It (Updated)

I suppose the time has come for us to talk about It. But, it must be said, we really don't want to. This was a conversation I had with my hairdresser recently:

Sia: "Blah, blah, blah, blah..."
Me: "Uh huh."
Sia: "Blah, blah blah, blah bah."
Me: "Oh yeah?"
Sia: "OH! And I haven't seen you since It happened!"
Me: (pregnant pause... just because I like that phrase. It has nothing to do with me being pregnant. Because I'm not. That would be awkward, and I would have to do some serious explaining to Ian. In retrospect, this explanation wasn't worth the fun expression...) "Sia! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!"
Sia: "Oh, neither do I, trust me, honey. Worst night of my life. But I love that you know what I'm talking about."

That's right. My very Greek hairdresser and I, we're Patriots fans. And in a city like San Diego, once you utter those words, you are either met with laughs and jeers, or outright hatred. Here in the Whale's Vagina, sympathy, empathy, or simply someone who won't spit at your face is hard to come by. So we, the few but faithful, have to stick together, and we have managed to do that by honoring our silent agreement to just not talk about It. Since that fateful night in February, we've just sat here, our heads in our hands, wondering just where it all went wrong. We've only dared to peek through the slits in our fingers to see if Moss would ever get the ink in his pen working, and now that it is certain that 12 + 81 = 6 will return for another season, we can begin to assess the damage.

Sometimes, it feels like we're just emerging into the sunlight after a huge storm that swept everything away. We've lost a lot; our house is destroyed, and we lost some of our family members (i.e., Samuel, Stallworth, and Gay). There was so much hype, this was going to be the year. From week 4, all anyone could talk about was the Pursuit of Perfection, yet our boys kept their game faces on, week after week, chanting their mantra, "One game at a time." Bill "I'm a Football God" Belichick fed them regular doses of Humble Pie, and by the time Week 16 rolled around (in what would be a chilling precursor to The Night Which Will Live in Infamy), we were ready to make history. Which we did. Sorta. Not that that is what will be remembered this season. What will be remembered? SpyGate, the Perfect Collapse, and how much it hurt when we had to swallow that jagged little pill and admit that almost doesn't count.

Some people have laughed at us, looked at us right in the face, and said, "Cheaters never prosper," "What goes around comes around," and other cliche-ridden sentiments that can hardly capture our disappointment. What these people fail to realize however, that no matter what they say, or what comes out about our team (no matter how scandalous) that the Patriots will always be Our Team. We can no less cheer for the Chargers (unless, of course, they happen to be playing the Colts) than we can go a day without breathing. Through the good times (now) and the bad times (every year prior to 2001), the Pats will be our team. So go on and hate, because nothing you say will change that loyalty. Which (must get in a subtle dig here) is more than we can say for you, San Diego, and your fairweather fans who chant "Mar-ty, Mar-ty, Mar-ty" 3 games into a regular season. 

Now, all this might seem melodramatic and over the top, but when you're as emotionally invested in a season as Patriots fans were this season, it's bound to be a crushing blow. For those of us who actually have to work at it in order to even see the games, it's especially hard. We can't wake up, go to church, head to brunch, chat with friends and then come back home to settle in for a night of football. We actually have to get up, and find a place where 1) the game will actually be broadcast and 2) a place where it's well lit or 2a) there are other Pats fans in attendance. This year, after fighting and ultimately losing my battle (and subsequently, my Sunday Ticket) with DirecTV, it was more difficult for me to get out and see the games, especially once the single mother thing kicked in. So yeah, I was emotionally invested. And yeah, I did cry when It happened. 

But I'm over it. And though August is a long ways off, I'm more confident than ever that our boys will be back next year in top form. So watch out, 'cause here come the Pats! :)