In Belichick, I trus...fear

Fisch emailed me a Bill Simmons column about the last Jets game of last season where Simmons perfectly captured how pissed I was about having to feel the grossness of rooting for the Jets, only to have them fail. Fuck you Fahvrah, fuck you very much. Every since, I've been a huge Bill Simmons fan. I love his writing, I love his love of the Patriots, I...um...skip all his Red Sox/Celtics columns, but big Bill Simmons hugs from me. And then I read this column.

Everyone in the Kool-Aid Camp believes in certain axioms that may no longer be true -- stuff like "never bet against the Patriots after a loss" and "when in doubt, Belichick will come through." They trust the foundation: eight straight winning seasons, three Super Bowl titles and the best eight-year overall record of any team in 20 years. The foundation will prevail. Always.

(Important note: My father is a charter member of this group. In fact, when I told him that I planned to write this column, he hissed things like, "it's too early," "we'll be fine," "you give up on our teams too easily," "this reminds me of when you quit on the Celtics two springs ago" and "you're an a**hole and I wish we weren't related." All solid points.)

For the second camp, it's more complicated. You wouldn't call them naysayers, just realists. And here's the reality: Today's NFL isn't built for teams to succeed year after year indefinitely. Extending the Malibu analogy, a good foundation only lasts so long. You still need to take care of your house. Need to wash the salt off your deck every day, update the furniture, keep a fresh coat of paint on there, check that foundation every few months to make sure it's fine. You cannot slip. You cannot fall behind. You cannot take anything for granted. Or else your house will start to look like crap.

As for himself he says: As a realist and a Kool-Aid drinker, for the life of me, I cannot decide between Camp No. 1 and Camp No. 2.

Me too! Except not really, I actually think Bill Belichick might be the dark lord himself. Like, um, THE dark lord, THE. He just does everything right, all the time! How he got caught in the silly, little videoing nonsense, I'll never know. Except, it had to be in his plan somehow...
So, when Brady tore his ACL and Cassel, who hadn't started a game since high school moved to the helm, I wasn't worried. I wasn't! I remember telling Alceste, after the loss to the Dolphins, that I was sure Belichick would do whatever he needed to...er...motivate young Cassel to step up...including, but not limited to kidnapping the kid's mother until the losing stopped.
And so it is now, Belichick will find a way. First, when Kevin O'connell's body is found, I know Bill WILL have an alibi. Just sayin'. Second, um...Giselle needs to watch her stupid Nazi back...next interception Tom throws....again, just sayin'. Belichick don't play.
So, Atlanta tomorrow...
Our defense sucks, our offense is injured, Brady is dead and well, the Falcons don't exactly suck...Not.A.Good.Combo.
But fingers crosses, Pats jersey on back, in Belichick I...fear.
Let's GO RIOTS!

Quote of the Day

Hey CK, our teams may be 1-1 and key members of our team may be injured (Mayo, Welker) but at least we aren't fans of two football teams that are BOTH 0-2! When I point this out to Fisch, he texts back:

"I hate you. Don't text me."

And is thusly, quote of the day and saddest football fan ever.

