Seattle Schadenfreude

From birth to present, I've been a New England Patriots fan. Following the team's first (non-joke) Super Bowl appearance in 1997, Pete Carroll became their head coach; he skillfully took them from good to mediocre, to bad, to a joke (again) in a scant three years.

The year after I graduated from the University of Southern California, that very school (because Yahweh knows I'm a football fan and hates me) handed Patriots-ruiner Pete Carroll the reins of its vaunted football team.

Over the next eight years, I was left to impotently try to explain to my fellow alumni that Pete Carroll was a terrible football coach while he ostensibly "led" USC to two national championships and received (unwarranted) credit for returning the Trojans to prominence.

Finally, in 2009, the emperor's new clothes were revealed as USC sucked goat balls. And what has Pete Carroll done as a result?

He has bailed, taking a wholly-undeserved sick contract to coach the NFL's Seattle Seahawks.

While I feel bad for the football fans of Seattle and the meager-hope-trumping failure that they will experience in 2010, I am very excited to say to Pete Carroll:

Best of luck in in the Pacific Northwest, you mealy-mouthed sonofahamster. The ghost of Drew Bledsoe's career-that-could-have-been awaits you on "ESPN Purgatory".

Your Future Bowl Champions, the New England Patriots

Now that that silly Super Bowl featuring teams that I had no vested interest in is over, the model citizens at Sportsbook have laid the odds for next year's contest, and--voila!--the New England Patriots will be Super Bowl XLIV champions (at least according to a majority of professional gamblers)! This despite the team--in The Spread's words--"not even qualify [sic] for the postseason in 2008".

Hey, fuck you, The Spread. You just failed to qualify for the Grammar Playoffs, and you don't even have Brett Favre to blame.

[Deadspin]

Buzzsaw Unplugged

Seconds after the Arizona Cardinals' Larry Fitzgerald made an insane, 64-yard reception-and-run for a go-ahead touchdown with less than three minutes remaining in Super Bowl XLIII on Sunday, I produced my iPhone and typed out a congratulatory email to Deadspin founder Will Leitch, an honorably loyal-for-life fan of the perennial doormat that was, at that moment, on the verge of an impossible victory. I didn't send the email, mind you--as a born-and-bred supporter of Boston-area professional sports teams since long before the region's recent run of championships, I possess the forethought to never risk jinxing an underdog (especially one whose fans are not apparent among the wildly arbitrary accusations of racism that occasionally compel me to make a frowny-face on the internet); at the same time, I wanted it to be among the first five hundred emails that Leitch would receive after the Cardinals defeated the Pittsburgh Steelers, because I'm self-important. So I had it ready.

Then a bunch of ridiculous things happened in the game and the Steelers came back to win it, 27-23.

It wasn't my fault, Will and the few dozen Arizona Cardinals fans who actually exist. It wasn't my fault!

Let it be known in my defense that I bet a substantial amount of American dollars on the Cardinals without the points (Pittsburgh was favored by 6 1/2). So your moral loss, Arizona Cardinals fans, is my financial loss...unless you also bet on the Cardinals without the points.

Then again, a real fan of the team would've done that anyway...so, come to think of it...this is really my loss more than anyone's.

What the F, Cardinals?! Two Super Bowls in a row, I get my heart broken??

Patriots, Act

For the last few weeks, as the regular baseball season began to drag its feet toward the playoffs and sports fans' attention began to wander toward autumn (in most cases because their fantasy baseball teams and/or their actual baseball teams and/or both were already in the crapper), people have been asking me, a fairly outspoken New England Patriots fan, if I am excited about the start of the NFL season.

Surprisingly--perhaps to no one more so than myself--my answer has been: "Enh."

The fact is, I'm mad at the Patriots. Not because they lost the Super Bowl last season and not because they fell one game short of historic perfection...but because those things happened as a direct result of the fact that the Patriots bought into their own hype. There's nothing wrong with a team believing that it can't be beat--one could even make the argument that such is the essence of athletic competition. But as soon as a team starts deriving that kind of unreasonable confidence less from itself and more from a third party--say, for example, bandwagon fans who were barely aware that the team existed before 2001--it has reserved itself a front row seat at its own Comeuppance Circus.

Think I'm overstating the matter? I suggest you familiarize yourself with the tale of the mentally disabled quarterback who earned a Super Bowl ring on the back of the Patriots' hubris.

Given that I am deeply familiar with the vitriolic hatred that fans of professional sports teams outside the Boston area have felt, with increasing dedication, toward fans of Boston-area-based professional sports teams ever since the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004, I understand that most "Patraters" would be eager to view my apparent indifference as a surefire indication of a fair-weather fan. As it happens, those are people who had never given a second thought to Patriots fans prior to 2001...and that actually would make them, in a sense, "fair-weather haters".

