Drew over at KSK asked Johnny at Metroville to write a piece about what it means to be a Patriots fan, one week later. We decided it would be a better fit here. You decide.
Gather ’round, fans of the New York Football Giants, and let me weave you the tale of one magical Super Bowl.
The two teams pitted against each other couldn’t have followed more different paths. Team ‘A’, having just hoisted the Lombardi Trophy a couple of years earlier, had made short work of their opponents on their way to the best record in the league, in large part due to their MVP-Award-winning quarterback and the record-breaking offense–widely considered one of the greatest in history–at his disposal. After a dismal start to the regular season, Team ‘B’ had eked into the playoffs by the skin of their teeth, courtesy of some key second-half wins on the shoulders of an unproven quarterback about whom just about everyone was maintaining serious doubts. The two factions had squared off during the regular season and although Team ‘B’ had unexpectedly made a game of it, in the end, they were simply overmatched by the charmed powerhouse that was their opponent. Going into the Super Bowl, Team ‘A’ was a two-touchdown favorite.
To everyone’s great surprise, the rematch-for-a-championship turned out to be a thriller. With both sides scratching and clawing for every point, the lead changed hands a number of times throughout the contest. As improbably as the course of the game ran, its ending would belong in a storybook: Team ‘B’s quarterback led his squad on a white-knuckle drive downfield to put them within striking distance of a seemingly impossible final attempt at a score with precious few seconds remaining on the clock…but score Team ‘B’ did, winning the Super Bowl by three points in one of the biggest upsets in the game’s history.
That story makes you happy, doesn’t it, Giants fans? Puts a smile on your face, warms your heart. I bet you like Team ‘B’, don’t you?
As well you should…because they’re the 2001-2002 New England Patriots.
And when they won they Super Bowl, it wasn’t just me and my fellow lifelong Patriots fans who were happy; outside of St. Louis (and a few people in Los Angeles who were kidding themselves), the whole world was happy. While you likely wouldn’t admit to it now, I’d even wager that some of you were happy. Not necessarily because you’d wanted New England to win, but because they were the team that no one had given a chance. David had slain Goliath, and for a few shining moments, every sports fan in the country could savor the ideal of sports–anything can happen–making an all-too-rare appearance as a reality. For that reason, we all couldn’t help but like the Patriots at least a little bit, whether or not they were our team.
Five years later, I would tell people I was a Patriots fan; they would tell me I was a loudmouthed, racist, bandwagon-riding douchebag who should be killed.
What did I miss?
The short answers that a Patriot hater (”Patrater?“) might have given are numerous–”two additional Super Bowl victories”, “a quarterback who’s more handsome than I am and has regular sex with more supermodels (1) than I do”, “said hated quarterback being granted one of the best receiver corps in the NFL at the peak of his career”, “the unlikely rise to dominance by the Boston Red Sox”, “the return of the Boston Celtics to a championship-caliber status”, “SpyGate”–and likely interconnected, in his mind, as one long answer. While I did not miss any of those occurrences, I was rather surprised that people seemed to think that I bore responsibility for them. When the 2007 season began, I was the same person I was in 2002, yet the people who’d been anonymously happy for me (or at least tolerant of my existence) then because the Patriots won were now anonymously despising me with vitriol because the Patriots kept on winning. Flattering as it was (admittedly somewhat more so in the former instance), any individual recognition that I received in either case was largely undeserved.
As a devotee of consistently-losing sports franchises throughout my formative years and beyond, I’m no stranger to the active dislike of dominant teams (see: New York Yankees, 1919-2003), but my impotent rage has always been directed in much larger part at the teams themselves than at their fans (I’m getting married on Saturday and I won’t be surprised if my best man wears Robinson Cano Underoos; how much can I really hate those people?). The tide that turned against those who rooted for the Patriots–and all Boston sports fans in general–was like nothing I’d seen before, even taking into account that (1) I was (and am) biased and (2) being on the receiving end of popular hatred was still a relatively new experience. Sure, nobody who doesn’t like the Yankees likes the team’s fanbase as a whole, but the argument never gets much more specific than “Yankees fans are spoiled, arrogant pricks” (although that actually would have been the argument prior to 2001, when “spoiled” was replaced by “deluded”). But to announce my allegiance to the Patriots was to risk casting myself in the eyes of anyone without roots in the Boston area as a drunken, braying white supremacist.
