that the Patriots "control their own destiny," but that's kind of like saying that Frodo controlled his own destiny in his quest to reach the fires of Mount Doom. Yeah, sure, he made it, but along the way he got bit by a giant spider and his happy ending wound up costing him a finger. It's more like destiny controls us and not the other way around. And Destiny, it seems, is a cruel, daffy, savage, moody, pole-dancing exotic dancer.

What the pigskin pundits and bobbleheads really mean, of course, is the Patriots will make the playoffs if they win all of their remaining games. 

Maybe I don't really know what (or who) Destiny is but I do know crazy. It's often confused with destiny, because when something truly crazy happens we like to think it was fate. I know we crave meaning in the desperation of our workaday lives, but just because there's an underlying, recursive pattern to chaos doesn't make it destiny.  

Sometimes, it's just dumb luck; the random beating of a butterfly's wings.

I've seen crazy happen before.

Crazy can and will happen again.

Maybe it needs to.

At this point, it isn't about making the playoffs for the Patriots; the playoffs have already started for New England. Win and you're (still) in. Lose and you're (probably) out. 

So, let's get out there tonight guys, and control your destiny! 

Go Pats!