The time that passes is a frustratingly slow grind. No big plans or recipes, nor are there the usual assortments of imported drink, all replaced by laundry folding, floor cleaning and anything else I can direct my nervous energy towards until 6 o’clock finally rolls around. I don’t want to hear about the game or even think about it. My neighbor shares that he was able to wager on a -6 Pats/+18 Giants teaser…that makes it worse because then I start to think about how it’s come to this last day, and the perceived risk of that wager is so low…the WEEI crew has turned Patriots fan-dome into a neo-evangelical experience, with a victory today only the surest of sure things that there ever was or ever will be. You are damned for all eternity if the cocky swagger doesn’t appeal to you (unless you’re a player or a coach on the team of course), with doubt being the sin of eternity, never to be washed off, and never forgiven.
Sorry about the game, Al. I’m disappointed too, but probably not as much as you are. There’ll always be next year, though, and the Pats won’t go away as long as Brady’s still around.
Hey Napoleon:
I just looked at your superbowl prediction, you predicted the game just not the result. The defensive line of the Giants won the game they were able to get to Brady and get his timing off. It was a good game, I wish the result had been different.