Cursed To First - Sox and Pats forever.

We interrupt this losing streak for some Patriots news

Matt Walsh has got nothing on the Patriots the league didn't already know about, the Boston Herald has apologized to Pats fans for running the story claiming that he did, and generally, there are a lot of Pats haters out there who have had their thunder stolen this week.

But that, similar to a lack of credible evidence about WMD, isn't going to stop our government!

In particular, it's not apparently going to stop one Sen. Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania (R, natch). Nope, he wants our government to fund another Mitchell Report, but this time on only ONE football team, because clearly, IT'S ALL TEH BIG CONSPIRECY!!11!!

Jamie at the Patriot Act raised a really good point about the role hefty contributions from Comcast (currently embroiled with the NFL over the NFL Network) may be playing in Specter's zeal for this particular issue. But really, at this point, I have to wonder if ol' Arlen has, say, looked outside or read a newspaper lately.

Given the number of pressing issues he could and should be focusing on at this time - a foreign war, an economy in recession - his continued obsession with this issue passes beyond the absurd, in my opinion, and into the morally reprehensible. Personally, I think the public would be better served by an ‘independent investigation’ into how Mr. Specter is using taxpayers’ time and money.

You can read further bloviating by me on this whole hot mess over here.

Turning the Corner

Each year, it comes at a different time--my flip of the switch from football back to baseball, and from baseball back to football. Sometimes a particularly mind-blowing finish for the Red Sox has delayed my serious interest in football until late in the season, Christmastime in the dark post-Grady days of 2003. This year is the first time I have experienced a similar bittersweet combination in reverse.

I haven't been unenthused through as good a chunk of the Sox regular season as I was with the Patriots in '03, but then the end of baseball season also overlaps well into the beginning of football season. And I've still spent a good three weeks now in a funk about the Patriots, when not in a fury over some of the crazier invective being thrown around vis a vis Bill Belichick being the son of Satan, the stripping of trophies, etc.

I know a lot of people, like my dad, for instance, whose immediate response to the Patriots loss was "pitchers and catchers in ten days." I couldn't make the transition so fast, though. I couldn't take my mind off the loss, the same way I couldn't take my mind off the Red Sox for a while when they had lost, no matter how delightfully the Patriots might have been doing. The only way I can describe the feeling of such a loss, whether in 2003 at Yankee Stadium or 2008 in Phoenix, Ariz., is to quote one of the fans on the HBO Curse of the Bambino special talking about the '86 World Series: "It was like staring into the sun."

I've been accused of trying to rationalize certain things about the Patriots, and I may be guilty of giving them too much of the benefit of the doubt, but when it came to the game itself and the way it slipped away in the final seconds, that stuff I was facing full on, struggling to stare into that sun without blinking.

Ironically, I had braced myself for being mocked over the details of the game: how Tom Brady had been shown up by Eli freakin' Manning, legendary Super Bowl capping scoring drive for legendary Super Bowl capping scoring drive (because if the Pats had won that game, we'd have all been talking about how he threaded the needle to Randy Moss in the end zone to take the lead with 2 minutes and 40 seconds). How thoroughly the Giants defense had overwhelmed the offensive line. How cruelly they'd punished Brady throughout the night. How even with a lead and as early as halftime, I'd had a sick feeling in my stomach watching the Giants' D flat-out outplay the Pats, regardless of what the scoreboard said.

Instead, what I got was a whole lot of highly judgmental blather about cheating because of something that had happened months earlier and people wanting to offer their own personal condescending psychoanalysis of me as a Patriots fan, and of Patriots fans in general. I'd been expecting people to attack the team; I wasn't expecting them to attack me.

So there were two dimensions to the agony of the  Patriots' fall from grace this year,  which kept me for the first time moping about football this far into Spring Training--the gut punch of the loss and the swarmed-by-gnats feeling of the philosophical debates with my fellow fans afterwards.

But earlier this week, Thursday to be exact, I turned the corner. Football has begun to recede mercifully into the background and the Red Sox have caught my attention again.

The moment that first really got me going about baseball this year took place at the beginning of the SportsDesk highlights of the Sox thrashing the BC kids the other night. I know what you think--that it must've been seeing Josh take the mound like Godzilla compared to those college pantywaists (or so he'd be thinking in his head). But oddly enough, it wasn't. Instead, it was Manny, digging in at the plate.

