The Balance of All Things

Judgment Day came and went. And mine eyes have seen the glory of the Lord.

Thank you God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful, for righting the wrongs, for leading my skeptic sight to the gridiron and the light.

I had sinned. Well, I hadn't really sinned myself, but was guilty by association. You see, I am a fan of the New York Jets. In week 1 of this NFL season, a season that would be largely meaningless for my team, we played the New England Patriots. We lost, but of course it from that game that Spygate arose. Eric Mangini lifted his hand and pointed at his former mentor, and Belicheat and Brady's reputation was tarnished. That's no dynasty, us NFL fans shouted, that's a fraud. And that made Belicheat and the Golden Boy angry. How dare they, they seethed late at night in the Patriot Cave, deep underground, around a fire where they boiled their witches brew. We'll show them, they swore.

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What they brewed was a storm of destruction like nothing ever before seen. They had no mercy. They beat the crap out of teams for fun. Having sold their souls to the devil, they rained his fury down upon their opponents. Their offense was like something out of Madden. What have we done, I thought as I trembled in fear. How could we have released this beast?

But the cracks in the armor began to show. A narrow win over the then-unbeaten Colts was hailed as proof of their dominance, but showed that they were vulnerable. Later came a narrower escape against the Eagles, and a narrower still Houdini-like escape against the Ravens. That team in purple and black did just about everything they could possibly do to let Belicheat win, I thought to myself angrily in the closing moments of that game. Something unnatural was afoot, and I was afraid that it was partially my fault. I was jaded, I was cynical, and I had lost all faith in the hope that anyone could stop our rivals before they had conquered us all.

Win number 16 sparked big debate across the country, but especially in NY/NJ: with the Giants having already locked up a playoff spot, should they rest their starters, or go all out to try to beat the Patriots? As it turned out, the G-men went all out and played a hell of a game. While the performance was encouraging, one had to wonder going into the Super Bowl whether this would lull the Giants into complacency for the game that really mattered. And surely, having seen the Giants at their best once, Belicheat and his staff would be prepared to destroy the Giants in round 2. Right?

The playoffs continued to reveal the holes in the Patriot armor, but their less than impressive performances against the Jaguars and a seriously undermanned Chargers team were still wins, and so it was perfection in their record that people focused on rather than the imperfections in their play. But Tom Coughlin (?!) and Eli Manning (?!?) found those imperfections and exploited them.

The result was as much of a beating as 17-14 has ever been. I mean this in a literal sense: the Giants' defensive front pounded Tom Brady into the ground time and time again. Eli and the attack had trouble capitalizing, but at least the Giants' possessions ate up significant clock time. This combined with the Patriot O-line being being about as resilient as a scoop of ice cream at noon in Nairobi prevented the Patriot offense from ever establishing any rhythm. It wasn't, as Bill Simmons tries to claim, a matter of the Patriots not playing they way they had all season tactically - they weren't allowed to. The Giants outplayed them. Of course, the late Patriot scoring drive was inevitable, but it wasn't enough. Not on a day when divine retribution triumphed, as Eli, on 3rd and 5 from his own 44 with 1:15 left, somehow wriggled out of a certain sack and launched a prayer to David Tyree, who somehow caught the ball... with his helmet. WITH HIS HELMET!!!


(By the way, this is one of the worst calls ever. Joe Buck will forever be remembered for failing to dramatize one of the greatest plays in Super Bowl history. He sounds disappointed at a moment where the rest of the nation screamed in wonder. Screw you, Joe Buck, for failing to properly immortalize the audio portion of this moment.)

With this play, everything changed. When it was all over (or almost all over, Belicheat - hah!) and the dust of the heavens settled, I saw the world in a new light. My burden had been lifted. There was order in the universe. There truly was a God, and he had worked in his own mysterious way to provide Belicheat with as painful a moment as possible as retribution for HIS sins. It wasn't my fault that my team's coach accused him of cheating - it was his fault for cheating in the first place! I was saved.

AND BELICHEAT LOST! YOU LOSER, YOU JERK, YOU CHEATER, YOU LOST! YOU COULD HAVE EVEN KICKED A FIELD GOAL TO COVER THE DIFFERENCE BUT YOU DIDN'T BECAUSE YOU'RE A LOSER WHO LOST LOST LOST!

Final note: There is only one bad thing about the Patriots losing, and that's Mercury Morris and the rest of the '72 Dolphins having one more champagne party to celebrate their undefeated season still being the only one ever. Mercury, you need to shut up. You think you're the greatest thing since sliced anything, but you're really just an arrogant prick. Your Fins played the third easiest schedule in the ENTIRE MODERN HISTORY of the NFL. You didn't play a single team with a winning record all through the regular season. Congrats on your undefeated season, and I hope you find some other raison d'être before you die, but even a Patriots hater has to admit that this Patriot team would have murdered your boys.