It's My Fault

Last Tuesday morning I awoke with a start, in a panic, stressed out. I got up and walked around the house. I told myself it was all a dream:

Tom Brady was injured. It was either the Super Bowl game against the Giants or the first game of the season against the Giants -- there was some confusion in the dream itself due mainly to the blinding catastrophic nature of the event. It was revealed his left knee and ankle had been severely injured and he would miss the entire season.

I awoke, convinced myself it was only a dream, that it hadn't happend, that all was not lost and all was still right.

Then there is the fact that for the first time ever I fantasy drafted a Patriot; I drafted two: Tom Brady and Maroney. Oh, and my team name is TomBradyManCrush. Well it was, now its TomBradysKneeCrushed; I am a masochist.

Blame it all on me. My actions in the fantasy/dream realm have caused this horrible catastrophe. I gave up watching football and fantasy yesterday as soon as I watched the play. I will now stop dreaming as well. I will look forward to Sundays for Meet The Press and it being the day before the work week starts. All is lost.

The thing of it is: Is this what Magical Realism is? Dark, Black, Bad Magic.

On Your Condolences

This has happened before. Only it was much, much worse; though this is still pretty bad. That's the brighter side to my current melancholy; rather, the excuse. It's not abject depression like in 2003 with the Red Sox. It's a more like a numbness. We've suddenly been forced to look up and see how large the universe actually is. That the immortality of perfection and a win tonight was never as close as we thought it was, no matter what we tell ourselves -- or how Russell Crowe makes us feel. We have always been small after all. And in that lies the numbness and melancholy of a reality we thought we could transcend for a moment, for a game.

So if you feel like feeling this feeling I have, if you care to offer to me a "Sorry, man. That hurts!" Well, you can "Stuff your sorry's in a sack." Because here's the deal with losing: it also makes no sense. And don't tell me it's just a game. Because it most conveniently, and undoubtedly is. There is no debate there. Yet losing is always also losing.  

The universe is a large, large place. I have just now had my head lifted. 

The Paradox Of Winning

Much has been said about the current success of Boston sports teams over the past month. In fact, Sunday marked the last time a Boston sports team (not counting the woeful B's) had lost in the past month(Cleveland beat Boston on Oct. 16th). This time it was the Celtics. Who barely lost. In a game I watched on NBA TV because I have it. Yes. I'm that special. I actually prefer the Celtics over the Patriots. For that reason I missed the first two Pats scores against the Bills.

And what I did watch of the Patriots game was nothing short of masterful. It wasn't that the Bills looked bad. The Patriots looked so good to make a team they were playing not look bad and instead make themselves look even better. The Mrs keeps asking how I can watch the Pats game with the scores so out-of-hand. Because it's beautiful. I've never seen such precision and execution on the football field. It's like watching Beckett work in a playoff game. The opposing batters just don't have a shot because he is that good. The Patriots are just that good.

I likened it yesterday morning to an old SportsCenter commercial.


We are the Holyfield of the NFL.

But it's a long season. So let's not get ahead of ourselves.

As per the punditry that revolves around these landslide victories, it's nice to be the villian. To be the hated team. And it's nice to know and realize this is the case only because we are winning so easily. We are not overpaying players. The organization does things the right way. Forget SpyGate. We're 10 weeks removed from that. It's over. Move beyond it. The only reason we are hated as a team is because the Patriots win and win so very very well.

I love paradoxes.

This may or may not be one.

It's That Time Of Year

It's November. The time when I historically come down with something. Last year it was pneumonia and a trip to the hospital. This year, a wonderful GI bug given to me by my loving son. That's right, Isaac has been sick for the past few days -- his first illness. And as he came out of the woods yesterday -- i.e. no fever and a cessation of the vomiting -- the Mrs and I decided to stroll through the woods ourselves -- i.e we got sick. Isaac, much to the chagrin of the Mrs, was given the nickname Poopy McPoopsalot. Yesterday, in the vein of too much information, he became Poopy McPoopsalot Jr. And by a lot, just to clarify, I mean a lot.