The charges of racism, of course, predominantly came from white people whose closest encounter with African-American culture was a purchase of Will Smith’s Willennium. Yes, Boston’s history of race relations is not pretty–we all saw that HBO Red Sox documentary narrated by Ben Affleck–which is exactly in accordance with the history of race relations throughout America (and, to take it even further, the world)…or were you not aware, Cleveland Indians and Washington Redskins fans, that your teams’ cute little mascots are also horribly maligned human beings? Given that fact, does being from those cities necessarily make you a racist? No … at least not any more than simply being from America does (although that doesn’t erase Boston’s checkered past, nor does it diffuse the fact that the mascots in question are mind-bogglingly offensive).
This argument inevitably fell on deaf ears because, in that indefinable moment when the New England Patriots were transformed by public opinion from scrappy underdogs into the Evil Horde, the die had been likewise cast for the majority perception of their fans. Somewhere between 2002 and 2007, solely because I cheered for a particular professional sports team (or two), I had become a douchebag in the eyes of anyone who didn’t happen to agree with me … and there was nothing I could do to change it.
There was, however, something the New York Giants of New Jersey could do. And on February 3, 2008, when those scrappy underdogs bested the mighty, reviled New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII, they set the change in motion.
Enjoy your moment, Giants fans, Jets fans pretending to be Giants fans and all who’ve been jumping on the bandwagon since that absolutely horrendous pass hit David Tyree in the head and got stuck there: outside of New England (and a large percentage of bookmakers), the world is happy for you. Keep on smiling, keep on celebrating, keep on lauding your team’s accomplishment at every available opportunity. And one day very soon, you will wake up to discover … that you are all douchebags. Pedophile douchebags is what I’m suggesting be the modifier: you are all pedophile douchebags whose hero is an overgrown Sea Monkey that constantly looks to be on the verge of tears. Eli Manning could fall ass-backwards into a Super Bowl victory with the East Rutherford Giants every season for the rest of his God-affronting career and history will never concede that he is a talented football player by any stretch of the imagination. Peyton Manning is Ellen Ripley, and Eli Manning is those botched clones of Ellen Ripley in the tubes in Alien: Resurrection that beg the one successful clone to kill them. But no one did, and now he’s a Super Bowl MVP, and now you have no one to blame but the football team you support for the fact that you are all douchebags.
And now I have that same football team to thank for the fact that I’m not.
For the rest of you who have dedicated yourselves to blindly hating Patriots fans for the last several years, I acknowledge that this revelation is not an easy thing to wrap your tiny heads around. However, by your own established math, the Patriots’ dominance made their fans douchebags. A team who collapses on the game’s greatest stage cannot be viewed as dominant; ergo, its fans are not douchebags (or at least not more so than any other team’s fans). Like it or not (and I know that you don’t), I’m just another guy who roots for a team that didn’t win the Super Bowl, now. Just like you.
Can you believe those Giants fans, all dancing and happy? Christ, it’s been more than a week already–get over yourselves. What a bunch of douchebags.
I also happen to know that they molest children. It’s a historical fact.
The sports world has no greater spectacle than the Pro Bowl. Therefore, we dispatched Zach Everson to write about the Pro Bowl for us. He’s out in Hawaii. Jerk. Here’s his final dispatch.
I think the only type of alcohol I missed was vermouth.
Pro Bowl Ohana Day Celebration
This event, a practice open to the public, began at 9 a.m. Saturday morning.
I didn’t make it.
