It was Deja Vu. And it was remarkably similar. A final drive, an amazing catch by a receiver most (including Bill Belichick) people overlooked, and a game that Patriots fans feel they gave away. This wasn't 2008 but the feeling is the same, except the reaction has been more vitriolic, more painful, especially for those who have watched this team since 2001, when they shocked the St. Louis Rams, catapulting Tom Brady to superstardom. Why has the reaction been so overwhelming for Patriots fans? Why have people attacked Belichick and Brady so relentlessly, while being even harsher on Wes Welker, who has been nothing short of spectacular since becoming a Patriot? It is a mysterious and unknown feeling for us right now here in Boston. We are used to being the losers, enduring the heartbreak, but this particular loss hit a vein in everybody's heart and caused an uproar, reminiscent of a Tahrir Square, not Boston, MA.
I'll start about three weeks ago today.
It is Sunday morning, actually afternoon here in Israel, just a few hours before the AFC Championship. I begin to read a few pieces about the potential matchups for the Super Bowl. The Patriots, heavily favored, after throttling the Broncos, are supposedly ripe and ready for a rematch with the Giants. Many will say that Pats fans want the Giants, in order to avenge the loss in 2008. I disagree. I believe in looking at things with a pragmatic, objective approach. The Giants terrify me. I'd much rather play Alex Smith and the inexperienced 49ers. A Super Bowl ring is a Super Bowl ring. I didn't care if we beat the Giants. I wanted a 4th championship and the 49ers were the easiest route. Plain and simple. And sure enough, it was Pats v. Giants in Super Bowl XLVI.
I began the longest two weeks of my life fretting about the outcomes for Super Bowl XLVI. Could David Tyree come back for the final drive and snag a football pinning it against his left knee setting up a game-winning touchdown? I had nightmares for those 14 days almost every night. I began to have indigestion and heart palpitations. I couldn't hold a conversation without spacing out and peering into the distance, as if I spotted a field goal post. I was terrified because this was all or nothing. It wouldn't have been the case with the 49ers, but with the Giants it was a different story. Brady and Belichick would be 0-2 against Coughlin and Eli. Eli would cement his legacy while Brady would be take a step back. It was New York v. Boston. Everything on the line.
In Israel there are two major differences that made watching Super Bowl XLVI even more treacherous. First, the weekend is Friday and Saturday and the first day of work is Sunday, rather than Monday. So, I had to endure a full day of work on Sunday, rather than waking up late, watching a few hours of pre-game and getting right into the game. Second, is the time difference. Israel is 7 hours ahead so the start time was 1:30am. So, not only did I have a day of work, I also had to wait pretty much all night, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the game to start. As the hours wore on Sunday, I felt an uneasiness I had never felt before. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't eat or move. I was a vegetable more or less. I started chain smoking, hoping it could calm my nerves. It didn't, but I kept trying.
At around 1:28am, two minutes before start time, I took my seat in a crowded Tel Aviv apartment, to watch the spectacle. It should also be noted that Israeli's don't care about the Super Bowl. Everyone is pretty much asleep, and the only people who were up were Americans.
And we're off! And...safety. Are you fuckin kidding me? Safety? In all fairness, it was a good call, and Brady is surely to blame but could it have started any worse? Then touchdown Giants. 9-0. Okay, now I'm unable to control my bodily functions. Solid drive and a field goal. Then, a tremendous drive to end the half. 10-9. Okay. Feeling better. I need a cigarette. Touchdown to start the drive. 17-9. Two field goals by the Giants. 17-15.
And now lets go into a little more detail. 9:24 remaining. Up by two, starting on the New England 8 yard line. We can ice the game right here. This is where Brady makes his money. Best in the world. Every New England fan is thinking the same thing. Don't give that ball back to Eli with a chance to win. End it right now. This is the drive of all drives. At the same time, we're all sweating profusely, thinking about every possible scenario that could occur over the next 9 minutes and 24 seconds. David Tyree, I see you on the sideline. Don't fuckin do anything stupid. This was where everything always seemed to go right for the Patriots. From the Snow Bowl game, to the two game winning drives in 2002 and 2004, to Philadelphia using terrible clock management, we always found a way to win. Bring back the magic Tom. Please, we're begging you.