A friend recently emailed me wondering why I hadn't shared anything about the Pats and the Celtics run over the weekend. Truth is, because of what happened over the weekend and then this week, I've done gone completely sapped. Like a Vermont Maple Tree sapped.

Anyway, the energy is slowly returning. So expect more posts here in the coming days. Especially on the Celtics. Man, they look good. Unfortunately, as much a Celtics fan as I am, there's been no real desire to make an effort to watch them on T.V. over the past few years. The quality of basketball was just plain horrible. So I stuck to the box scores, blogs and articles on them. All this to justify my now writing more about them. I also had to use a more formal argument to explain to the Mrs. why basketball ranks above football on my list of favorite sports to watch. Evidence #1: My DVDs of the Basketball Jesus and The Celtics history complete with about 10 full games I own. NOTE: This are the only DVDs I even own.

So yes, I'm excited about the Celtics. Very. Very. Excited. And the Pats are good too. Their next four games will be on TV here in the capital city... so that's good.

Postgate

Look. I'm just as upset. Just as furious. Extremely embarrassed. Taking it from all sides too, seeing as how I work with a decent number of Bengals and Browns fans. Though the Browns fans are, themselves, too depressed to be as clever as Bengals fans. But then again Bengals fan are too much of Bengals fans to be clever. Anyway, this whole cheating thing as caught me with my proverbial pants down.

But, it's not like I've lost some sort of virginal quality here. We've known for a long time that baseball players cheat. Albeit from steroids or from stealing signs (the Sox have been accused of this numerous times in the past few years), teams will do whatever it takes to get an edge. Doesn't make it right. But sports isn't the Republic or Nicomachean Ethics. It's not a philosophical treaty on morality. Sure. It would be nice if everyone played within the rules. Like, if, say, all-too-talkative Charger players wouldn't take steroids, the world would be a slightly better place. This whole thing is what it is. Players and teams and coaches will cheat. But they'll get caught. At least there's some moral in that. As for asterikin' the titles, c'mon. They're not the first. They won't be the last. And at least they're not taking steroids. Well. At least not all of them.

One question. Why is it that every "scandal" has to have the suffix -gate buttressed on to it. Patriotgate. Spygate. Videogate. Illegal-taping-of-defensive-coaches-hand-signals-from-the-sidelines-even-though-it's-ok-to-do-the-same-thing-from-the-coaches-box-gate. I understand the origins. I'm familiar with Watergate. But really. Some 30+ years removed and we still think we're being clever? It's more annoying than the accusations themselves.

Almostgate.

Why I Won't Go To Boston

Because of the media. The White-Middle-Aged Boston Media. Like clockwork, the borderline racist columnists print their "I Hate Randy Moss" columns. Character issues? A soiled mark on the pristine franchise? I'm sorry, Tom Brady hasn't been the modicum of morality this off-season but he's not a black mark on the franchise. Oh. Wait. He's not black. That's right.

I'll admit Moss has character issues. But he's also one of the best players in the game. Period. His problems are minor. He's never shot and killed someone like other athletes. So he mooned the intolerable Green Bay fans. Sorry: mock-mooned them. I thought it was really funny. Really funny. Not "disgusting". So he walked off the field 2 SECONDS before the game was over. The nerve. Larry Bird NEVER shook hands at the end of a game he lost. With Bird, that was panache. With Moss, that's a sign of bad character.

And since when did Boston seek the moral high-ground? Bill itself as the new Bible Belt? I'm not saying it shouldn't. Or that isn't something it might try doing. But that's not the issue here. I'm tired of this trade being discussed as a "What are they doing at Foxboro? What happened to all the great people concept?" type of situation. That's a way for the media in Boston to subtly discuss their racism. And maybe it's not racism. That's harsh. Maybe we can call it: their bias against an African-American player with outstanding talent with some "issues" playing for their precious little team. But that's being nice. Russell and Rice never had issues. But the media didn't like them. Same with Pedro. Same with Manny. Same with Pierce. Anson Carter? Anyone?