I ask you this, fair-weather Patraters: Did you hate the Patriots fans back when Steve Grogan was running the offense on the field in Foxborough Stadium? No...you didn't. Because, not only have you never heard of Steve Grogan, you don't even know what Foxborough (also incorrectly spelled as "Foxboro") Stadium is. Mosi Tatupu--whom you've also never heard of--will gladly see you out the door.

At ten o'clock a.m. (PST) on Sunday, I will be seated front and center before my television set, surrounded by friends loved ones--all of them tried and true fans of the NFL team from Foxborough ("Foxboro" to the poseurs)--and I will be rooting for my New England Patriots with every last ounce of my sportsfan soul.

And if they don't lose to the Chiefs, which they probably won't, I'll be rooting for them to lose the next game...and, perhaps, the one after that.

I will do this because I truly love my Patriots, and I therefore realize that their media-drowned quest for a "perfect" season last year--and the ridiculous, jinx-tastic pressure that came with it--was what kept them from achieving a championship season.

Any NFL fan who would rather see his team have a perfect regular season (which, for the record, the Patriots did last year) than win the Super Bowl is the absolute antithesis of a genuine fan.

Which would mean that he's a New York Giants fan.

Which would mean that he's all about the Jets, now, because they have Brett Favre.

In either case, he calls himself a "New York" fan while rooting for a team that plays in New Jersey...which makes him a sad, sad shell of a person.

The Patriots Are 19-0! (As Envisioned By Reebok)

I knew Sunday's debacle was just a bad dream.

(Courtesy of Deadspin via Larry Brown Sports)

Hillary Clinton of Arkansas by Way of Illinois Sucks Up To Football Team From New Jersey in Attempt to Please New York, Lose Massachusetts

"Clinton grinned and said, 'Hm, I wonder why,' referring to Obama’s support of [the] New England [Patriots]."

That legendary wit of Senator Clinton was unleashed to point out the likelihood that Barack Obama's decision was motivated by the fact that he has been endorsed by Ted Kennedy and a number of other prominent Massachusetts figures.

Way to stick it to him, Hill! You've no doubt been a Giants fan fo' life!

Thanks to Dave for the tip.

'Twas a Big Weekend for the Overrated Spawn of Failures

If Miley Cyrus is to Billy Ray Cyrus what Peyton Manning is to Archie Manning, Hannah Montana's surprising success during a weekend shared by an absolutely incomprehensible victory on the part of the least Manning leads a person to wonder if there isn't a half-formed goblin child currently chained to a radiator pipe in the basement of the Cyrus home who at this time next year will be starring in the #1 movie in the country.

Super Bowl XLII Replaced With Faulty Tecmo Bowl Cartridge

The more times Tom Brady got sacked yesterday--courtesy of an offensive line that appeared to be made of ectoplasm--or threw passes that vanished into thin air, the more suspicious I became.

But it wasn't until the fourth quarter, when flailing nincompoop Eli Manning closed his eyes and hurled his umpteenth hopeless prayer of the game and the ball ended up magically stuck to the side of David Tyree's helmet, did I know for certain that the world was witnessing a complete work of fiction.

It was a bold choice on the part of the NFL, and it certainly paid off for Fox in television ratings. However, since the Patriots had worked so hard to stay undefeated through the season, it might have been nice if the league had given them a chance to play in the Super Bowl instead of replacing them with digitally-rendered suckbots.

A Super Bowl Olive Branch

So much has already been said in anticipation of today's historic contest that I am uncharacteristically compelled to refrain from throwing my own thoughts on the pile.

Instead, I will take the high road, and hope only that the Patriots will make Eli Manning violently suffer for his brother's staggeringly undeserved Super Bowl victory last year, regardless of the facts that (1) he had nothing to do with that outcome and (2) he's functionally retarded.

May the best team* win!


[*As long as it isn't the New York Giants, because they're not good.]

'12' Is the Reverse of '21'

...much like not going to the Super Bowl is the opposite of going to the Super Bowl.

Have fun taunting Peyton Manning on the golf course, Philip Rivers.

(P.S. - Hey, Tom Brady? Speaking of the Super Bowl...it would be great if you don't throw as many interceptions in that game as you did on Sunday. It'll be easier to win that way.)

Patriots Win Super Bowl*

*I'm just kidding. That won't happen for a couple of weeks.

But no Sinbad parties for you, Pat Coyle!

I Love You, Pat Coyle

[Full disclosure: The source material in this post was snatched right off the coattails of Deadspin, the gold standard of sports-derived humor on the internet. I just couldn't help myself.]

As a Patriots fan, I used to be upset that New England puked up an 18-0 lead on the Indianapolis Colts in the 2007 AFC Championship Game in an eventual loss (you'd think that with eyes that big, Reche Caldwell could've not dropped a couple of passes) that allowed the Colts to go on and win a giveaway Super Bowl against a team led by the worst quarterback to ever appear in such a contest. And while I still think it would have been nice had Tom Brady not been able to get quite the early start on his offseason baby-making that he did, I have finally found something good that came of the Colts' Super Bowl victory:

The linguistic stylings of Pat Coyle.