At first I felt bad for missing the practice, but then realized that I felt bad because of the hangover. A dereliction of duty perhaps, but I missed the hotel’s complimentary breakfast too. (Want to guess which one bothered me more?)
Plus as the players treat the Pro Bowl like a practice, I didn’t want to see how they regarded a practice for a practice.
Pro Bowl All-Star Block Party
If “The Pro Bowl Football Festival was like a carnival only with no rides, fewer games, and the carneys aren’t workers, but rather are the attendees,” then the All-Star Block Party was like the Festival but without any games or players signing autographs (this paragraph courtesy of the Sports Guy school of quoiting yourself).
The block party was held on a one-mile cordoned-off stretch of Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki. There were six stages, featuring mostly local bands (the music scene here is great) as well as the mascots and cheerleaders that have been ubiquitous all week. Unfortunately the music was sparse but the schtick was not.
At the first stage, two local radio guys — the block party didn’t merit real sportscasters — were interviewing Warren Moon. One broadcaster asked Moon if he ever said anything stupid in the huddle to loosen up his teammates. Moon said he didn’t pride himself on saying stupid things, but sometimes he’d point out if the “center has sweat between his legs.” He then said he didn’t want to get into details, demonstrating the restraint you’d expect from someone who was arrested for DUI twice last year.
Other highlights included:
the celebrity look-a-like contest, won by a guy claiming to resemble Jamie Foxx (when the announcer said he didn’t have a body like Foxx’s, the contestant started to strip)
a couple wearing $75 Tom Brady Pro Bowl jerseys, despite Tom Brady not playing in the Pro Bowl
dozens of people who had shelled out for airfare to Hawaii, accommodations and ostensibly a ticket, jumping and screaming in hopes of scoring a free $15 t-shirt
Bored, I sat on a pier at the far end of the block and watched this couple have doobers in the Pacific as the nearest band played “I’m Easy.”
As I made my way back down the street, the stage with the celebrity look-a-like contest was now hosting a kiddie dance competition, which allowed parents to pimp out their children like they were Chelsea Clinton.
One of the three contestants, however, just stood in shock, looking like he wanted to bawl.
MC: “Are you ok?”
Cute kid (shaking his head violently): “No.”
As the kid was led off stage to someone we all hope was one of his parents, I realized he had the right idea and decided I’d had enough too.
But before I could escape, I had to pass the stage with the two radio guys. They were giving away a ticket to someone who could answer a trivia question. They’d identified the contestant, but before asking the question, they had to do some screening.
Radio guy: “Gonna go to the game?”
Contestant: “Yes.”
Radio guy: “You promise?”
After they gave the winner his ticket, the duo started interviewing cheerleaders, using the hard-hitting interrogation style they learned from Larry King. Under the bright lights of the stage, all of the cheerleaders admitted to being happy to be in Hawaii.
Disgusted at Americans’ willingness to stand in front of a stage, regardless of what, if anything, is happening on it, I spent the rest of the evening watching karaoke.
Tailgate
As the NFL had disappointed every time I entrusted it with providing fun, I skipped the Official Pro Bowl Tailgate and partook in some nonofficial fun.
Like Tony Siragusa, in shorts, joining a Navy band for “Play that Funky Music.”
And watching a staged piece for a local news broadcast. The reporter approached me and asked, “Do you want to say ‘boo’?” Unclear as to what I was being asked to jeer (the Pro Bowl? France? Crappy journalism practices?), I opted not to participate.
Apparently number seven, however, was bullshit. (Turned out they were booing the possibility of the NFL moving the Pro Bowl from Honolulu after next year. Clearly none of these people were locals.)
Before heading into Aloha Stadium, I checked out the prices scalpers were asking for tickets. Face value. They didn’t seem to be getting it, so I assume that by kickoff tickets could be had for below cost. Supply meet demand.
