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Super Bowl

Super Bowl

The Super Bowl is over and I’m not nearly as happy as I was last year when my beloved Philadelphia Eagles won the whole enchilada and accepted the Vince Lombardi trophy as choruses of boos rained down on NFL Commissioner, Roger Goodell. This year I was glad that my other fave team, the L.A. Rams, were in it. FYI, I don’t mean “in it” as though they played well, I mean,” in it,” as though they happened to be in the building. The Patriots won, 13-3, in what is the most boring thing I’ve ever seen on television … if you don’t count the halftime show, starring Adam Levine and Maroon 5. (I hope they get marooned on an island before next year’s Super Bowl, so I don’t have to watch them again.)

 

Even worse than the fact that The Rams lost was the fact that I watched them lose at the home of a Patriots’ fan … which is about as much fun as having a Passover Seder at Mel Gibson’s house.

 

I hate the Patriots the same way normal people do. And by “normal people” I mean everyone in the country outside of Boston. (The Cowboys used to be more odious than the Patriots, but since the Cowboys don’t win shit anymore, they’re far less offensive than the Pats.)

 

How do I hate the Patriots? Let me count the ways. First off, let’s start with the coach, Bill Belichick. Yes, he’s a brilliant coach, maybe the best ever. But being both a brilliant coach and total asshole are not mutually exclusive.  It’s not just Belichick’s arrogance or smugness or scowling that drive me crazy, it’s his wardrobe. – I’m not style-shaming, but I seem to be genetically programmed to judge a person for what the wear. It takes a lot for me to get past that to find out if they might be a good person (i.e., Mother Teresa. On first glance unimpressed. Faded stripes and ill-fitting hat. But once I got to know her, WOW! What a woman.) So, I say to Bill Belichick, “lose the hoodie! You’re a sixty-six year -old man, not a teenager. And what made you think that cutting the sleeves off would make it look better. You honestly can’t tell me that you looked in the mirror and said, ‘Sweet! Lookin’ good today, Bill. Ready to take on the world?’”

 

I’m also over the Gronk, and his dancing and his Neanderthalness. I feel like he’s constantly auditioning for the touring company of Dancing with the Stars. And, unless you’re a drunken co-ed on spring break, knuckle-dragging isn’t considered cute.

 

I’m even bored with the game’s MVP, Julian Edelman, and his homeless guy beard, and his little-man-in-your-face bravado, and his underneath patterns, which he runs because he doesn’t have the speed to go deep. I can cut Julian some slack though, because of his Jewish Hall-of-Fame bona fides … not something a lot of athletes have. (see my entry. “Jews in Sports”)


And then there’s Tom Brady, the cheater. He of the deflated balls. Tom Brady is movie star handsome, the best QB ever, has a million- dollar smile, a gazillion dollar bank account and a supermodel wife.

I can only pray that he suffers the heartbreak of psoriasis, restless leg syndrome, and has sold his soul to the devil and in the afterlife, he have to spend eternity playing back up to Peyton Manning.

 

So, in closing: no question – Yes, Belichick & Brady’s Patriots are the best team ever. And yes, I’ll miss them when they’re gone. But I’ll be happy to be missing them … soon.

 

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