It was, objectively speaking, a throwaway moment--not the outcome of the at-bat but this random image at the beginning of it, Manny with his hand to his helmet, settling it down over his dreadlocks, then planting his right foot and leaning back. But in just a few seconds, it made me turn the corner back to baseball again.

In that moment, a new nuance of contrast between football and baseball stood out to me, as usually happens during these transitional times: in baseball, you get to know the players' facial expressions and body language down to the last little tic and quirk, unencumbered by padding and face masks. And so in baseball, you have a particular kind of delight not found in football--watching Manny work his way into his stance during a meaningless at-bat in spring training can touch off the memory of the other times you watched him in meaningful games. Just seeing that particular angle of his foot to his hip to his shoulder made me start to get excited about baseball again.

So far, this weekend, the Red Sox have rewarded my attention with a win over the Minnesota Twins, a shelling for Jon Lester, a solid appearance for Papelbon wearing Manny's jersey, a shelling for Clay Buchholz, and the lovely relaxed sensation of watching games that mean nothing.

Welcome back, baseball. It's such a strange feeling for you to be my salvation this year.

Be right with you....I hope

I'm sick of this. The days are getting longer and the beginnings of baseball are blooming down in Ft. Myers, Fla., and I should be reveling in the upcoming ring ceremony at Fenway Park and the endless source of delight that is Jonathan Papelbon. On top of it, I am well and truly sick of bickering and name-calling and scandal! scandal! scandal! over the Patriots.

And yet, the continuing drama over the Pats is really all I can think about when it comes to sports. I spend more time ruminating on Spygate and the latest flame war over the Patriots than I do contemplating whether Clay Buchholz will make the starting rotation or what the deal is with Curt Schilling's shoulder. I'm poring over comments threads on Boston sports websites, tossing back and forth the various existential questions, thrown gauntlets and moments of cognitive dissonance that accompany the latest fresh bad news about Bill Belichick's reputation, instead of hunting for the latest bleeped-out sound-bite from Josh Beckett.   

Since I'm thinking about it anyway, I've thrown out my point of view on things over at MVN--detailed the admittedly uneasy resolutions I've come to for now on the whole mess.

I can't speak for other Patriots fans, nor do I intend to. I can't answer for other Patriots fans who may have been obnoxious in the past, and the issue of whether or not we deserve this as a fan base is a pointless argument I'd rather not continue to have. Right now there's enough complexity just sorting out the facts.

So here's how I see things... 

Dear Bill Belichick

I thought we'd talked about this red hoodie idea before.

P.S. I really, really wish we'd gone for the field goal instead of the end zone on that 4th and 13.

At any rate, at least they can't say we cheated.

True Colors

It's such a big game today, even our US Senators don't have anything better to worry about. So it should follow that the Statue of Liberty has weighed in too.

Screw all the haters. GO PATS.

Tom Brady, dudes

From the ingenious e-card collection at someecards.com.

Das Boot

Buckle up, folks, Boston and New York are facing each other for the championship.

And New York has tossed out the first volley:

This story was first broken by the New York Post: Tom Brady was spotted in New York outside Gisele's apartment wearing a cast on his right foot.

Now, before you freak, like I did, consider the following:

1) He's walking

2) He's walking while carrying stuff

3) It's a soft, removable cast

4) He plays with his feet and ankles taped all to hell

5) He's walking.

He says he'd "have to be on a stretcher" to miss the Super Bowl. I believe that. But still, any hint or semblance that Tom Brady is remotely injured is enough to have any Bostonian reaching for the Valium.

And in New York, they know that, the bastards.

AFC Champions

(Globe Staff Photo / Barry Chin)

IT

(Globe Staff Photo / Matthew J. Lee)

NEVER

(Globe Staff Photo / John Tlumacki)

GETS

(Reuters photo...found, along with the others, at this Boston.com photo gallery, which is worth a gander in its entirety)

OLD.

What time is it? GAME TIME

ESPN sideline reporters have been keeping up this level of desperate hypitude amid the Martian temperatures at Lambeau Field since 10 am, God bless 'em. This particular hypothermia victim is demonstrating the type of head sock that may be worn by players, and perhaps even some fans. Riveting television.

However, ESPN also has Ray-Ray as one of the Sunday NFL Countdown commentators, which is a point very much in their favor. Who doesn't love watching Ray-Ray ad-lib on, well, pretty much anything? He's already discussed how he would, if his team were playing in this extremely cold game, get his teammates fired up to play by wearing a half-shirt to demonstrate his imperviousness to the elements. And the pep talk for the Chargers? Simply epic. Everything is better with Ray-Ray on the mic.