Me. I couldn't be happier with this trade. I love Moss. Always have. Now that he's playing for the Pats, I'm giddy. Can't wait for the season to start. Finally, Brady has a Pro-Bowl Receiver to throw to. And not just that, finally we have a playmaker. A gamebreaker. But it might not work out in the end. Maybe Moss is a troubled soul. But winning tends to change things. Let's at least give peace a chance? And if we can do that, we can say the Pats are scary good. Scary. Good.

Of course, they're not morally good anymore. But who's to blame for that?

The Mourning After

How do I write about my despair. How do I put into words this abject sadness that fights to consume me over this cup of coffee. For most of last night and as I awoke this morning, I thought of all the plays we could have run differently. How Reche could've caught the ball. How if Evans had broken a tackle and scampered inside the 20 with 24 seconds to play. If Brady had gone to the sidelines instead of over the middle. How a non-pass interference call on Reche and a bogus roughing-the-passer call on Banta-Cain could have sealed it for us (Seriously. I hit my dog harder than Tulla hit Peyton. Not saying we would've of stopped them, but that type of a call cannot be made in those situations. Also, how is that the announcers mentioned it only once? It was arguably the biggest play of the game getting the Colts to the 11 instead of the at the 20?).

Then it occurs to me...all this "we" stuff. It's not like I had any control over what was happening. Despite not shaving, despite wearing the same clothes every Sunday through the playoffs, despite eating only certain foods, there was nothing I could have done to control the outcome of the game. Of course, this realization lead to complete helplessness for a short-time. Why is it that sports fans put themselves through it? I have no answers, not this morning. On October 28, 2004 I had answers for you. On February 3, 2002 I had answers for you. This morning, I have nothing.

On the morning after the Mets won the '86 World Series, I remember it was my mother who told me as I woke up and scurried into the kitchen. I remember the same feeling then, as a six-year-old, that I have now. Then, as a baseball player, I pondered in my head whether I should want to play for the Mets when I got older -- because they were the champs. Then it occurred to me that I couldn't do that because the Red Sox needed me.

Do the Patriots need me? Probably not. Though I've got pretty good hands. They don't need me in any physical, emotional or metaphysical sense. I don't have those delusions. What I've surmised is that being a sports fan is like riding a roller coaster. There's the waiting in line, anticipation as the cars climb to the top, and then the up-and-down-topsy-turvy ride to the end. Sometimes the end is less than satisfying. Sometimes it's over at just the right moment. Either way, you usually enjoy the ride and want to do it again.

I enjoyed the ride. And I want to do it again. Also, don't misunderstand me either, this entry is not cathartic in any way. I'm still upset. But in anticipation of next year's ride, maybe I should lay off the ice cream and chips.

On Obsessions

So I've recently picked up a book that I'm rather enjoying. And mind you it's not a book I have to read for any class or application to any master's program -- I'm reading it for fun. Anyway, more of you are probably familiar with the movie, but I assure you the movie pales in comparison. Not that the book is fantastic, but the movie was terrible.

I haven't done as many film reviews as I wanted to in this space. And I won't review this movie. I will only say that it bastardized a very special moment in my life -- that the third thing I saw when the ineffable happened was two hollywoodland lunatics celebrating with my team. It still invokes ire from me so I'll stop here. And I'm not mentioning the title, figure it out yourself.

Well, the book is much more my cup o' tea. It's about a man's obsession with a English soccer team (Arsenal if you're interested). It's funny. It captures exactly what it's like to be an obsessive sports fan. Wait -- you didn't know I was an obsessive? Well let me share some evidence that will greatly alter your opinion of me.