The Pro Bowl
As we entered the stadium, my friend and I made a $5 bet on the game (I took the AFC and gave him 4.5). I never gamble, but I figured we’d need to do something to make this game interesting.
I wasn’t alone. While sitting at a picnic table the guy next to me called his bookie. He bet on the outcome, but apparently that wager wasn’t sufficient to make the game hold his attention, so he put money on the score at halftime too. And he walked away inquiring with his bookie about other gambling options for the game.
My friend and I settled into seats that weren’t ours and prepared for 60 minutes of watching the best football players in the AFC under the control of Norv Turner. Press reports claimed that the game was sold out. Maybe so, but the stadium wasn’t at capacity either.
Surprisingly, for the first time all week the NFL put out a product that was somewhat engaging once the game started. Would I have enjoyed the game on TV? No. But Peyton Manning was zipping the ball around, TO was getting booed for drops, and the abundance of gimmick plays meant you never knew what could happen. It was cool to watch it live.
But the Pro Bowl, of course, is about more than football. It’s about boobs.
And it’s about the media taking pictures of boobs.
And it’s about weathered guys with Ziploc bags full of Jello shots.
And it’s about old friends renewing acquaintances.
The Pro Bowl is also a great place to dry out, as beers cost $8 or $9.
But back to the game. The second half was less interesting than the first. I got tired and contemplated stretching out across a row of seats and taking a nap. Apparently Derek Anderson was sleepy too, he looked horrible.
Overall the play was lazier in the second half. On one kickoff return, two opposing players about to collide pulled up and stood there looking at each other as if they’d reached a mutual agreement not to touch.
Anyway, the NFC pulled ahead with TO coming around, Adrian Peterson shredding the AFC’s defense and three Sean Taylors confusing the crap out of everybody. (Does the NFC’s victory mean Taylor is back paying attention to football after skipping the Redskins’ first round playoff loss to Seattle?) The game ended when the NFC snapped a string of four Derek Anderson passes that should’ve been intercepted by finally picking one off.
I’ve been in Hawaii for a month now. Of all the activities available on a beautiful Sunday, attending the Pro Bowl ranks towards the bottom of the list. And the Pro Bowl-related events rank, actually, they don’t. Thankfully I have another three weeks here to purge myself — and maybe have more fun with some dolphins.
One of our favorite features ESPN.com has run is the NFL Coach Approval Ratings. We liked watching the fluctuation, seeing a coach go from 81 percent to 20 percent with one loss. But mostly, we liked the collective wisdom of Crowd. We trust Crowd’s judgment. Therefore, we’ve decided to start a new feature inspired by the Coach Approval Ratings: We’re asking for a referendum on various members of the sports media.
This is going to run daily, until you decide you don’t like it anymore, and then we’ll scrap it and pretend it never happened. We are not going to give any of our own thoughts: We want you to go into the polling place with no outside influence. It’s nice and simple: Do you approve of the job a particular media member does, or not?
We kick off the series with FOX’s Troy Aikman, the lead analyst for the NFL. Vote freely, to your heart’s content.
