I never really hated the New York Yankees as individuals. Or the Dallas Cowboys. Or the Miami Dolphins. Or the Los Angeles Lakers. Or even the Montreal Canadiens (though I may make an exception here).
I’m sure there were some good, solid people who wore pinstripes, and that more than a few guys who wore the lone star on their helmets were the epitome of Christian charity.
Though I loathe Don Shula and the undefeated 1972 Dolphins who pop open the champagne when the last NFL team loses for the first time each season, I’m sure many of those imbibers are good guys. And I may have despised Kobe Bryant, but how could you not like Magic Johnson, admire Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or respect Michael Cooper’s ability to guard Larry Bird? Jean Beliveau? Maurice Richard? Guy Lafleur? Ken Dryden? All seem, or seemed, to be ordinary guys and extraordinary players.
It’s not them I couldn’t stand. It’s the fact that they were the ones who made rooting for Boston sports teams such torture. With the exception of maybe the Cowboys, who were just obnoxious on general principle, the rest of the aforementioned contributed to a steady stream of epic household tantrums caused by my teams’ inability to beat these bums.
Who were the Patriots playing on Monday Night Football the night John Lennon was killed? The Dolphins, and in Miami, where they hadn’t won since 1966. Right after Howard Cosell told the country of the horrific events in New York, John Smith, the “Weetabix Kid,” had a field goal blocked that would have won the game for the Patriots. Naturally, the Dolphins won in overtime and it was five more years before the Pats won in Miami.
That sums up Patriots fans’ feelings of frustration back then. They were always terrible, and in the rare moments they were competitive, refs like Ben Dreith would find phantom penalties to call on them.
So I get it. I understand why the rest of the country hates the Patriots. I see those memes on Facebook that show tiny region New England as the only area of the country that rooted for the Patriots against Jacksonville Sunday, and against the Eagles in two weeks.
I heard all the pregame excuses. The NFL wanted the Patriots, and not the Jaguars, so it could maximize Super Bowl ratings. The Patriots have the referees in their pockets (this began with Walt Coleman and the “Tuck Rule” game in 2002 and is never out of fashion with the haters).
It doesn’t hurt their cause that the Patriots got caught twice, allegedly for cheating. The first time was legit. It may be a stupid rule (you can’t film opponents from field level) but that’s how it goes.
The other one (deflategate) was a little less legitimate, at least to me. But thanks to the sheer repetition of the charge, and the unbelievably excessive fallout that accompanied it, the Pats were rebranded as cheaters. Now, no matter what they do, it’s tainted. Those who lose tend to want to think it’s anybody’s fault but theirs.
So far, I’ve read that the penalty on Barry Church of the Jags after he clearly speared Rob Gronkowski on the helmet was a cheap call. It wasn’t a cheap call. It was a cheap hit. Did these people see the play?
I also read that the referees “took away” a big gain by the Jaguars because of an iffy delay-of-game call. No. The Jags had 40 seconds to snap the ball. The clock expired before they did. They got called. We all learned to count before we even reached the first grade, didn’t we?
The Jags were also victimized by a pass interference penalty in the first half because Brandin Cooks did a bit of nifty footwork to draw it. Maybe that’s not the most sporting thing to do, but then again, neither is driving to the hoop full bore against a guy who is in foul trouble. But it’s legal.
Reasonable explanations abound, but nobody wants to hear them if they’re rooting for the other team.
I call this the “Duke Syndrome,” so named because every time the Blue Devils are in the NCAA tournament I’m convinced they get all the close calls.
I’m sure Mike Krzyzewski is a good guy who runs a clean program. But it gets sickening to see Duke collect favorable calls the way a numismatic collects coins.
And I’m just as sure it galls fans whose hearts have just been ripped out of their chests to see GOAT-face Brady’s mug on the big screen after he’s just beaten their teams like a drum. Just like I grew to despise Derek Jeter’s face prior to 2004.
But cheer up, folks. It’s going to end eventually. Brady can’t eat leaves and stay young forever. Bill Belichick will wither and die. Age is charitable to no one.
But until it does, do what I have always grudgingly done: Give credit where credit is due. You may be witnessing the last old-style sports dynasty. They don’t exist anymore in any other sport, and once the Patriots fade away, there will never be anything like them again.
