why i root for losing teams

the new england patriots.  apparently, you either love them or you hate them.

i was born on the south shore of massachusetts in 1965.  although i spent far more of the following years in florida, and no new england team ever excelled in my lifetime before, say, 2000, and in spite of the fact that i never followed any sport (let alone played any), i was always a diehard new england fan.  

being a new england fan for thirty years was not a thrilling experience.  but there was something concrete about the red sox and the pats (yes, i know about the celtics and the bruins) that endured in my heart.  ten years in gainesville, florida, did not make me a gator fan, but i never gave up on my favorite professional teams.

i moved to metrowest boston in 2000, met a guy, started watching football in 2001.  i confess he made it fun.  he had no problem explaining everything that happened on the field, why it happened, and most vociferously, what the coach should have done differently.  i found that learning the inside of the game made the sports more fun.  especially football.  and then something interesting happened. 

now, if you follow football and have even a vague awareness of the eastern seaboard, you probably know the basic facts of the 2001-2002 season in new england.  bledsoe was injured and brady, an untried quarterback, took the field.

i told everyone i knew we were going to the superbowl, and of course everyone laughed.

i pity them.  not because we won.  winning was exciting, don't get me wrong.  just how exciting is the core of this post.  i pity them because they will never know the electrifying experience of watching a truly shitty team come together and play like champions.  it was watching the patriots in 2001 i learned about mental toughness.

every single game, the announcers joked about what a shit team the patriots were.  every single game, the odds were astronomically stacked against my home team.

every single game (well, almost) the patriots pulled a dramatic comeback, often in the 4th quarter.

every single game, i knew deep in my heart something strange and magical was happening on the field at foxborough and abroad.  i knew they would win.  i knew they were going all the way.

what was really funny is anyone with eyes who watched them play could have seen it.  but these pros, these reporters and announcers and statisticians and bookies, were blinded by some mysterious prejudice i still don't understand.  it was as if the entire country simply willed the patriots to suck.  moreover, they couldn't stand it when they didn't.  they were viciously critical.  and the refs - lord, don't start me on the refs.  

i still don't know shit about football, although i do know more.  it's still as much as i can do to follow the ball.  i can't predict plays.  at least i know, sort of, what's happening on the field and sometimes, why.  i can even beg the question of certain strategies.

what i really don't have are the words to describe what it's like to watch your home team shake defeat out of their teeth like a bulldog throwing a chihuahua.  what i can't possibly convey to you is what it's like to watch your home team while the announcers universally revile them, charge through blinding snow on a muddy, icy field and tear victory out of the ass of the opposing team in the last two minutes of the game by sheer guts and persistence.  theirs was a game of nothing-to-lose.  they fucked up a lot, but they left every dram of spirit and strength on the field.  and for every fuck up, they scored.  for every team weakness - and there was much we lacked in depth - the patriots compensated in sheer gumption and tenacity.  simply put, they never gave up.

when they got to the playoffs, people started paying attention.  but i still got a lot of laughs when i said we were going to the superbowl.  i thought to myself, you obviously haven't been watching them play all season.  and why would they?  they were fans of another team.  really, though, the announcers should have known.

when they went into overtime in 2002, i went outside to call a family member.  she said she'd turn the set off.  she couldn't watch.  she was afraid she would jinx it.  i went inside and watched the most deliriously thrilling winning field goal in history.

what i learned that year is that winning is about never giving up.  sure, it sounds pat.  but considering the shitstorm that has been 48 years of my life, i still see Vinitieri on the field in my minds eye with a certain glow surrounding him.  i still see that ball soaring between the posts and remember as if it were before me now, the excitement, the disbelief, the happiness, the hope that filled my heart and soul.  i had seen it, and it had been done.  if nothing as good ever happens in my life again - and it may not - and i die with my last thought that football flying through the air, i will consider it a gift.