I’ve been going through post-mortems all day with Giants fans (the ones I know have been fairly gracious in victory – surprising to me given the area of the country that they originate from). I’ve hashed over the Pats inability to stop the Giants rush and the fact that, had the Pats run the no-huddle offense more, they would have negated some of the pressure from that rush like they did on their final TD drive. I’ve marveled at Michael Stahan’s quickness off the ball and the inability of the Pats offensive line (3/5 of which are Pro Bowlers, by the way) to keep up with him. I’ve pondered Brady’s mere mortal performance and wondered why he didn’t just throw the ball to Wes Welker every down – the guy was barely covered. I’ve conceded that Rodney Harrison has no place in our defensive backfield and that our linebacker corps (God love Vrabel, Bruschi, and Seau) are just a step too slow. I’ve done all that…and I still can’t move on.
I still can’t help feeling empty and depressed and like I’ve believed in a myth for the last few months. I feel cheated. Today was supposed to be The Day. The Day we shut up that annoying Don Shula and that pompous Mercury Morris. The Day that New England put their indelible stamp on history. The Day that Bill Belichick was ordained a God amongst men as far as NFL Coaches go. The Day that the New England area finally arrives as a Mecca of Sports.
But, instead, it’s just a day. A rainy, dreary day which finds me stuck in New York with nary a sole around me to console me in my misery. A day where most of the conversation I overhear in far-off cubicles is about how the Giants are supposedly this superior team and how the Pats, despite their season of accomplishments “weren’t really that good” (Come one folks! Are you really buying that bull you’re selling?) A day where I feel like curling up under the covers in a fetal position and just forgetting about the night before. A day where I wish that the next season would just start tomorrow so that ‘my team’ could go out, hit someone hard, get a win, and make this hollow, empty, dull pain go away.
In the end, time heals all wounds (the aftermaths of the 2003 ALCS, and Bucky Dent, and Bill Buckner taught us that). I think this one is going to take a long time to feel better, however. Pitchers and catchers will report in a little over a week and our attention will be diverted to the Boys of Summer. Those terrific folks who warmed our collective heart in October with their marvelous run to a second World Series Championship – something that we never thought we’d see one of. And something that the generations preceding us never got to see. We’ll have a minor reminder of our misery when, in April, the NFL Draft rolls around and the talking heads of ESPN (and others) fame remind us of the misery and disbelief that occurred just before 10pm EST on February 3, 2008. But, that will all be gone in a weekend. After that, the seasons will change, summer will show up, and we’ll be knee-deep in following our boys as they try to topple the Evil Empire once again; football a far-off reminder of the cooler weather that is to come. We’ll cheer and we’ll boo as the Boston Dirt Dogs do their thing, but there will be a little piece of us that just doesn’t feel right.
Training camps will roll around in June and it’ll be like peeling the scab off. We’ll have kind of forgotten how much it hurt until it all starts again. But, we’ll be evaluating rookies and veterans alike and hoping that it’s a year of redemption. Will our guys bounce back? Who have we resigned? Will Brady be hell bent on destroying anything in a Manning jersey? What’s Bill got up his sleeve this season? Summer will roll on and baseball will replace any notion of Training Camp in the news. The occasional preseason game will be aired, but no one really watches those; they don’t mean much. The thoughts of all thing fall will disappear into the humidity of late July and August.
Eventually, September will roll around. The leaves will start to change colors, Boston will explode with wide-eyed freshman and wiser upper classmen, and the Sox will be in the midst of a pennant hunt All the time, Gillette will be quietly prepping to begin another season full of hope and optimism… And, as the first kickoff occurs and the first hits of the 2008 season begin we’ll finally be as close to cured as we can be – ready to start a new season – one that will hopefully fill the void that this one create.
As everyone loyal New England Sports fan can tell you – Just Wait Until Next Year!
