You Can’t Win ‘Em All

tom-brady-hats-off.jpg

It is the first Sunday of February, Superbowl Sunday. My undefeated Pats against…that team that Eli Manning plays for. Most of America is sitting together in front of their big screens licking the salt and French onion dip from their fingers.

I’m guessing somewhere around 90 percent of the people who watch the Superbowl aren’t fans of either team, but they watch it because it is an undeniably American tradition. It’s a social event. One in which the men get together to shout, stomp and squirm while drinking cheap beer and eating salty snacks. The women watch to see the commercials, or maybe the half time show. Or probably just to see the beads of sweat drip down Tom Brady’s heavenly face.

Like I said previously, the Pats are my team. Since my conception I have been born and bred a fan of all Boston area teams. I feel I have to make this known as I get skeptical stares from strangers who ask which teams I follow, baseball: The Red Sox, football: The Patriots. I’m not one to watch basketball but if I were I would follow The Celtics. Let me remind you. These three teams happen to be the best teams in sports at the moment. This was not always the case, of course. This is why I feel I have to make it apparent that it has been instilled in me from childhood to be a die hard fan of these teams.

At the moment I happen to be wearing a 2003 Superbowl championship shirt (Patriots of course) not on purpose but because it is my favorite shirt to lounge in. Must be a good sign.

My neighbors who live in the apartment below are having a Superbowl party. A group of at least 5 or 6 guys. Ever-so-often I can hear them jump up out of the seats and shout, “OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT!?”, or “Oh, COME ON!” The force with which they jump is so strong that my coo coo clock skips a tick and the orchid plant that sits atop my television set trembles and the delicate petals threaten to fall of the stem.

I turned the game off sometime during the third quarter as I was sure that Tom Brady and Co. couldn’t be beat by the lesser Manning brother. I’m guessing I spoke too soon, as I am now being bombarded with taunting text messages. The Giants win. Am I disappointed? Of course.

But…

I happen to remember the days before Tom Brady, when The Cowboys fingers glistened with Superbowl rings, when the Pats were just another mediocre team who weren’t much more than choke artists. This being said, I am used to let downs, to disappointments and regret to close calls and to defeat. I’m a Red Sox fan for God’s sake. I remember the days when The Babe’s curse loomed over Boston, the days before Pedro, Nomar, Big Papi and The Dream Team. Today’s champions used to be yesterday’s underdogs and that’s what makes being a fan of these teams so special. The losses are always hard, disheartening, baffling even. But the losses are what make the victories well worth it.

Advertisements