1-1

I almost called this post, Tom Brady is dead. (I still might. Lot of post to be written. Stay tuned. -ed.)
My friend Matt called me up last week to ask if I wanted to go with him to the Patriots game. Matt is a Jets fan and my boys would be playing Gang Green at Giants stadium. I thought about it for all of, oh, two and a half seconds, and said yes.
I went to my very first NFL game last year at Gilette and I loved it! The crowds, the field, the players. Everything. Oh, and that Cassel put up a big fat W against the Rams didn't hurt either.
But an away game.
Ruh roh.
I would be bringing it New England style, trust that. And I was willing to get beat, doused with beer, whatevs: I am Sparta...er...Dawn.
I set my alarm. Got dolled up in my Pats sweatshirt with my Brady jersey on top. I grabbed my car keys (complete with Patriots' keychain) and headed out the door. As I walked to the elevator, I decided it wouldn't be prudent to park my car whilst wearing my Brady jersey at Giants stadium. I'd put it on after I walked a safe distance from my brand new Beamer. The son should not suffer for the sins of his mother.
As I took off my jersey, a voice from behind stopped me.
"Hey! You can't do that! Brady needs us today."
A strapping man in a Ladder 35 T-shirt was carrying stereo equipment and walking behind me toward the elevator.
"Hah. I still have on my sweatshirt. I'll put the jersey back on when I get to the game, don't worry."
"Oh, you're going? Good! They're gonna need you today."
"But we're going to win right...I can't be in the middle of a Giants stadium full of happy Jets fans."
He grimaced.
"I dunno...it's gonna be close. But it's Brady, right? You see the game Monday?"
"Hell yes!"
We high fived. The elevator reached the basement. We exchanged names and parted at his jeep.
"See ya."
"Good luck today!"
I had to drive out to Williamsburg to pick up Matt and his BFF Brian.
"How come you're not wearing a Patriots jersey?" Matt asked, getting in.
"Oh, it's in the trunk. I don't want any harm to come to my car."
He laughed.
Brian and Matt are hilarious. Matt, an unrepentant total hippie who bicycle rides everywhere and hates the man and capitalism, takes great pleasure in mocking me for driving a BMW named after the founder of Yale University. "How do you relate to normal people?"
"Are you normal?"
"No," Brian yelled from the backseat.
Brian then informed me that he and Matt are in a bicycle gang -- not motorcycle -- bicycle. You can tell this by the intimidating tats they have on their feet.
Brian then cracked me up doing impressions of the traders at his company who are all "bros" most likely to do time for date rape.
"That's just how they roll."
We couldn't find an address for the stadium, so I just inputted the city and hoped for the best.
This was the best: getting to East Rutherford and seeing signs that said "To Giants Stadium," after following these signs we started to see signs that said "Permit Holders" and they pointed toward the stadium; the other signs that said "Nonpermit holders" pointed somewhere in the vicinity of Hoboken.
"You can't park on our property without a permit," a burly man told me as I inched too close to the "Permit Holders" lanes.
Racist.
Lincoln freed the slaves, buddy. I can be on your property all I want!
Jerkface.
We followed the signs to Hoboken and came upon a lot that said "nonpermit parking. Ten bucks. At your own risk." There was a bit of a line and we waited in it. But as we sat there the scene looked sketchier and sketchier. The driver in the BMW in front of us must have been thinking the same thing because he pulled out of the line and headed back to the highway.
"Uh...should I follow him," I asked.
"It's your Beamer," Matt answered.
True dat.
I peeled off behind my fellow Beamer guy.
I followed him to a hotel lot about two miles away.
Here parking was $25, but they provided a shuttle bus back to Giants Stadium in East Rutherford.
How bullshit is all this?
I parked Prince Eli (the aforementioned BMW named after Elihu Yale) and put on my Brady jersey. I locked all my valuables in the trunk and set the car alarm. I was ready!
"Um...Dawn?"
I looked up.
"Yeah?"
Brian pointed to my wide open driver's side door.
D'oh.
He slammed it shut, I reset the alarm and this time I was really ready!
Giddy up!
We took the shuttle bus to the stadium.
The bus was filled with Brady jerseys.
"I'm surrounded," Matt groaned.
We got off and started walking past the tailgaters.
Oh, My Christian ears.
The slurs and insults being hurled in the direction of my Brady jersey are virtually unrepeatable.
Except apparently Tom Brady is a homosexual and the Patriots suck.
I kept my head down.
"You guys are my muscle, right?"
Matt started whistling and looking off in other directions.
"Actually, I'm the one most likely to start hurling insults at you when we get inside," Brian added, "But if anybody else tries to get involved I will end them. I'll be all 'Tom Brady can suck my cock,' and some guy will jump in and be all "yeah, Tom Brady sucks," and I'll be all "shut the fuck up. Was I talking to you? Was anybody talking to you? You watch your mouth in front of her," and then I'll deck 'em.
I was laughing my head off.
Oh yes. This was when I was having a good day.
Giants stadium, by the way, SUX. With an x. That's right. The bathrooms are gross throwbacks to my days as a Brooklyn public school kid in the 1970s. (Um...I mean I wasn't born in the 70s.) The seats are crap and dude everything says "Giants Stadium" everywhere. I took shit from my facebook friends for saying this, but how do you stand that...like with your face showing?
I'm a fan of New York's underdog baseball team, the Mets. If Citifield said "Yankees Stadium" all over it, I'd spit. And vomit.
OK. Anyway.
We had beautiful seats, on the endzone...which kinda made it hard to see the endzone. Hmm...hey, Tom? Was that your excuse too?
Ugh.
I was surrounded by Green.
One guy was wearing the Green Hulk hands that they made for that movie a couple of years ago. Was that cross promoted at Giants stadium?? Cause if it wasn't...dude, missed opportunity! They are perfect for Jets fans.
Some American Idol fucknut sang the National Anthem. He was doing all this stupid harmonizing shit to it, like The Star Spangled Banner needs his flash in the pan assistance to be great. Hey, Constantine. I don't. Sit your ass down. Love, The Star Spangled Banner.
The game started and the Patriots looked bad.
Four and out. I was queasy.
We drew first blood, but it was just a field goal.
I had the same feeling I had while watching The Superbowl that was Canceled two years ago. We were ahead on the scoreboard, but we were losing.
So many missed opportunities. No one could get open. Brady couldn't hit the broadside of a barn. The officials were definitely calling the game favorably, but we weren't doing our parts.
The Jets fans were making fun of me. One guy made me laugh when he saw me tweeting: "texting your friends about how cute Tom Brady is, sweetheart? OMG LOL?"
I wanted to join in when they started chanting "Boston sucks" "Boston sucks"
"Boston sucks".
What? I'm a Brooklyn girl AND A YALIE! BOSTON SUCKS, WHAT UP?
But I understood that in this context they were saying the Riots suck. AND THEY DO NOT.
Er...well, they did...but that's for me to say and you to find out.
Or something.
Second half whatever was protecting the Patriots from defeat vanished. The talisman was broken and the Jets were scoring all over our faces.
I started to dread seeing Tom on the field. Failure after failure after failure. I started screaming for them to just "go for the field goal," as soon as they got possession. In Gostkowski I trust.
Oh, mighty vomiticus, please take away my sorrow.
I gave up on the game in the 3rd quarter. About three quarters after Tom Brady, so I should be commended.
Giants stadium was fit to be tied.
They ran out the clock, taking knees like good boys and that was that.
Tom Brady's first regular season loss in...a long dang time.
A well earned loss, I'll add.
The Jets fans were gracious.
"We told you Tom Brady sucked."
"Have a nice drive back to New England, wherever that is."
"Nanana hey hey hey goodbye."
"Brady ain't shit."
I hid behind Matt.
"Aw, you're safe. They'd only hurt you if we lost."
"Yeah, it would be a little douchey to win AND beat me up."
A Pats fan -- a DRUNK Pats fan -- grabbed me into a hug from behind.
"Don't worry, honey. It's just one game. The season is long," his breath reeked of beer and his Boston accent was thick.
"Um...thanks." Stop touching me.
The boys were also very sweet.
"Hey, it's ok...maybe you guys will beat the Bengals or something...oh...right."
FUCKERS.
Preseason. That doesn't count...I...um...
Hate everybody.
Tom Brady is dead.
To me.

