Satan

while all that drama was unfolding at Fenway, the Bruins were in double-overtime at the Garden, and Satan, yes Satan, scored the game winning goal against Ryan Miller. Well, Miller's used to coming in second by now. The Bruins, who were one of the flattest teams in the NHL this year, somehow remembered how to hit folks and made hockey relevant again.

Continue reading "Walk-Offs at Fenway Park, Skate-off ..."

Well, things seemed pretty good for a while, didn't they? And, of course, for the rest of the world, that was the "best super bowl ever" (I guess people are so souped to watch my Pats go down that they're willing to overlook a lethargic, ugly first half of a game). And yeah, I've seen the gracious Boston fans, tipping their hats to the New York Giants, giving credit where (admittedly) credit is due, and all those hallmarks of grace and cordiality. But then I remembered: I'm from Boston. It's not really our style. So, yeah, I'm bitter. I'm bitter that we had a chance to seize the title of Best Team of All Time, to grab Mercury Morris and Don Shula and the rest of the insufferable '72 Dolphins by the throat and tell them to Shut The Hell Up Forever, that we could have cemented a true football dynasty in an era where such a thing is supposed to be impossible. Now? 16-0 doesn't matter so much as 18-1, and any discussion of the Greatness of the '07 Patriots is followed with a "Yeah, but..." And Giants fans- this isn't about you, so don't take it personally. You're World Champs because you won the game. Noone can take that away from you, and I'm not even trying. But I'm also not about to sit here and say that I'm happy for you, either. No, it's time to pull a Belichick: scowl, pout, frown, and own this loss. Own the pain of blowing a game you could have won. Own the humiliation that comes from knowing that you scoffed at the rest of the world who was rooting against you, just to prove them all right. Because if you really own it, then maybe the next time you get to that precipice, you'll do things just a little bit differently. At the end of the day, we can throw all the platitudes and sportsmanship aside, and call this one like it is. It was always about us against the haters. It was always about shoving it in their faces. And, most importantly, it was always about 19-0. And we didn't get it done. 

Continue reading "The Aftermath"