Shock and Awe(ful)

It's been two days now and I'm still not sure if I've got this right: we lost? The Patriots lost the Super Bowl? We were on the losing end of 17-14? We're 18-1?


(goddamn Tuck!)


(c'mon, seriously -- WTF?!)

Yes. We were out-coached, out-defended and just plain out-played. Brady spent most of the game on his back (and kept getting up for more 23 times) and our defense couldn't come up with the ONE play that would've sealed the deal.

I think Sunday was the closest I've ever come to crying over a game. If it weren't for the fact that I wasn't alone, I probably would've. But with my Dad, Uncle Albert, Aunty Jane and 3 younger cousins in the room, I had to man up and shake off the urge to curl into a fetal position under the coffee table.

Here's where it gets worse: I had flown to my Uncle's house in Orlando, FL, to watch the game (it's become a bit of a family tradition to watch it alongside my Dad and Uncle -- guess we've had a pretty good run of it as Pats fans). So, on Monday, I had to fly back to NY in the only warm piece of clothing I had: the Patriots hoodie I'd flown down in.

I heard it from every Giants fan on the plane, at the airport, on the train, and in the lobby of my building until I reached the safety of my apartment where I finally curled into a fetal position under my sheets. I slept for 14 hours, hoping to wake up and find it was all just a terrible dream.

It wasn't. Super Tuesday: Dan the Man's phone call woke me up. He wanted to give me the play-by-play of the ticker tape parade going by his office window in lower Manhattan (aka the "Canyon of Heroes"). As I thanked Dan for his call, I made my way to the kitchen to find a dull butter knife. I've been slowly slitting my wrists with it ever since.

Well, not really. I managed to clean myself up, vote and head into the city tonight for a friend's one-man show in the Village. I found the courage to phone up my two Giant fan friends, Bolo and J-Sok (who had attended the parade earlier), and see if they wanted to meet for dinner after. It was time for me to take my lashes.

When we met up later, I was surprised at how easy they went on me, especially after all the smack talking I'd done on the road to 18-1. What nice friends I have -- they only showed me one photo of Eli hoisting the trophy the entire dinner.

Maybe I'll remember their kindness next year...maybe.

p.s. shout out to Jimmy Johnson who reminded us after the Super Bowl of his '86 and '87 Hurricanes -- in '86, they had a perfect season that ended with a huge upset by Penn State; in '87, they had another perfect season and won the national championship. Yes, I know it's college football and probably apples to Orange Bowls, but it made me feel just a little bit better. Thanks, Jimmy (sniff).