One more time.
The last time the New England Patriots won the Super Bowl I was 18 years old and about to travel to New Mexico. For the next seven years my team would get back to the big game two more times and lose each time. The first time they play in the game since I moved back to Massachusetts three years ago, they win. Conclusion: any time the Pats play in the big game I may have to be in the bay state.
I haven’t been to bed. While part of that is my own insomnia-related issues, there is another part of me that can’t stop sharing or liking or writing pseudo-aggressive posts on twitter, as if I achieved something by watching the blue and red win.
There are a couple reasons I’m happy we pulled it out. The first is the obvious one: this is my childhood team. I have an inordinate amount of patriots apparel in my closet, on my walls, and in other various areas. Football, to me, has always has an almost religious effect (I love a good tangible application of faith). Seeing that validated always gives me a renewed sense of purpose – from the preseason on (although last night has a much higher pull on me).
The other notable reason is if I would have had to read an off-season’s worth of articles about legacy, scandals (by the way, why hasn’t “#slantgate” happened yet? Everything that happens in a society deserves a #_gate, right? Right mainstream news?) or pro-seahawks hype, I probably would have seriously began to look at stopping my computer usage.
My nerves were weird this game. I usually don’t have big nerves before a game. This one was different though (obviously). There was the magnitude of the game and the fact that a couple extra people were in the room that I typically watch. But when the pats first scored (The LaFell catch, I believe) I eased up and got hyped a bit. I proceeded to look for the DJ Kool’s “Let me clear my throat” so I could post it on social media and be annoying. Maybe (and by maybe I mean definitely, #humblebrag a little. Or maybe “Sorry, not sorry”. I don’t know, I was going to do something.) talk a little trash. But I lost track of what I was doing and got swept back into being entranced by the game.
Cut to the end of the third quarter, the Patriots are down ten. My mom’s a nervous ball of energy, my grandfather’s cussing under his breath that they’re going to fucking blow it, and my dad keeps pacing between rooms, watching the game on just about every tv in the house. But then NBC came back from commercial break. Over the stadium loudspeaker you could hear:
I had no doubt in my mind we were going to come back at that point. There may have been a little doubt with the kearse catch, but that was gone in like two plays (Malcom Butler is a god).
Now it’s nearly 7:00 a.m. and I am staring at Patriots.com and trying to figure out which t-shirt I want, while scoffing at the prices (they want like $32, what happened to $19.99?). The rest of my day, or until I pass out, will be spent combing over the newest stories surrounding the game (namely what new memes arise), continuing my search for employment, and maybe working on here a little bit more. The reason I bring it up is because it’s funny how life goes on. While the players may have a bit more time to relax, a lot of the coaches go back into scouting mode for the combine at the end of the month. There’s always the next thing. I guess, for today, that’s my inspiration.
This has been one long season of football. And I enjoyed every minute of it.