The Indelibility of Loss

I realize that I part with victory far more easily than I do with loss. The wins are over by Tuesday, the pigskin euphoria overtaken by errands, commitments, workplace drama. The losses hurt right up until the next game. They are markers of mortality, omens of apocalypse, a numbness in your left arm. The rest of us cannot possibly imagine what it is like to be a fan of the Detroit Lions. The anticipation must be more delicious than a deep-fried hot fudge sundae. When the Lions’ first win comes (and the trend lines are positive with the annually underperforming Washington up next) it will be like winning the Super Bowl. Well, a playoff game, anyway. The point is that it will be big. That good, my-dad-can-beat-up-your-dad feeling may last not just a few days, but all week long.

 
My end of the field…
Last Sunday’s loss by New England wasn’t just any tough, hard-fought, short-handed divisional loss on the road. It was an objective correlative; the end of an era for the Patriots.

Forget the Super Bowl. Forget about separation from the Steelers in the race for the title of Team of the Decade. The first decade of the twenty-first century will always have at least two major players and an ample supporting cast. Peyton Manning will forever stand over Brady’s shoulder, a drooling, redneck hobgoblin of Pigskin fate. Suck on it, Patriots Nation. You’re the new Detroit.

That was the overwhelming sentiment of the admittedly small sample size of Pigskin Pundits and Bobbleheads I surveyed in the days following the 16-9 loss in the Meadowlands. Brady is done. Matt Light is done and besides, he and his mates on the Pats O-Line have always been overrated. I’ve heard everything from the suggestion that the Patriots have missed Jabar Gaffney (we’re just a Jabar Gaffney away from restoring their 2007-level dominance?) to the theory that Bill Belichick’s deal with His Dark Lord and Master was not renewed (somehow easier to believe than the Jabar Gaffney theory). The Bell Curve always wins. Internet sites have already started arguing over who called it first. They have come not to praise Caesar but to bury him and no matter how solicitous the tone, it’s clear this patient is not going to make it out of this mixed metaphor alive.

I admit, I started the calculus on Brady and Belichick after the third Super Bowl win. Not all good things come to an end but the history of the NFL argues that teams simply cannot maintain a dominant level of play for more than a decade. In fact it is usually less than 10 full years. Six or seven. Eight. Maybe. It is always followed by a fallow period. Always. The Packers ruled the 60s but were largely irrelevant until Brett Favre and Mike Holmgren came along. Then came the Steelers in the 70s, the 49ers in the 80s, the Cowboys in the 90s, followed by the Patriots and now perhaps the Steelers again. The pattern always repeats. It’s the semi-circle of life in the NFL. Tom Brady cannot play forever. Bill Belichick, much to the disbelief of most professional football fans outside of New England, will not live forever, the blood of innocent children dripping from his leering lips.

I knew it had to end some day but I had hoped the Patriots would make at least one more run at the Super Bowl before Brady retired.

As the week wore on, the Pundits and Bobbleheads did not relent. Even Peter King was off the bandwagon. Matt Ryan was coming to Foxborough as Kwai Chang Caine, ready to snatch the pebble from the master’s hand. The obvious – the small data sample, Brady’s return from a one-year layoff due to injury, the other injuries that have hit the Patriots on offense and defense, the "any given Sunday" nature of life in the NFL – all of it seemed like rationalization. Facts are facts, after all.

The New England Cheatriots are O-V-A-H, ovah, you toothless, mouth-breathing, nitwit chowderhead!

And yet, by Friday, I found that I was looking forward to Sunday. I would root for the Lions. I have decided I will root for the Lions at least until they win. I’d leave Stafford in there. You want him, your Franchise QB of the Future, to deliver the win that breaks the losing streak. I will root for the 49ers because I love it when Mike Singletary guests on Late Night with David Letterman. I will root for the Titans, because the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I will root for the Bengals. I will not root for the Browns. (I’m not stupid.) Twelve of this weekend’s games qualify as compelling. I can’t wait to find out what happens in every one of them, especially with my homeboys.

Perhaps it’s the sudden lack of expectations. I feel like its 2001 all over again. The Patriots are underdogs. There are no pretentions to some grander historical argument regarding the status of the team, the coach, or the quarterback. There is only this Sunday. Victory – if it comes – will not be dismissed as an expectation, an entitlement; it will be hard fought and well-earned. If they win, I will roll in it naked afterwards. If they lose, but play hard, smart football, I will continue drinking and watch the 4:00pm game. It’ll be cool.

If they play badly and lose, I will mope and brood and occasionally fly into what seems to the casual observer to be an inexplicable rage for a good five days. Maybe six.

And to all those people who said that Brady and the Patriots are done, I’ll have to say, well, good call.

That will hurt.

Until next Sunday.

~ September 25, 2009
themike@wavingalien.com