EDITORIAL. PHOTOS BY AP IMAGES
Take yourself back nine years.
The date is February 2, 2002. The place is the Louisiana Superdome.
Outside, it’s quiet. Warm. Damp. Humid.
Inside, it’s equally as quiet. Warmer. Damper. Sweatier. 73,000 fans collectively holding their breath as fabled kicker Adam Vinatieri lines up to cement his name in the NFL history books.
Kurt Warner meanwhile, sat on the bench, bloodied, looking on helplessly. Marshall Faulk sat there too, just as his quarterback, every bone in his body aching. Torry Holt and Isaac Bruce, there all the same, mimicking their general -- their quarterback -- who had been knocked around and smacked in the face more than those kids at the end of Step Brothers.
Seconds later, Vinatieri’s arms shot through the air like red and blue fireworks, igniting a Patriot celebration. They had toppled the Goliath. They had beaten the giant.
The Greatest Show on Turf however, was over. They had hit the wall, and were upset by a team that had no business being there, and no business winning. The most powerful team in the NFL -- the Super Bowl favorite -- a team that had all the marbles, all the cards, and all the tricks, had come up short.
It’s a tale as old as time. It’s a tragic storyline. And it’s also the way sports are.
Because nine years later, the Patriots are on that sideline. Wounded. Bullied. Beaten. And Braylon Edwards and the Jets are doing backflips on the field.
I’m not saying it’s a direct parallel, but it’s pretty damn close. One year you’re writing the history and ten years later you’re drowning in it, unable to get out of your own way. Three straight playoff losses will do that to you as a fan, and suddenly, you don’t feel so high and mighty anymore.
