I’ve spent the last seven years or so despising the Patriots. Hating the way they somehow miraculously benefited from the “Tuck Rule” game in 2002. Disgusted by the narcissistic smugness of Coach Bill Belichick and the striking resemblance he bears to my last boss, a grinch that was recently arrested for possession of child pornography. And absolutely sick of Tom Brady, the golden boy with the supermodel girlfriend, the Super Bowl rings, and the super hair that stays perfectly coiffed at all times. (Seriously, how does he do that? Even after he takes his helmet off on the sidelines, it looks like a stylist has been primping him for a GQ ad or something. I don’t get it.)
Anyway, fall arrived and another season was upon us. And with the addition of Randy “Straight cash, homey” Moss, I was more than geared up to viciously root against the Pats.
And then my fantasy football draft happened.
For the 15 million Americans who play it, fantasy football can significantly alter the way a game, and the sport as a whole, is watched. As in, “Oh, please score a touchdown here. But don’t run the ball, definitely pass it. But don’t pass it to that guy, pass it to my guy. And then please go for two instead of kicking the field goal. My opponent has this team’s kicker.”
See what I mean?
It also has a way of turning some of sport’s least desirable figures into players we cheer for on a daily and weekly basis. When Terrell Owens was being sent home by the Philadelphia Eagles two years ago for detrimental misconduct, he was also on my fantasy team. I defended him relentlessly and unapologetically, even going so far as to also defend his agent Drew Rosenhaus, a man whom after the ordeal I deemed a rat and a terrible human being. I’ve felt that way about him ever since, until I saw his moving and clearly sincere speech about Sean Taylor at Monday’s funeral. Now I’m not so sure. Like I said, I’m conflicted and confused.
So when my league’s fantasy draft date arrived, I was far more concerned with picking up great players than avoiding those I dislike. When hundreds of dollars are on the line, subjectivity abruptly gets thrown out the window. I mean, I like Jake Delhomme. Just not enough to let him ruin my fantasy team. Again.
As a result, I ended up with about half of the New England Patriots, including the golden god himself, Tom Brady. “Hey, no big deal”, I naively reasoned. “I’ll just pull for them to play well but still lose. It’s perfect.”
But something happened on my way to the fantasy football playoffs. After 14 weeks and one nail-biting Monday Night Football game, I think I’ve come to a crossroads as a Patriots hater.
Somewhere along the way, I actually started liking Brady and Co. I began to enjoy watching them pick apart defenses like a well oiled machine, and I marveled at how methodically they bullied their opponents, like some oversized 6th grader walking around the playground randomly punching kindergarteners. You know someone should probably step in and stop it at some point, but part of you can’t help but be impressed.
“Wow, did you see the way that last kid went down?! I think that was the hardest punch yet. I’m pretty sure little Timmy won’t have to worry about eating his vegetables for a while….well, unless it’s through a straw.”
On top of it all, I’ve enjoyed the way the Patriots have ripped opposing teams’ proverbial hearts out this season, by piling on points and showing no sense of mercy or sportsmanship. Too often, college and professional sports are diluted with this politically correct idealism that all competitors must play to win, but not by too much. After all, winning by a large margin may ruin the post game activities, where both teams sit together at midfield sipping hot chocolate and singing Kumbaya. And we wouldn’t want to mess that up, would we?
The Patriots could care less about how losing 52-7 or 56-10 makes the players on another team “feel”. And I like that about them. What’s more, fans across the country have worked themselves into a malicious revulsion for the Patriots, giving me even more pleasure in rooting for players on a team that bring so much grief to so many others.
Doesn’t that sound like something a Yankees fan would say during the 1990’s? Ugh. The very comparison sends shivers down my spine.
I knew I was beginning to appreciate what the Patriots have done this season. But never was there a moment when I considered myself a fan of the team as a whole. So when the Baltimore Ravens had the Patriots on the ropes facing certain defeat Monday night, it was the quintessential David versus Goliath storyline in the making. And what did I do?
I cheered for Goliath.
Not only did I cheer, I stood inches away from my television, agonizing over every incomplete pass and fist-pumping every Brady first down in that emotionally draining 4th quarter. And as I exhaled in relief after the game, it dawned on me that I was no longer simply pulling for the New England players on my fantasy team. I was pulling for the New England Patriots.
Once again, ugh.
My rooting for the Patriots this season is what many would call the very definition of “jumping on the bandwagon”. I prefer to think that I was blindfolded, kidnapped against my will, and forced to drive the bandwagon in some Speed-like movie sequence. If only Keanu Reeves could hop on board and save me with a Peyton Manning jersey or something.
So for now, I'm uncertain as to what my future NFL fandom holds. Maybe after the fantasy football season is over in week 16, I’ll go back to hating the Patriots just as I’ve enjoyed doing in so many previous years. Perhaps by the playoffs I’ll be angrily shaking my fist at Bill Belichick and once again calling Tom Brady names I probably shouldn’t repeat here. One can only hope.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go send Terrell Owens a Christmas card.
It’s not often a man gets a second chance in life to correct a mistake, to redeem himself and exorcize the haunting demons of his past. On Sunday, Peyton Manning got what may have been his final chance. And in the bright lights of the RCA Dome, with the world watching, he made the most of his opportunity.
He may not be willing to publicly admit the personal magnitude of Sunday’s game, but this playoff game against the Patriots was going to be the defining moment of Manning’s career, no matter the outcome.
Lose, and he’d be forced to come to terms with the real possibility of never winning a championship despite a likely guaranteed Hall of Fame career, and the painful acceptance that Bill Belichick and the Patriots were truly the mountain he could never climb. Win, and the proverbial #### could finally leave the shoulders it had been clinging to for so long.
During the Patriots last minute drive, Manning sat alone on the sidelines, his head bowed and hands clasped together, admitting later that he spent the time praying. During the few brief moments that curiosity forced him to glance towards the field, it was impossible not to see the anguish upon Manning’s face as Tom Brady took the ball for one last chance at the end zone.
It wasn’t a fear of losing; it was the feeling of helplessness. After coming this far, Peyton was forced to leave his destiny in the hands of the quarterback and the team that had destroyed his Super Bowl aspirations time and time again.
We’ve all seen this story play out before. Brady and the Patriots have made a living out of last minute comebacks, of game winning kicks and touchdown drives that ripped out the souls of the opposition and their fans.
Even the Indianapolis faithful had to sense a feeling that the hammer was going to drop eventually. After all, isn’t this what Brady lives for?
This time was different. With the seconds dwindling in the final quarter, Marlin Jackson intercepted a Brady pass to seal the Colts win. And with that, the weight was lifted. For all the talk, deservedly so, that Tom Brady receives for his three Super Bowl championships, it’s impossible to get there without a little help.
For Brady, it was the superb kicking of Adam Vinatieri over past seasons that propelled him to legendary status. And while it’s highly unlikely that Jackson will have the same impact in defining Manning’s career, it may just be the break he needed to prove he belongs in that elite group with the greatest quarterbacks of all time.
There’s still one hurdle that Peyton and the Colts must face in Miami against a gritty Chicago Bears defense. And a loss in the Super Bowl could very well revive the criticism among NFL circles that Manning folds in pressure situations.
But any allegation that he can’t win a big game can certainly be put to rest once and for all. This was indeed a big game. And for now at least, the demons are vanquished, the critics are silenced, and redemption has been found.
Enjoy it Peyton; your prayers have finally been answered.
