After reading Bill Simmons' magnanimous column this morning, we were began to feel vaguely sympathetic to Boston fans. (Though the biggest revelation from his column is that, had the Patriots won, Simmons had set up to hang out with Tom Brady in his private entourage party room afterwards. The Giants winning might have saved Simmons career; that column might have been the one that finally sent people over the edge.)
Anyway, we received this email from a diehard Patriots fan 30 minutes after the game last night:
I've drained eleven Miller Lites over the course of this debacle, and for some reason, I felt the need to email the editor of Deadspin. I have no idea how to attack this loss. I'm thrown off, definitely, and sad, but it has been a half hour, so my sadness has tapered off a little. What a beat. WHAT. A. BEAT. The worst part is, this team, this awesome team, will be forever remembered as chokers, rather than the team they are: a brilliant team that came within a minute of perfection. Though the fan base (though it is hard for me to swallow the fact that bandwagoners are considered the fan base, but what can I do) deserved the loss, it still... well, multiply the word "sting" by 50. That's the word I'm looking for. Well, I'll take my licks tomorrow, man, no matter how shitty it will end up being. Oddly, since I grew up rooting for these teams, I became accustomed to looks of pity after a loss like this. That's the thing Bill never mentions: since Boston(and New England) sucked for so long, we never developed a thick skin for criticism. We got used to everyone rooting for us, and when we inevitably lost, they shook their heads and said, "Some day, guys." That's why we are the way we are. We can't get used to being envied and hated, so we act like douches and lash back.
Again, sorry, pal. We don't deserve a lick of your sympathy. But, I wanted you to know we took the hit hard tonight... well, at least the diehards did.
Enjoy it while you can. Baseball season's coming soon.
Then, 10 minutes later:
What kills me more than this loss is the fact that half the people who are enjoying this (well deserved) win by the Giants are doing so because they hate the Pats fans, not the Pats. And that's because a lot of people who root for the team don't handle what I was talking about well. We were good at this once, man, I swear. We were small, and were tough, and we were diehards. Things just... grow, and there's nothing you can do. This team, as chippy as they are, were within three minutes of perfection. Three minutes. JEZUS, I can't even get that through my head.
Then, this morning:
The ironic side note to the fact that sports is the perfect form of escapism is that, when you want nothing to do with sports, there is no way you can escape them. I'd almost prefer to be surrounded by drunken diehard Giants fans right now than have to listen to everyone in my office, one by one, come to my desk and offer half-hearted condolences and recycle some reason for the loss they heard on the radio on the way in to work, when all they really want to know is if they hit a square last night.
We know that last one very well; the day after Illinois lost to North Carolina in the NCAA Championship Game, we left our old office at noon. We couldn't take a full day of that.