An Embarrassment of Riches

A co-worker swung by my office today.  He asked me if I felt bad about the way the Patriots won.

“No,” I answered, without hesitation.  Because I didn’t feel at all bad about it.

I feel pretty good about it, actually.  Why shouldn’t I?  Do you think Bill Parcells and the New York Giants felt bad when Scott Norwood’s 47-yard field goal attempt went wide right?  Did the Steelers hand the Lombardi Trophy to the Seahawks after Super Bowl XL because the referees made not one, not two, but three terrible calls that tipped the game in Pittsburgh’s favor?  No?  Yeah, I didn’t remember that happening, either. 

Hey, I’ve known loss.  Losing hurts.  I’m not going to miss rolling in it when it’s a win. If you’re a fan, you don’t make the waves, you just surf them.   

Hang ten, bra.

Shanked

Foot.  Ball.  Fate.

Indefensible

Order has been restored.  Defense still wins championships.  Well, not yet, of course.  Pigskin Pundits and Bobbleheads seemed very much like self-righteous, puritanical church deacons pointing to the fall of those sinners in Green Bay and New Orleans as a sign of what happens to those who ignore the fundamentals of their faith.  They will be struck down by God’s own zone blitz.

Perhaps I should say order has nearly been restored.  The New England Apostates have yet to be dispatched to Pigskin Purgatory.

Semi-Final Thoughts

After such knowledge, what forgiveness?  That – with props to T.S. Eliot and apologies to Billy Shakespeare – is the question. 

“…Think now

History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors

And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions,

Guides us by vanities.”

-      Gerontion, T.S. Eliot

Opus 63: My Name is Michael and I am a Patriots Fan

The first team that I ever hated was the Oakland Raiders.  As a young boy I rooted for the Denver Broncos PE (Pre-Elway).  The Raiders would routinely roll the Broncos.  I feared the Raiders.  And I hated them.  They were savage, inhuman, unfeeling, bloodthirsty creatures from a drive-in motorcycle vampire movie. I was young so I cut myself a little slack.  I was clearly irrational when it came to the Raiders.  I can see how crazy that was, because I am no longer a child, I’m an adult.  I’ve got a house, a family, two cars, a high stress job I may or may not survive (I like my chances), a kid in college halfway around the world and two indoor cats.  My name is Michael and I hate the Jets.

Running Up the Score on Jesus

Then there were four, one of them riding a pale horse, wearing a hoodie.

I Wanna Be Sedated

I have spent the last 48 hours being subjected to a one-two punch of the tenth anniversary of the Tuck Rule and recent Patriots failures in the playoffs.  When there’s a break in that action, I’m asked to consider the possibility that Tim Tebow may, in fact, be the second coming of Jesus Christ.  Through all of this I’ve come to the undeniable realization that I’ve really got to cut down on the coffee.