At first the petition drew notice from outraged Patriots fans who were sure that their team had been robbed due to some sort of timekeeping shenanigans. Then the comments quickly evolved into comedy gold as people signed in to mock the Pats fans. And then, predictably, came the boring Tom Brady is gay jokes and a bunch of racist and pornographic nonsense, as people who type with their knuckles got wind of it. But for the first 2,000 comments or so, it was pretty entertaining. Here’s a sampling, with the serious comments listed first:
• That whole giants drive needs to be reviewed especially the deep throw to tyree our defense was clearly held by the jerseys and facemasks but not one of the penalties were called. — Charles Novak
• I don’t know much about the rules of the NFL but as a Patriots fan if this is true I feel cheated. If this is true there should seriously be a replay of the last 1:40 of the Super Bowl. I didn’t bet on it myself, but a lot of people lost or gained a lot of money on this game and the real outcome deserves to be known. — Eric Frenz
• Give the patriots their rightful win. — Meaghan O’Toole
• Only reviewing these rules is an understatement. Two players (Richard Seymour and Adalius Thomas) were also held on the 3rd and five play of the giants in the fourth quarter. This needs to be reviewed as well. — Tag Muggia
• I was at SB42 and watched the travesty of the biggest screwjob in history take place. Justice must prevail. — Colin McSorely
• I feast on your tears — your insipid, ignorant tears. — Cry More
• There must be an investigation–I kept track of the time using a metronome and a calorie counter, and there was definitely a discrepancy. I’m shocked no one has mentioned the late hit on Brady by the field judge! — Troy Tranes
• Hey guys, I just wanted to say that as the coach of the New England Patriots, I think that…whoops, one second left. Gotta run!!!! — Bill Belichick
• I’ll be holding a press conference today to announce whether or not I am signing this petition. — Kevin Hart
• Guess what? Giesle and I got back together. — Leonardo DiCaprio
• I altered the deal Pats fans. Pray I don’t alter it any further. — Darth Vader
• Anyone notice the way the light gleams off Brett Favre’s helmet? — Joe Buck
• Don’t just play the last 1:40 over. play until the Pats win, even if it’s a bajillion years. I live vicariously through Tom Brady’s accomplishments and I can’t quit imagining him in his mansion, plowing Gisele, but with tears rolling down his cheeks. All because people are jealous of the Pats. — Shaun Patrick O’Toole Flannegan
• Don’t hate on NY or my rooster will cut you. — Pedro Martinez
• Osi Umenyora took a dump on our hearts. — Dick Peters
• This petition makes the Super Bowl loss that much sweeter. From the bottom of our hearts, thanks for this. — The Nation
The NBA Closer is written by Matt McHale, a former college intramural freethrow shooting champion…25-for-25 baby! When he’s not perfecting his stroke from the line - no double-entendre intended, as far as you know - he can be found studying the science of freethrowology at Basketbawful. Enjoy!
• Brandon Bass is my new favoritest person. Sure, the Mavericks suffered an embarrassing 101-82 loss in New Jersey, but Brandon Bass made up for it by living the dream of this writer, most NBA players, and pretty much every single Canadian citizen: Almost knocking Vince Carter the hell out with an elbow. “I saw stars, stripes, everything,” said a still woozy Carter. “Green clovers, blue diamonds, orange stars, pink hearts, purple horseshoes, yellow moons…I’m telling you, those Mavericks are always after me Lucky Charms!” In addition to the fun hallucinations, the blow must have caused a case of short-term memory loss, because Carter forgot that he doesn’t give a crap anymore and scored 25 of his 29 points after getting his clock cleaned. Jason Kidd auditioned for the role of “Dallas point guard” by going for 13 points and 14 assists, and Herr Nowitzki scored 21 for the Mavs, who fell victim to a 21-to-nothing run and once again proved they aren’t above losing to a bad team in a totally humiliating fashion.
• Welcome to hell, Shawn. Dwyane Wade welcomed Shawn Marion to his own personal version of eternal torment yesterday, and I hate to ruin the surprise for you, but it ended in a 104-94 loss to the Lakers - the Heat’s 22nd defeat in the last 23 games. The Black Mamba scored 33 for the Lakers, including a pair of freethrows with 36 seconds left that inspired the Miami crowd - all 42 of them - to chant “M-V-P.” And we thought Wade couldn’t possibly feel any worse. That had to be like coming home from work to find your kids chanting “Go dad go!” while the mailman bangs your wife in some kinky position she totally wouldn’t try with you. Pookie had 19 points, 9 assists, and 9 turnovers, and The Matrix did his usual “little bit of everything” with 15 points, 14 rebounds, 4 assists, 3 steals, and 3 blocked shots. Methinks Mr. Marion better get used to doing a lot and losing.
