Yeah, I know, I know. I counted my chickens before they were hatched.
I watched the Atlanta Falcons slap the New England Patriots around for three quarters of football. I watched Matt Ryan and Julio Jones and the rest of the team treat Tom Brady like he was Marcia Brady catching a football. #owmynose
And I thought … maybe this is the time. Maybe this is the day that Brady and the Patriots get that big Super Bowl defeat. The same one Peyton Manning had a few years ago, where he played like someone chained his ankles together.
And then the Patriots rattled off 25 unanswered points.
And then it went into overtime.
And then the Patriots captain called the correct coin flip.
And the Atlanta offense never saw the football again.
Urgh.
And the New England Patriots won their fifth Super Bowl in nine appearances.
Yes. I know. I still feel urgh about it.
Yep. The New England Patriots, home of Spygate and Deflategate and swapped-out radio signals on opponent headset communications devices and Tuck rules and convicts driving snowplows to clear paths for game-winning field goals … them. Another win.
And I woke up this morning, trying to figure out a way to not listen to my usual drive-time routine of sports talk radio. Or to find out how soon pitchers and catchers report to spring training. Or something along those lines.
I’m sure I’ll get over this. At some point in time.
Just not today.
I mean, I haven’t felt this bluch about a postseason football game since the day Tim Tebow threw the only halfway decent pass of his life in the contest now known as the “3:16 Game.” You know, the one where he threw a touchdown pass in the first possession of overtime to knock my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers out of the postseason. Ugh. I still get queasy thinking about that.
I know, I know. Sometimes the team you don’t want to win, wins. Sometimes the black hat survives the shootout at high noon.
It just happens, I guess.
So now it’s time to move forward. Reluctantly. Let the Patriots have their due. Let their fans celebrate the moment.
Because next year is coming. Another chance. Another try.
And this Steelers fan is waiting for next year.
Because at some point in time, the Patriots have to come to Heinz Field next year to get their collective tuchus kicked up and down the gridiron by my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers.
Celebrate while you can, Brady and Belechick and all you other Pats fans…
Because next year, mark my words, save this in your Google calendar…
The winner of Super Bowl 52 will wrap that Lombardi trophy in a Terrible Towel for the SEVENTH time.
So it shall be written.
So it shall be done.
Chuck The Writer 
Rooting for the Patriots is like rooting for the Yankees in the 1950s – lots of people will despise you.
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#hatersgonnahate
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I don’t like the overtime rules for football. In my mind, 9 times out of 10, why bother playing overtime, just flip the coin and the winner of that wins the game. I feel they should play full quarters, like the NHL does, until one team is ahead at the end of the quarter.
I’m just ticked that from now on, he will be referred to as “Tom Brady, the greatest quarterback in history”. And he isn’t, IMO.
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No offense, Lilly, but I don’t think you’ve watched a hockey game in a while. Overtime in the NHL is now five minutes and it is played three on three. If no one scores then it goes to a shootout.
However in the playoffs only full 20 minute overtime periods are played. They are still sudden death.
I preferred hockey when a tie was a tie and each team was awarded one point.
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