Sunday, February 03, 2008
The Agony of Defeat
The following may not be appropriate for those who are faint of heart or still experiencing emotional suffering from the unfavorable results of the Super Bowl.
Going into the game, it may have seemed like the Giants had a lot to overcome in order to leave Arizona with a victory. I thought the opposite, though. In fact, I've thought this throughout the playoffs. The Patriots were saddled with the burden of victory. They had to win. In order to cement their place in NFL history, in order to pad the case for their "dynasty" status,
in order to give one final screw you to the people who bring up an event from the first quarter of the first game of the season as soon as the Patriots beat their team, they had to win.
The Giants, on the other hand, had nothing to lose. Most people expected them to be defeated. The odds appeared to be so stacked against them that even offering a challenge to the undefeated Patriots would have been a small victory in and of itself. I got nervous before the game when I heard that Giants coach Tom Coughlin, notorious for his rules and regulations, had told his team to "just go out there and have fun". If I was a Giants fan, I would have been thrilled to hear this. That was exactly the attitude they needed to take. Play like you've got nothing to lose. That's a team you don't want to face.
The Patriots were only up 7-3 in the fourth quarter, but I felt no sense of panic. I may have been alone here, but the game seemed like it was within New England's grasp. I had to wonder if the Giants and their fans thought that the game was still up for grabs at this point. Now? I would say yes. During the game? No. I suppose that kind of attitude is created by watching a team win and win and win again and again for eighteen straight weeks. Just like when the Red Sox of old would play the Yankees, no matter how big a lead the Red Sox owned or how small a lead the Yankees possessed, you just knew that the Yankees would get some lucky break and walk away victorious. Until 2004, of course, when the curse was reversed.
I, along with many other Pats fans, I suspect, had come to rely on that lucky break. The constant clutch performances of Tom Brady, the defense that would sometimes bend, but never break, the offense that could overcome even the greatest of deficits in the shortest amounts of time (You did see the the Ravens game, yes?) -- that was all taken for granted after a certain point. It seemed like the Patriots had faced the most adverse conditions possible, yet never failed to produce a victory.
This false sense of security was what caused me to remain relatively calm right up until the ball sailed through the air and I saw that Plaxico Burress was wide open in the end zone. It was only at that moment did I realize that the Patriots would lose. This is much worse than if the Giants had jumped out to a 21-0 lead and the Patriots never had a chance. The idea that the Giants could legitimately win never entered my mind until there were 35 seconds left in the game. There was no transition from "The Giants could win" to "The Giants will win", which made that emotional punch in the stomach land a lot harder. In retrospect, of course, this was foolish. The Giants were in the red zone and had been moving the ball well all the way down the field, but this Patriots defense wasn't about to give up any easy touchdowns -- or so I thought. The G-men converted some improbable third downs and Eli Manning made a play that will most likely become the highlight of his personal highlight reel: not the TD pass, but the pass to David Tyree which a) should have never made it out of Manning's hand because the Patriots had him all but sacked and b) would not have been caught nine out of ten times, as Tyree pinned the ball against the top of his helmet as he hit the ground -- not exactly part of the repertoire for most receivers.
After the game, I thought immediately of the 2003 MLB Playoffs, when Aaron Boone hit that home run in the bottom of the 11th inning to give the Yankees the win and end what seemed to the season that the Red Sox would, once and for all, end one of the most painful droughts in sports history. What was different with that game -- in my head, not on the field -- is that I was rooting for the Red Sox to win, but really, I was waiting to see how they would lose. What felt the same between the 2008 Super Bowl and the 2003 ALCS was the frustration of months and months of victories, building hope, and ultimately leading to...nothing.
As I write this, only a few hours have passed since the final whistle, so only time will tell how this game is viewed from an historical perspective. In the best case scenario, the 2008 Patriots will be seen as having the most victories of any NFL team ever within a single season. In the worst case scenario -- brace yourselves -- the 2008 Patriots will replace the 2004 Yankees as the worst choke artists in the history of sports. Sorry for that.
Perfection is boring, though. Sure, this sounds predictable from a supporter of a team who just fell short of perfection, but think about it: once a team achieves perfection, is there anything left? Another perfect season? What if the Patriots beat the Giants and went on to have ten more perfect seasons? Would it be fun to get together on Sunday and wait for the inevitable win? Hard to imagine. The best part about sports is facing a worthy adversary. What happens when there are none left? When the Patriots faced the Rams in the Super Bowl of 2002, New England was the Little Engine That Could, facing off against The Greatest Show on Turf from St. Louis. The Rams were the best and the Patriots had something to prove. Every Patriots playoff game seemed to have every player and fan pumped full of adrenaline. This season, victory seemed to be achieved with a certain amount of nonchalance. At this point in 2008, the Patriots have already been the best, three times since 2000. I guess next year, they'll have something to prove again. Another Manning just got added to New England's hit list. Though it's painful now, next season might just get a little bit nasty...and to me, that sounds fun to watch.