Coyle, apparently, is the Executive Director of Digital Business for the Indianapolis Colts and as a member of the organization, he was able to partake in the Super Bowl ring ceremony Wednesday night. Let's ignore for our purposes the spurious validity of a team's "Executive Director of Digital Business" laying claim to a Super Bowl ring and focus instead on the magic that is Coyle's firsthand recap of the night's events.

The evening's alleged entertainment came courtesy of Sinbad (of "not being heard from in over a decade" fame), and one might presume that this cast a pall of sadness over the proceedings. Not in Indianapolis, and not for Pat Coyle! He in fact dedicates the bulk of his article to the altitudinous jokester, describing him as "flat out hilarious" and recounting an episode where he himself was "roasted" by Sinbad when he called into question Coyle's ability to assert himself in his marriage. Was Coyle angered by this affront? No, because--as he insightfully explains--"it was all in good fun." (He also unironically categorizes Sinbad's performance as "comedy".)

After expressing amazement over the fact that football fans in Indianapolis are interested in the Indianapolis Colts' Super Bowl rings ("Lots of people have asked me, 'are you getting a ring? did you get the ring yet?' and other similar questions"), Coyle backtracks to--from completely out of nowhere--drop some Jesus on us, describing how the appearance of a gospel choir helpfully reminded him that "all good and perfect things come from God."

He certainly does work in mysterious ways--I'll give you that much, Coyle. For while I had for many months been saddened by the Colts' Super Bowl victory, seeing it as a reminder of the Patriots' failure, I now see that it needed to happen in order to bring you into my life...and bless me with eternal gratitude for the collective fact that I don't live in Indianapolis and I never will.

Vitaminwater Leaves Urlacher $100,000 Thirstier

Continuing the Chicago Bears' storied tradition of promoting non-NFL-sanctioned sponsors at Super Bowl-related events and being forced to pay handsomely for the indiscretion, linebacker Brian Urlacher has been fined $100,000 for wearing a vitaminwater cap (as in baseball, not bottle--that would've just been silly) and drinking the advertised beverage during the media day leading up to the most recent NFL title game.

Gatorade is the official beverage of the NFL and, apparently, nobody--no matter how tough he might think he is--fucks with Gatorade.

This incident marks the first time that a fine of such magnitude has been levied (Jim McMahon was hit with a comparatively measly $5000 charge for a similar offense back in 1986), although $100,000 is the current standard. What's crazy is that the same violation brings with it a fine of $10,000 during the regular season, but 50 grand during the Pro Bowl. Five times the amount for a game that that is probably viewed by about a fifth as many people? I guess the NFL has to make up for lost revenue somewhere.

Now 'The Today Show' Will Never Win the Super Bowl

Former NFL running back Tiki Barber (y'know--the Barber twin who didn't win a Super Bowl) is set to become an NBC television personality, a hiring that is scheduled to be formally announced by NBC in a press conference on Tuesday. Barber, who will begin his new job in April, will be a news correspondent for “The Today Show” and is expected to have a role in the NBC’s Sunday night football broadcasts.

Personally, I think this is a very risky signing for NBC, particularly with regards to "Today". Barber has said that rather than being another ex-athlete who sits on a panel and pontificates about the game he used to play, he wants to be a "do-it-all" broadcaster...specifically citing "Today" co-host Matt Lauer as the type of broadcasting personality he hopes to become.

How can the network not see the writing on the wall? He might be all smiles and "no regrets" on the surface, but you just know that to retire after one of the best seasons of his career without a Super Bowl ring is just eating Tiki up inside. It might not happen right away, but sooner or later that repressed rage is going to fry some circuits in Barber's brain, leading to an altogether deadly Single White Female situation between him and Lauer, the unwitting object of Tiki's misdirected obsession. I don't see this turning out well for anybody...particularly Meredith Viera, whom Tiki might very well end up killing with a shoe. Tune in this spring!

Donovan McNabb Donates Soup, Lies

While appearing at a press conference at the Super Bowl media center Wednesday, where Campbell's soup announced it was donating 1 million cans to food banks nationwide, sometime Philadelphia Eagles quarterback and all-the-time Campbell's soup pitchman Donovan McNabb said he wasn't jealous of the success Jeff Garcia experienced as his injury-necessitated replacement this season. If that's the truth, I will personally eat every last one of those cans.

Sure, Donovan. You're probably happy that a 75-year-old man who couldn't get a roster spot at the start of the season as a backup in Canadian disabled leagues and who looks like a turtle ended up making the job you cry about every year look easy. In fact, you probably have Jeff Garcia posters hanging on your bedroom walls...and those knife slashes ended up in them because you're not jealous.