Monday, January 22, 2007

There is no joy in Mudville (or Wrentham)

All through the real New England, not the picture post card one of quiet ponds, sandy beaches, and picturesque main streets, but the one of a seemingly endless array of Dunkin'Donuts franchises with foggy windows and all Portuguese-American employees, three tenement houses with backyards the size of postage stamps, piss ugly strip malls overflowing with fetid fast food emporiums, Asian buffets and discount box stores; all through that New England, hearts are heavy, stomachs are churning and heads are pounding under a clammy alcoholic haze--The Pats choked and the perennial chokers the Colts brought it home. From a substantial half time lead to a tiny 3 point lead with 2:17 left the game shoulda, coulda been in the veteran hands of the Patriots who somehow, just COULDN'T"T CLOSE THE DEAL. It's simple, no excuses, no bemoaning the absence of Rodney Harrison or fixating on some ref's call, when the air finally escaped from that fugly dome Coach Hoodychek had found no magic, Tommy Sawyer Brady didn't do his Joe Montana imitation, and Teddy Bear Bruschi's boys couldn't hold 'em one last time, so Pasty Peyton and Nice Guy Dungy are movin' on, and working class New England (of all Boston sports franchises, The Pat's are easily the most blue collar)is stuck with settling for another medium regular and a soggy jelly stick.As Dan Shaughnessy reports in this morning's Globe, Red Sox pitchers and catchers report February 16th my pallies.

3 comments:

mdoggie said...

My condolences. After getting an hysterical, cardio-pulmonary-alert phone call from Deanna's Dad in the wake of the Bears victory, I casually watched the Pats-Colts game. I had the picture on with no sound for the first half and gradually lost interest. I returned to check on what I assumed was a foregone conclusion and watched the final few minutes in rapt horror. I feel your pain.

skylolo99 said...

People in Boston don't seem to be mentioning the game. There's heavy meloncholy in the air. We now face the winter the way we face the autumn when the sox go down for the count. Here come the doldrums. Oh for the 1970 Bruins or '86 Celtics. Where have you gone Pie McKenzie?
Come on pitchers, come on catchers, come on girls in your short short skirts...Come on springtime, come on summer, come on girls in your tank top shirts...
friggin winter....

lambgiuse said...

I noticed no coverage of the two botched passes to that receiver with the bug eyed look both times it happened. Allot better than the shit that usually gets thrown by true New England sports fans toward a guy with the wrong hands (but in the right place). We've come a long way since Buckner Bashing (I hope).