3rd and 5. Danny Woodhead 19 yards. HUGE play. Keep moving that football. 2nd and 7. Wes Welker for 11 yards to the New England 46 yard line. Don't be too confident, we're close, but not there yet. 3rd and 3. Time ticking away. 4 yards to Aaron Hernandez to the Giants 43 yard line. Time dipping under 5 minutes. 2nd and 11. The Giants look disheveled and confused. Snap comes with 4:06 to play. Brady immediately looks to his left. Solid pocket. He appears decisive, looping a tight spiral about 20 yards down the field, a few yards from the sideline. He's open. Holy Shit. He's open. And...Fuck. My eyes become big and I wait for the replay. He dropped it. It was right in his hands and he dropped it. My stomach drops and then turns and then explodes and falls out of my body. I feel like we lost, and that this will come back and bite us. There is an eerie silence in the apartment, combined with incoherent mumbling, and whispering. Nobody knows what to say next. The game moves on. 3rd and 11. Convert and all is forgotten. Under 4 minutes. Brady drops back. Plenty of time. Too much time. Great pocket. A laser over the middle to Deion Branch. Broken up. 4th down. The uneasiness has returned. 2008 all over again. We had it and we lost it. This can't be happening. The doubt creeps in and stays in. I started praying to things I know don't exist. The world is falling before my eyes. First play from the 11, 3:46 to play. The first fuckin play. Manningham for 38. It's over. I know it. Deep down I know it, but I'm praying for a miracle. Manningham reels off 16 more on 2nd and 10 from the 50. Nicks for another 14 yards to the 18. Back breaker. Field goal range. They'll run out the clock and the hours on my life. Bradshaw falls into the endzone. A small break. A sign maybe? God, you there? 57 seconds. Drop by Branch, with room to run. Drop by Hernandez. Sack. Fuck. 4th and 16. It's over. I'm preparing my escape. The heart is barely flickering. First down Branch! Out of bounds. First down Hernandez. Two incomplete passes, and a too many men on the field penalty. One heave to the end zone. A prayer from essentially mid-field. A Hail-Mary. Listen, God. If you're still there. I know I'm a Jew, but I'm perfectly okay with the Virgin Mary. I'll convert to Catholicism. Anything. Just complete this pass for me. Brady drops back, ducks a man, gets some time, and heaves it. The ball is paralyzed in mid-air. Frozen as if the sky had suddenly turned to ice. I see Gronk and Hernandez down there. Please God. Please. My heart jumps and then sputters. Did he catch it? Incomplete. Game over. Shut off the TV. I head to the door and rest my head on it. It happened again. Utter and complete devastation. I aged 30 years in 3 hours.
It's 5am Israel time and I'm not tired. I don't want to sleep. I can't help thinking of what could have been. The miscues and the missed fumbles. The lucky breaks for the Giants and the inability to convert for the Patriots. Fire everyone. Gut the organization. I hate them. They don't care. Emotions after a game like that, combined with zero sleep are fierce and unintelligible. I have work in a few hours. I call my Israeli cousins and ask to stay with them. I can't interact with anyone who knows anything about American football. I spend 48 hours reading and thinking, trying to forget about the game. I cannot. It sticks with me. I begin questioning my life. I wonder if I'll ever watch football again, and whether sports are healthy for me. Should I give them up? Maybe I should. Should I travel the world? There's so much I haven't seen. I hate Giants fans. I think I'll become a Rabbi. It is because I don't believe in you, God? Is this why you're punishing me? Is it because I had a bacon cheeseburger in Israel? Why! I finally return home Wednesday night, about 2 1/2 days following the conclusion of the game. I'm wearing the same clothes from the Super Bowl. I haven't shaved and I appear homeless. I don't leave my room except to pee, poop, or eat. I have new roomates, but I can't interact with them. Thursday is a little better. I feel refreshed. I go to work in the afternoon and begin to show signs of a smile. A small one, but a smile. Thursday night is also the biggest night to go out in Israel. I head into Tel Aviv to drown away my sorrows in 10 dollar Arak, a liquor found in the Middle East, that tastes one part licorice and one part armpit. I forget my sorrows and my night, and that brings us to today. Friday. 5 days removed from that fateful day. How can we evaluate, objectively, the outcome, and the reaction in Boston that followed. I'll try my best.
