The Patriots have been friend-zoned by the Mistress of Football Fate.
Granted, fans uttering the contrary would be wise to point out that merely reaching the Super Bowl is far better than, say, being a Jets fan, but there's something especially painful about coming so close to snatching the ultimate prize, only to be snatched back at the last moment. Twice.
New England faithful have now reached a critical crossroads following yesterday's 21-17 loss in Super Bowl XLVI in Indianapolis, one straddled by self-loathing and innate hatred, two sentiments that, in most cases surrounding post-defeat depression, are mutually exclusive.
Why stuck at this juncture as opposed to firmly marching down one path? The repeat of Super Bowl XLII was a worst-case scenario for Patriots fans: New York, that bloated symbol of corporate greed and forever the antithesis to good-ol', family-centric Boston, held the Lombardi Trophy high for the second time in five seasons. Yet New England was completely undone by its own mistakes, which makes this second pill even harder to swallow.
The safety on the first offensive play from scrimmage. The errant downfield interception. The dropped passes and "missed opportunities." Three Giants fumbles that never ended up in the opposing team's arms.
Interestingly, the room for blame exists, and surely the mistakes will leave a lingering bitterness, but no singular individual will become the definitive scapegoat. Had Welker's dropped pass with four minutes left in the fourth quarter occurred in the end zone, then sure, garrulous columnists across the country would be talking about the mustachioed man who cost New England a chance at redemption.
And yet here we are, the morning after, trying to dissect what went down as an instant classic, and, more importantly, how Patriots fans will react to another disappointment at the hands of Big Blue.
Some may wish to power through, to slowly begin the long climb back to the top, similar to 2008. Others may call for total dismantlement, to wipe the slate clean — save Brady and Belichick, of course — and start fresh. More still might focus their attention on Brady's wife, Gisele Bundchen, who threw Brady's receivers under the bus after the game, saying:
"You [have] to catch the ball when you're supposed to catch the ball. My husband cannot f---ing throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time. I can't believe they dropped the ball so many times."
Problem is, it's going to be difficult to execute the infamous Boston self-loathing — "Oh, woe is me. I'm suffering and no one understands my pain," — so long as people are still talking about Eli Manning.
Somewhere along the way, the younger Manning transformed into one of the league's best postseason quarterbacks — if not the best at the moment — and has won two Super Bowls with nary the slightest bit of cockiness. He was average in the second half on Sunday night, settling for field goals and twice burning crucial timeouts.
Then he threw the pass, that gorgeous opus to Mario Manningham for 38 yards within an inch of the sideline that, from a purely technical standpoint, was far more impressive than David Tyree's helmet catch four years ago. From there, Manning just chipped away at the Patriots defense, methodically moving the ball until Ahmad Bradshaw fell into the end zone.
No fist pumps, no ridiculous NBC photo montages, just a two-time MVP who, even after winning his second Super Bowl and likely solidifying his status as a Hall-of-Fame quarterback, still exhibited the enthusiasm of someone who got dragged against his will into a middle school Homecoming photo opportunity. Only with Eli Manning could a Super Bowl-winning QB from New York twice be painted as an underdog.
Brady, the fallen Bostonian hero, and Manning, forever the triumphant little guy. Together again. Right where we left them four years ago.
