No, not the almost-loss at the hands of the overperforming but ultimately self-destructive Baltimore Ravens.
I speak of a deeper loss, a loss nearly thirty years in the making. I speak of a horror so unimaginable, I shudder to recount it, a loss which will haunt my dreams long after this thus-far perfect season has ended.
To wit I, the PatriotsExPatriot, finally had tickets to a Pats game. We were playing the Ravens, in Baltimore, and I'd bought them in the summer, when the Ravens were supposed to be good. We're talking a couple of bills a piece. Oh, and I went to the game alright. I presented my ticket. I walked up the ramp. I was at the game...
And then, after scoring tickets to a relatively "local" Patriots game for the first time since watching them play the Baltimore Colts, I walked down the ramp and out of the stadium without so much as taking my seat.
Because, dear reader, my blushing bride of four months, surrounded by hootin' hollerin' Ravens fans, suffered a panic attack.
A panic attack. A freaking panic attack. Thirty years I wait for this game, and she gets a panic attack.
But there she was, on the verge of tears and looking like a kid who had climbed the ladder to the high-dive without considering the unacceptable consequences, shivering in the blustery Baltimore wind, while right through the tunnel, past the rail, and maybe a couple hundred feet down, my New England Patriots prepared for kickoff. Not the kickoff for the game, mind you. The kickoff after the first field goal. I'd spent the entire opening drive trying to coax the love of my life up the ramps to our section.
What could I do? This wasn't a made-up drama-queen panic attack. She's not like that in general, and besides, I know the signs. This was a real life can't-cope-gotta-go-never-did-LSD-but-I'm-on-a-bad-trip panic attack.
And so, I parked her in the tunnel between ramp and seats, walked to the rail, got one good look at my beloved team from the rail, and, with a deep sigh, walked her back down the ramp.
We watched the remainder of the game at the James Joyce Pub, where we'd eaten dinner. And, I think to my credit, I have not yet made any serious inquiries about divorce proceedings.
Moving right along, here are some things about the game its ownself, speaking as someone who was there, man:
* Uh, we're still 12-0, so take any of my amateur musings for what they're worth, that is, not much as compared to the finest coach in the history of the NFL.
* Laurence Maroney can run in space. He also won't attack a hole between the tackles unless you zap him with a cattle prod. I love LoMo, and I think the future's only going to get brighter for him, but he needs to learn one thing to truly excel in the NFL: footsteps to the left and right need to occur in the context of simultaneous forward lunges, with very, very few exceptions. You were on national TV, Laurence, but not Dancing With the Stars.
* But back to "Laurence Maroney can run in space": I say call intentional pass plays to him in addition to check-downs, and run a sweep or power pitch every now and again. Outside running is his strength. Between the tackles, not so much. Keep working at that. I am convinced he'll have an "Aha!" moment about downhill running, so don't abandon it. It'll feel so good for all of us once he gets to that place, but for now, at least play to his strengths a bit more often.
* Wind and cold are bad for pass-heavy attacks. With all the drops and bad throws, the Pats were held to the high 20s.
* Everybody will bring their A game every week against us.
* We will not necessarily bring our A game every week against them.
* "The Blueprint" we all heard about in the Iggles game works, sorta. I mean, if you call keeping a team to 27 points "working."
* The Defense. Oy. Here's the thing about playing defense in the NFL: You really have to tackle guys. I mean, you have to get them on the ground, not sort of hug them on their way by you. This is usually done by wrapping up a guy, if tackling in space, or getting lots of guys grabbing (preferably) the lower body, if tackling near the line. Stare at the guy's belly button. You can't fake with your belly button. Okay that's all the tips I picked up in Pop Warner ball, and granted, Willis McGahee didn't play in my Pop Warner league. But you guys are supposed to be good, for Christ's sake. So to sum up: Make people fall down more.
* Just as championship teams, even on off weeks, find a way to win, crappy teams, even in great weaks, find a way to lose. There's a reason for this. Great teams know they're good. If they get calls against them, they don't panic. If things don't go their way, they realize they need to overcome it. Even in extremis, they don't lose their shit. That's exactly what Baltimore did. And here's the underlying ethic that makes it that way: good teams are not allowed to lose their shit. Do you think you'll ever see Tedy Bruschi throw a ref's flag into the stands, with 44 seconds left -- still time to tie the game on a field goal? NO. He is not allowed to play without thinking. He has to be situationally aware. He will be held to a higher standard. If Bart Scott doesn't throw that flag into the stands, the Ravens are playing for the field goal. But he did, and they had to launch a couple of Hail Marys, and call it a day.
* Here is what Bart Scott was entitled to say to the media after this loss: Oh my fucking God. I am so so sorry, to my teammates, to my coach, to the City of Baltimore. My actions took away our last chance.
* Here is what Bart Scott did say... oh, never mind, actually. There's not room. Suffice it to say, everybody but the Ravens were responsible for the Ravens' loss.
* Compare and contrast: Have Belichick or any Pats players ever said they lost because of anything other than being outplayed or outcoached? This isn't about "class." This is about internal locus of control. The Patriots got actual BAD calls (and non-calls) in the Indy game, to the extent that I actually had one of those conspiracy theories running through my mind. I think I might have been right. I think the Pats still might have to beat the refs and the other team sometimes. Certainly, if there was ever such a game, it was this year's Indy game. But that's my observation as a fan. As a player: You do what you have to do to win. We did, against the Colts. Baltimore didn't... but Baltimore was ready with an excuse. That's how you build a culture of losing.
* I'd forgotten what a fun city Baltimore actually is. Washington's so stuffy by comparison, it's hardly even a real city. It's basically an org chart made out of buildings. When you go to Baltimore, you realize most of America's composed of real people... and that's refreshing.
Okay, that's all for now. It's Steelers week, and I've got to stock up on epithets.
For now, I'll just sign out with my nifty new signout,
PxP