That's won

"Damn girl, you got money on the game?"
I was screaming my head off in an almost empty poker room at Bally's when Tom Brady drilled his second TD pass to Ben Watson in under three minutes.
"Nah, I'm just a fan."
Ha! I was decked out in my personalized Pats jersey, which I was wearing over my Patriots T-shirt. When it's game day, I bring it New England style!
Unfortunately, business meant that I would be on the road to the office, instead of on my couch or at a bar by kickoff. Alceste told me I could probably find the game on AM radio. Sure enough, as soon as I flipped the dial to AM the announcers were calling the game. My heart stopped when they said "Brady looks hurt." Fuck! Then they said something about Kansas City and Mary pointed out that it was only 7:02 -not time enough for anything to really have happened yet. Sure enough, it was just a replay of last year's season opener. No need to wrap my car around a tree.
That would come later.
When the Riots couldn't get a first down in Buffalo terrority. When Gostkowski missed the field goal. When Buffalo scored first! Ugh. Alack! Wail!
It was dark on the Garden State and the orange glow of the display on the radio console was giving the night an eery feeling.
"I wish I hadn't found this stupid radio station," I complained bitterly.
"Listening to football games in the car reminds me of when I was a kid and my dad would put them on in the car on Sundays," Mary said.
Oh, so happy for you and your having a dad as a child having ways! Do you not hear the Patriots losing, woman???!!!!
Of course, in case she couldn't hear the broadcast, she could hear my phone buzzing with texts from Vinnay after every New England disaster.
I pulled over at a resstop and began to reply to him.
"Bite me."
"Go to hell."
"Aren't you a Cowboys fan now, you stupid jerkface?"
A few moments after we got back on the road, Buffalo got a pick six and the Bills were in the lead again.
I turned off my phone. The Patriots couldn't respond and we had to settle for a field goal. Buffalo took the lead into halfttime.
I turned off the radio and glumly finished the ride in Atlantic City.
The players were back on the field by the time Mary and I got to the hotel checkin.
"What the hell are they wearing??" I screamed at the TV, horrified by the scarlet red uniforms. They reminded me of the goat sucking Hahvard Cantab uniforms. Sure enough, it was some bullshit throwback to New England's stint as the Boston Patriots. Vomit.
As I watched a couple of plays, I would accidentally root for the Bills because their uniforms looked more like the traditional Pats gear.
So frustrating.
Time for poker.
As I walked to the room in my jersey, a couple of black dudes were like "you're a Pats fan? They're not doing so good right now!"
I glared.
Seriously, I don't think people realize how personally I take my football.
I didn't bother asking what teams they rooted for.
I got to the poker room in time to see the Bills score AGAIN. Ugh.
It was grim.
By the fourth quarter I needed something good to happen. I was slumped in a chair, now taking text abuse from Doris as well. (I guess he knows his Jets don't stand a chance, so might as well latch onto the Bills' luckbox victory.)
By the time I watched the Bills come back from 3rd and 15 after a SACK to get a first down AND score a Touchdown I was ready to open a vein.
5 minutes left. Down 11. This. Game. Was. Over.
I also picked the Patriots in my suicide pool, so I would be out of that too. FIRST! Even before G-train! And he's gay! (That was inappropriate. I'm turning myself into that website now.)
I cry. I started my 'shut the hell up' blog post.
Then Brady hit Watson, and we pulled within 5.
"Big fucking deal, Tom! TOO LATE!" I yelled at the TV. And then the Pats fucked up the two point conversion.
Greeeaatt. No Gostkowski points either.
I. Was. Pissed.
I looked away and then heard the television announcers verbally wet their pants with excitement.
"New England came up with it! New England's got it!"
I looked back.
The red uniforms were furiously pointing their arms toward the Buffalo red zone.
OH MY GOD!!!!!!
I fell out of my chair.
(Dawn is NOT making that up.)
Brady was back on the field!!! My phone was suddenly silent.
Plleeaaasseee Gooooddddd.
I made my bargains with the Almighty.
Boom! Brady to Watson! TD!
It's good!
Hahahahahahahhahahahahahahhaah
I sat quitely waiting out the clock.
No premature gloating texts.
And then the beautiful F appeared.
Patriots: 25 Bills: 24 F.
Hahahhahahhahahahahahahhahaha
OH MAN.
Football is AWESOME.
A friend has gotten us tickets to go to the game at Giants stadium on Sunday.
I will be the girl wearing Patriots gear from head to toe screaming "I love you Tom!"
Quote me.
Also, um, what's the best treatment for black eyes?