Immediately following the game, the blame poured out. There was no solace. No feeling of pride. Just agony. And after a game such as this, a scapegoat is needed. The initial target was Wes Welker. He was bombarded by many, who put the loss squarely on his small but sturdy shoulders. The drop, which occurred late in the 4th quarter and could have put the game away, became a symbol overnight of a failed victory. Wes Welker, who caught 122 balls amassing over 1,500 yards, while being the perfect symbol of "The Patriot Way" was all of a sudden a vilified failure. While his catch certainly could have sealed the game, why so much animosity towards a guy who has done nothing but good things since his arrival in 2007? This wasn't Bill Buckner in 1986. He dropped a pass, that was poorly thrown, with over 4 minutes left in the 4th quarter. Wes Welker was clearly and visibly distraught following the game. Nobody on this Earth feels worse than he does right now.
Some have blamed Brady, including Eric Wilbur, who heartlessly slandered Brady in an article in the Globe following the game. Some have blamed Belichick while others have blamed the organization. People are confused, and when an organization such as New England experiences turmoil such as this, there is a sense of heartfelt malice towards those responsible. The question is why.
There seemed to be an explosion after the Super Bowl. Pent-up anger boiling a the surface that poured over when that Hail Mary fell to the ground. It has been 7 seasons since our last Super Bowl with the ruined perfect season occurring in the middle. We have been tantalizingly close. We're good every single year. We're always in contention. Look how incredible we've been since 2001.
2001: 14-5 SB Champion
2002: 9-7
2003: 17-2 SB Champion
2004: 17-2 SB Champion
2005: 11-7 L Divisional Round
2006: 14-5 L AFC Championship
2007: 18-1 L SB
2008: 11-5
2009: 10-7 L WC Round
2010: 14-3 L Divisional Round
2011: 15-4 L SB
Total: 150-48, Winning Percentage of 75%.
That stretch is remarkable. For modern-day NFL standards it is a period that may never be matched, and there is reason to suspect that our success will only continue for at least a few more years. In comparison, here is the Giants totals since 2001: 103-85, Winning Percentage of 55% (rounded up), with 2 Super Bowl Championships. This helps to explain why we are so distraught right now. If you look at our progression, you would think that following 2004, we would only get better. Brady was still very young and with Belichick at the helm, and a solid organization in place, one would think there would be improvement. But 2005 was a disappointment. 2006 was the heartbreaking loss to Indy, where Belichick went for it on 4th and 2, a game which many felt we gave away. 2007 was the perfect season that wasn't. 2008 Matt Cassel was our QB. 2009 ended with the Ravens running on our faces. 2010 was the loss to the Jets. And 2011 the loss to the Giants again.
It hurts so much because we've been so good. Because we've been so dominant over this decade the losses are bewildering. When something goes wrong, we feel as if everything is wrong. We wonder if Belichick and Brady have lost their touch. We are in love with this team. And love always brings heartbreak, especially in sports. The Patriots before 2001 were eerily mediocre. One Super Bowl appearance in 1996 (a loss to Brett Favre), some good years, more bad years, and a shitty stadium. Then 2001 comes, and we're thrusted into a decade of dominance. The lovable losers of Boston all of sudden have a team and a franchise that are the model for the rest of the league. Everyone wants to copy us. Assistant Coaches are hired. Front office employees snatched away.
The magic we had in the early 2000s appears to be lost. It isn't gone. But lost. And we can't find it. The fumbles no longer land in the right place. Opposing teams make miraculous catches. We make crucial mistakes, like having too many men on the field. And we can no longer get that big play or the lucky break that always seemed to be there when we needed it. We're frustrated, that for these past 7 years we've been so good, but the trophy has been evasive. And undoubtedly that frustration boiled over. Are we spoiled? Maybe. But wouldn't anyone who's been this good, for this long, be spoiled? I think, after everyone calms down, which has already happened, we'll realize we are still at the top of the pyramid in the NFL. Nobody can put claim to the fact that we are still the team to beat. So as much as may hurt now, we'll get that feeling again. We'll get that trophy soon.