• Uhm, they’re just waiting for the playoffs, right? The Celtics’ starting lineup against the Spurs featured both Leon Powe and Brian Scalabrine. Boston also asked Glen “Big Baby” Davis to guard Tim Duncan for most of the game. And did I mention KG is still out, probably until after the All-Star break? (Here’s hoping you didn’t pre-order Garnett’s All-Star jersey.) None of that mattered as the C’s knocked off the defending champs 98-90 and improved to 16-0 against the “vastly superior” Western Conference. Paul Pierce told the truth with 35 points, Ray Allen chipped in 19, and Rajon “The Weak Link” Rondo led Boston in rebounds (11) and assists (12). Tim Duncan had 22 points, 14 rebounds, and 6 assists for San Antonio.
• Bob Barker would be proud. The Detroit Pistons did their part to help control the pet population by neutering the Charlotte Bobcats with a 113-87 win. Tayshaun “The Fresh” Prince scored 21 points for the Pistons, who have now won eight games in a row. Meanwhile, Jason Richardson scored 27 for the Bobcats, who have lost six in a row.
• Sometimes it sucks to be King. Carmelo Anthony scored 27 points, Allen Iverson dished 13 assists, Marcus Camby grabbed 17 rebounds, and the Denver Nuggets built a 37-point lead before settling for a 113-83 win over the Cavaliers in Cleveland. Lebron James scored a team-high 30 points for the Cavs, but he also threw a royal hissy fit after his team ended the third quarter down by 26. Bron Bron stomped off the court, plopped down at the end of the Cav’s bench, and didn’t take part in coach Mike Brown’s huddle before the start of the fourth. Not exactly an MVP-like display. Maybe there was a mess in his diaper, maybe he just needed to be burped, we don’t know. After LBJ’s temper tantrum, Damon Jones released his inner Stephan A. Smith and started yelling at James and the rest of the Cavaliers about their lousy performance. Strangely enough, harsh words from a 6 PPG roleplayer inspired exactly no one.
• Look! It’s moving! It’s alive…it’s alive…IT’S ALIVE!! We may never know what kind of unspeakable crimes against nature Sam Mitchell commited to bring Andrea Bargnani’s game back to life - I’m guessing unicorn blood and virgins were involved - but Il Mago has reached double figures in seven of his last eight games, including last night’s 16-point performance in a 105-82 blowout of the Timberwolves. The fighting dinos also got 15 points and 10 assists out of “No Way” Jose Calderon, and CBTV’s Blane Harrington added 14 points and 9 rebounds. Big Al Jefferson led Minnesota in the losing cause with 18 points and 9 rebounds. After the game, a confused Randy Witmann said, “I didn’t see this [blowout] coming.” Maybe he’s just repressing, but Witmann does know he coaches the T-Wolves, right?
• The Amare Stoudemire Project. Shortly after the Shaq-to-Phoenix trade was complete, The Big Brother identified Stoudemire as his “special project,” and Suns GM Steve Kerr said, “Amare respects [Shaq] so much and needs him physically.” Needs him…physically? [/shudders] Well, you know what they say: Once you go Shaq, you never go back. Anyway, with his, uh, physical needs finally met, Stat showed off his new sense of personal fulfillment with 31 points, 13 rebounds, 4 blocked shots, and a pair of game-clinching freethrows with 7.5 seconds left. Suns beat Wizards, 108-107. Antawn Jamison paced the losers with 28 points, 10 boards, and a secret wish that Gilbert Arenas and Caron Butler were around to meet his physical needs.
Drew over at KSK asked Johnny at Metroville to write a piece about what it means to be a Patriots fan, one week later. We decided it would be a better fit here. You decide.
One of our favorite features ESPN.com has run is the 
Time to check in on the 
— Dick Peters
The NBA Closer is written by Matt McHale, a former college intramural freethrow shooting champion…25-for-25 baby! When he’s not perfecting his stroke from the line - no double-entendre intended, as far as you know - he can be found studying the science of freethrowology at 