Conversation of the Day

Me: The Jets are such cheaters.
KJ: Why? What'd they do?
Me: Lied about Favre's injuries!
KJ: Whatever, you think *that"s* cheating? Come on.
Me: No, but I don't think videotaping your opponents when they are practicing out in the open is cheating either.

Football Season!

With the Steelers victory over the Titans, people can stop telling me to "chill because it's only preseason." Fuckers. Not my fault your team wasn't 3-1. I'm doing two fantasy leagues this year. The first, with my old law firm buddies and bloggers extraordinaire Alceste and Vinnay. That league had a snake draft (I think that's what it's called) and I was like 8th out of ten, such sucky positioning. Of course, I took Tom Brady with my first pick, and planned to take Moss with my second pick, but the evil Mark ruined all those plans. I did end up with a three-man Patriot force though: Brady, Taylor, and Gostkowski. I also have the Steeler Defense. So last night game was a good thing! My team is called the Zac Attacks and here's the lineup:

Tom Brady
(NE - QB)
WR
Roddy White
(Atl - WR)

WR
Terrell Owens
(Buf - WR)

RB
Chris Johnson
(Ten - RB)

RB
Fred Taylor
(NE - RB)

TE
Owen Daniels
(Hou - TE)

W/T
Kevin Walter
(Hou - WR)

BN
Darren McFadden
(Oak - RB)

BN
Julius Jones
(Sea - RB)

BN
Matt Hasselbeck
(Sea - QB)
StL Sun

Steve Smith

BN
Earl Bennett
(Chi - WR)
BN
Michael Jenkins
(Atl - WR)

K
Stephen Gostkowski
(NE - K)
Buf Mon
4:00 pm 98% - - - - - - 0.00

DEF
Pittsburgh




My other league is with Scrabble people and they used a preset draft system. I guess I got number one pick in that league cause this is what my team looks like:

QB
Matt Cassel
(KC - QB)
@Bal Sun
1:00 pm 6.18 0.00
QB
Jake Delhomme
(Car - QB)
Phi Sun
1:00 pm 7.95 0.00
WR
Reggie Wayne
(Ind - WR)
Jac Sun
1:00 pm 6.77 0.00
WR
Santana Moss
(Was - WR)
@NYG Sun
4:15 pm 4.61 0.00
RB
Adrian Peterson
(Min - RB)
@Cle Sun
1:00 pm 11.14 0.00
RB
Marion Barber
(Dal - RB)
@TB Sun
1:00 pm 6.80 0.00
TE
Antonio Gates
(SD - TE)
@Oak Mon
10:15 pm 4.93 0.00
W/R
Reggie Bush
(NO - RB)
Det Sun
1:00 pm 10.70 0.00
K
Mason Crosby
(GB - K)
Chi Sun
8:20 pm 8.81 0.00
K
John Kasay
(Car - K)
Phi Sun
1:00 pm 8.05 0.00
DEF
Miami
(Mia - DEF)
@Atl Sun
1:00 pm 5.53 0.00
DEF
Cincinnati
(Cin - DEF)