As for the Pats. I had a scare this week that our #1 offensive weapon was going to become persona non grata in the football world once again, but further information revealed allegations against Randy Moss leveled by a Florida woman to be spurious. And so I've since found his sheepishly grinning attempts to hold his own against a cavalcade of mic and tape recorder wielding reporters, well, oddly adorable.

I acknowledge that Randy Moss has, at times in the past, been a complete shithead, and I make no attempts to defend any of his previous behavior, with the exception of the 'mooning incident'. That was just downright funny, even though Joe Buck, anticipating the ire of the same uptight schoolmarms in the national audience who would later make Janet Jackson's partially-uncovered boob a nightmare for CBS, called it like the crash of the Hindenburg.

But really, I see the humor in Randy Moss. In fact, it's getting to the point where I kind of love him a little. He can be flippant, and irreverent, but he's not without intelligence, and has a certain carefree appreciation for the absurdity of his own most outrageous moments that I can't help but find charming.

Or maybe it's the way he catches 65-yard touchdown passes from Tom Brady. You know, either or. But let's just say the Moss has grown on me (yuk! yuk!) this season, and it was to my great relief that I heard what had first been characterized as a "domestic violence incident" turned out to be an accidentally sprained finger and a demand for $500,000. Pfft.

In retrospect, Moss notified Patriots management and ownership promptly, addressed the issue proactively in the press, and in general handled this latest 'scrape' with more aplomb than he's mustered in the past. Some light bulb, somewhere, has gone on since the Randy Moss of Minnesota. He still relishes the appearance of the outlaw, but it now seems he was also in earnest about wanting to do right this time around.

Meanwhile, one of the highlights of my week has been the outpouring of Patriots hype I've heard and seen while traveling around the northern-Massachusetts / southern-New Hampshire area. I've seen mailboxes shaped like Patriots helmets, elaborately decorated GO PATRIOTS homemade banners hung up on fences and trees and the sides of houses, innumerable flags and stickers and expressions of support on dozens of vehicles, inflatable yard decorations, a sea of Welker and Moss and Brady and Bruschi jerseys. I've heard constant chatter and conversation about "The Game." As in, "What are your plans for The Game?" "I'm gonna watch The Game with my buddies down the bar." "Dood, you psyched for The Game?"

I've seen a statistically significant drop in productivity across the state due to the time people are spending either creating or watching things like this:

It doesn't jibe with what I've seen this week, but for whatever reason, the Boston fan doesn't have a much better reputation than Moss in many circles now that our teams are winning; in many parts of the country, we're in the same vilified boat as our top-flight wide receiver. Yet, as with Moss's legal struggles this week, the scolding voices are fading mercifully into the background more and more the closer kickoff gets.

It really can't get here soon enough. And when it does, we in New England are all hoping for the same thing from the opening series: the deepest of passes down the sideline, hitting No. 81 in stride.

How do you like me now?

(ESPN.com photo)

I wish I could've found a photo of Peyton Manning literally being thrown aside by the Chargers on the run-back of an interception during their 28-24 victory at the RCA Dome today. That image would be a perfect summation of the game those two teams played, to say nothing of the personal satisfaction it holds for me.

Instead, I'll have to settle for the image above of Randy Moss's playoff press conference ensemble this week, which tops last week's outfit, despite the fact that I did not think such a thing possible.

Sort of like how, just when you think the Patriots can't get any better, they go out and switch from a high-flying passing offense to a balanced passing-running attack, and do the equivalent on the defensive side despite being rated near the bottom of the league in yards allowed per carry during the regular season.

It's all because of the Jedi mind-control Bill Belichick has over his players, clearly (except when it comes to their press-conference outfits, of course). You can read more about my armchair theories on that front, and find out what part a home-made sledgehammer played in yesterday's contest, over here.

In the meantime, I'd like to take this space to gloat about the Chargers' victory just a little more.You know what my favorite part was? The part where Peyton Manning was sitting on the bench (again, some more) and the CBS cameras zoomed way in on his Peyton Manning Face, and lingered there while his jaw muscle twitched. And then Dan Dierdorf said, "Boy, look at his jaw muscle twitching!" And I laughed. Because I am a bitter, vindictivie Patriots fan, and seeing the Postseason Peyton Manning Face is one of my greatest joys in life.