During the '04 MLB playoffs, I was heart broken. Crushed after the 19-8 drubbing that Saturday night (incidently, what lifted my spirits was Damien Rice on Austin City Limits, an artist I now have this inextricable bond with because of what followed). Co-workers tried to console me but they knew better. The next game, they won. In the most dramatic fashion imaginable. But in that 9th inning, I decided that if the Sox were going to lose, I'd at least want to hear Jerry and Joe tell me, not idiot Joe Buck. So I put the game on the Internet and listened and I still have trouble believing it. I mean, everyone knew he was going to steal second, and he still did. Anyway they went on to win. For the next few nights, the game, while also on my tv, was also on my computer, a full 30 seconds behind (sorry, who has attention problems?). Also, I sat in the exact same spot on the couch. I wore the exact same clothes. So did the Mrs.. Funny thing, I didn't even ask her to, she just did out of her own passion for the Sox. You know what, they went on to win it all -- so don't you judge me.

For the Patriots, it's a much different story -- but perhaps it's more appropo right now considering yesterday dismantling in Foxboro (what a great game!). Since the 96-97 Superbowl season, I've refrained from wearing any Patriots gear during the regular season, though I've got plenty of it. The only time that year it happened was when my father (I'm taking money back for this mention) decided our superstitions were foolish and wore a Patriots jersey -- revealing it to us dramatically at half-time from underneath his shirt. We lost that game. Anyway, since then, I've carried on that superstition despite several bad seasons and despite losses. For the Sox, once they lose, I change my approach. For the Patriots, the games are a different animal I suppose my technique is also different. And as far as not wearing Patriots gear, it extends to burying shirts in drawers and hats in boxes -- I don't want to even see or touch any of it during the season. But I can talk about it -- again, something that doesn't work for the Red Sox.

There are more to these obsessions with Boston-area sports teams. But you get the idea.

My poor kid right?

OHSAA

I've been out of town since Thursday -- thus no blog updates. This weekend was the annual Ohio State High School Football Playoffs. It's held at the Pro Football Hall of Fame and our TV station airs every game live across the state and so I was sent up to help with broadcasts. Three 15 hr. days and nights of going out wear you down and then to come back and work a full day in Columbus...well...I'm languished at the moment. Though, this game was unbelievable!

If you've never been to the Pro Football Hall of Fame -- you haven't missed much. Maybe I'm just not a maudlin football fan. I don't know. It doesn't strike me. Not like Cooperstown would.

The bust room is sublime (and Dad, that pic I sent you was of John Hannah's face, not Abraham Lincoln. Question: Why would I send you a pic of Abraham Lincoln's bust?).Other than that, there's not much to see. But certainly, check it out if you love to see pictures, old helmets, cleats and jock straps the players wore. Then it's worth it.

Yes. I did touch Tom Brady's jersey. That was cool -- and there's a section devoted to their 21-game win streak, too. But I touched Tom's game jersey. Oh. And if you were wondering...I had nothing to do with this...but it's freaking hilarious!

It's Kind Of A Big Deal

You may have heard about this football game being played this weekend? If not -- shame on you.

I am not a college football fan -- for a number of reasons that don't need to be mentioned in this post. I have no allegiances to any college football program like I do the for Red Sox, Patriots, Bruins and Celtics. But I am a sports fan -- a passionate sports fan. Plus I live in Columbus -- in the heart of Buckeye country.

So why am I wearing Maize and Blue today? Two reasons:

1) As mentioned before, I hate college football. Hate it. But being a sports fan I grew up watching this rivalry. From Desmond Howard's Heisman pose to Charles Woodson's INT, I watched the Michigan-OSU game every year. And every year, I pulled for Michigan -- with, perhaps on a season level, the exception of maybe the Woodson year -- I was a fan of the Bobby Hoying/Terry Glenn/Eddie George era. Such things happen in lieu of zeal (GRE word!) for college football. But, I have been and will continue to be a Michigan fan. If, only, because of my favorite athlete Tom Brady (have you heard about my Man Crush on Mr. Brady) -- and despite the allegiance of my most hated, yet respected, athlete Derek Jeter.

2) It annoys the crap out of everyone I work with.

Now objectively I think OSU will win by 14 points at least. For my job's sake (I'm producing the news in Columbus on Saturday night) I want OSU to win and make life easier (hey, it's the weekend!).

But: Go Maize and Blue!