On Sunday, the Indianapolis Colts were shown exactly how far they'd come, and conversely, how far they had yet to go before they were real Super Bowl contenders. As the time-honored saying goes, " . . . and defense wins Championships."
The Colts have yet to establish one and the Patriots have perhaps about the best around. It is easy to see who the better team was in that game. The Patriots are winners.
And here's why: Very few, if any, are actually from New England.
If even half of the team hailed from the local area, the Patsies (as they'd be affectionately known by their whiney neighbors) would be 0-16 year after year, and would blame everybody but themselves for their failure. There would be no cohesion, no element of sportsmanship, no class, no grace, no anything positive.
Just like their current fans.
When the Denver Broncos showed up at the RCA Dome 3 weeks ago, the Colts gave them a punishing taste of revenge. Denver fans expected the same, but received something quite different. Many letters were received by the hometown paper here from Broncos fans commenting on how gracious and classy Colts fans were; the thrust was that we had the savvy to know that the revenge takes place on the field and that the stands are for cheering.
When the Colts went to Kansas City, it would have been easy for Chiefs fans to take their frustration out on the handful of Blue Faithful who made the trip. The reality of it was exactly the opposite. KC fans were sportsmanlike, welcoming and well-versed in both football lore and the art of hosting. Each team's fans wished us well and said they'd be rooting for us. All were true sportsmen - they all knew it was still only a game and that real people know what their lives' priorities are. BTW, the same can be said for Tennessee fans, but that's a different story.
SO. Now we go to Taxachusetts, the home of the Kennedys, Martha's Vinyard and Nantucket, from which a famous and talented if unnamed man once hailed. The home of surly attitudes and chronic self-loathing. Liberal, anti-American, shallow, snotty, rude, graceless, hateful and xenophobic Mass-of-chewed-shit.
Colts fans there were subject to verbal and sometimes physical abuse; snowballs and drink containers were constantly hurled at them along with continuous epithet and derogatory remark. Patriots fans were not content with simply cheering for their team, oh no. They evidently are of the kind of people for whom no victory is complete without the opportunity to take pleasure from the pain of others, and if there isn't sufficient pain to start with, then they'll just have to inflict some of their own. Their behavior was brutish and nasty. Most of them were not tall, either. A true Hobbesian crowd.
To call them blue-collar would be an insult to working folks anywhere west of the Berkshires. To call them rowdy would demean energetic exuberance. To call them loyal would undermine the essence of team spirit. In fact, Gillette Stadium was full of people (in that they were identifiably human-ish) whose sole commonality was that they were just bright enough to know that something called football was going on, and that meant a fresh crop of outsiders upon which to take out their frustration. The frustration of living in the one state that over 50% of Americans would kick out of the country if they had a chance, that is.
It's a good thing that very few of the actual teams' fans will get a shot at Super Bowl tickets. If 10 or 20 thousand Pats fans went down to Texas with the attitudes they have at home, it's more than likely that there'd be more than a few empty seats on the plane rides back. "Texas is a big place, boy. Easy to get lost in, y'know? Y'all might jus' wanna be clampin down on that there hole in yer face, less'n y'all wanna see fer yerself."
*Sigh*
If only. We could do with a little less dead weight in this country.
So, Pats fans. If you can read this, congratulations on the victory that the team that leases it's stadium space from your local multi-millionaire racked up last Sunday. Good thing for you that so few of 'em are natives.
Should you ever visit us, you will most likely go back home just as frustrated as you always have been with our friendliness and sportsmanship. Figuring out superior behavior has always been difficult; you know what they say about trying to teach a pig to sing: It wastes your time and pisses off the pig.
Which is why you're always so mad. Even when your collection of paid athletes wins, you still have to live there. They all get to go home.