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Going into the game, it may have seemed like the Giants had a lot to overcome in order to leave Arizona with a victory. I thought the opposite, though. In fact, I've thought this throughout the playoffs. The Patriots were saddled with the burden of victory. They had to win. In order to cement their place in NFL history, in order to pad the case for their "dynasty" status,

The Giants, on the other hand, had nothing to lose. Most people expected them to be defeated. The odds appeared to be so stacked against them that even offering a challenge to the undefeated Patriots would have been a small victory in and of itself. I got nervous before the game when I heard that Giants coach Tom Coughlin, notorious for his rules and regulations, had told his team to "just go out there and have fun". If I was a Giants fan, I would have been thrilled to hear this. That was exactly the attitude they needed to take. Play like you've got nothing to lose. That's a team you don't want to face.
The Patriots were only up 7-3 in the fourth quarter, but I felt no sense of panic. I may have been alone here, but the game seemed like it was within New England's grasp. I had to wonder if the Giants and their fans thought that the game was still up for grabs at this point. Now? I would say yes. During the game? No. I suppose that kind of attitude is created by watching a team win and win and win again and again for eighteen straight weeks. Just like when the Red Sox of old would play the Yankees, no matter how big a lead the Red Sox owned or how small a lead the Yankees possessed, you just knew that the Yankees would get some lucky break and walk away victorious. Until 2004, of course, when the curse was reversed.
I, along with many other Pats fans, I suspect, had come to rely on that lucky break. The constant clutch performances of Tom Brady, the defense that would sometimes bend, but never break, the offense that could overcome even the greatest of deficits in the shortest amounts of time (You did see the the Ravens game, yes?) -- that was all taken for granted after a certain point. It seemed like the Patriots had faced the most adverse conditions possible, yet never failed to produce a victory.
This false sense of security was what caused me to remain relatively calm right up until the ball sailed through the air and I saw that Plaxico Burress was wide open in the end zone. It was only at that moment did I realize that the Patriots would lose. This is much worse than if the Giants had jumped out to a 21-0 lead and the Patriots never had a chance. The idea that the Giants could legitimately win never entered my mind until there were 35 seconds left in the game. There was no transition from "The Giants could win" to "The Giants will win", which made that emotional punch in the stomach land a lot harder. In retrospect, of course, this was foolish. The Giants were in the red zone and had been moving the ball well all the way down the field, but this Patriots defense wasn't about to give up any easy touchdowns -- or so I thought. The G-men converted some improbable third downs and Eli Manning made a play that will most likely become the highlight of his personal highlight reel: not the TD pass, but the pass to David Tyree which a) should have never made it out of Manning's hand because the Patriots had him all but sacked and b) would not have been caught nine out of ten times, as Tyree pinned the ball against the top of his helmet as he hit the ground -- not exactly part of the repertoire for most receivers.
After the game, I thought immediately of the 2003 MLB Playoffs, when Aaron Boone hit that home run in the bottom of the 11th inning to give the Yankees the win and end what seemed to the season that the Red Sox would, once and for all, end one of the most painful droughts in sports history. What was different with that game -- in my head, not on the field -- is that I was rooting for the Red Sox to win, but really, I was waiting to see how they would lose. What felt the same between the 2008 Super Bowl and the 2003 ALCS was the frustration of months and months of victories, building hope, and ultimately leading to...nothing.
As I write this, only a few hours have passed since the final whistle, so only time will tell how this game is viewed from an historical perspective. In the best case scenario, the 2008 Patriots will be seen as having the most victories of any NFL team ever within a single season. In the worst case scenario -- brace yourselves -- the 2008 Patriots will replace the 2004 Yankees as the worst choke artists in the history of sports. Sorry for that.
Perfection is boring, though. Sure, this sounds predictable from a supporter of a team who just fell short of perfection, but think about it: once a team achieves perfection, is there anything left? Another perfect season? What if the Patriots beat the Giants and went on to have ten more perfect seasons? Would it be fun to get together on Sunday and wait for the inevitable win? Hard to imagine. The best part about sports is facing a worthy adversary. What happens when there are none left? When the Patriots faced the Rams in the Super Bowl of 2002, New England was the Little Engine That Could, facing off against The Greatest Show on Turf from St. Louis. The Rams were the best and the Patriots had something to prove. Every Patriots playoff game seemed to have every player and fan pumped full of adrenaline. This season, victory seemed to be achieved with a certain amount of nonchalance. At this point in 2008, the Patriots have already been the best, three times since 2000. I guess next year, they'll have something to prove again. Another Manning just got added to New England's hit list. Though it's painful now, next season might just get a little bit nasty...and to me, that sounds fun to watch.
Labels: Patriots, super bowl
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