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Our time has (finally) come!

February 04, 2002 ~ 11:44 p.m.

I am walking on air, or so it would seem. My footsteps don�t seem to come into contact with the ground. It is a happy day in the realm of nightdragons. For an event has occurred that was once thought to be as fictitious as the creature that provides my moniker.

The New England Patriots won the Super Bowl.

Not only did the hometown pigskin gladiators win, not only did they crash the house party in New Orleans that was assumed to be firmly in control of the St. Louis Rams, but they scripted a drama far more tense�and entertaining�than all of Shakespeare�s works combined. Last night, the Bay State scrimmage squadron gave us a night to remember�and as for their first-ever championship, it�s one that won�t be so easily glossed over in the annals of sports history.

At first, the game was a one-sided affair that had Patriots fans about to burst with a mixture of it�s-too-good-to-be-true disbelief and unadulterated joy. New England came out firing on all cylinders, displaying an aggressive offense responsible for two touchdowns, combined with a rock-solid defense that allowed St. Louis a mere field goal. By halftime, the score was a respectable 10-3. In the third quarter, they increased the lead to 17-3.

By this stage, I was ecstatic. The Super Bowl trophy was New England�s to cherish, and St. Louis� to covet. There was no doubt about it. These guys were going to do it. Why even play the next quarter? What was the use? The Patriots had come far enough, and now was the time to end this thing and put the Rams out of their misery. Take the trophy and run.

The end of the story, however, is far different, and makes for much tastier fiction. It�s even more delectable considering that the final result was real life, occurring in real time, for all to see.

The fourth quarter proved a maxim that has been around for as long as professional sports: It ain�t over till it�s over. Early in the 4th, St. Louis crawled to within a touchdown at 17-10, and I thought, oh no! OK, so the win wouldn�t look as impressive, but it was still ours! Imagine my shock and chagrin when minutes later, the score was deadlocked at 17 all.

I was horrified, but my gloom was swallowed with the practiced ease of the dyed-in-the-wool Boston sports fan. We not only accept failure from our teams but expect it. We work ourselves into a frenzy when any of the hometown teams win a divisional title, of which they have plenty, but shrug our shoulders at the never-changing absence of final championship trophies, be it the Stanley Cup, the World Series, or indeed the Super Bowl. Only the Celtics have given Bostonians a reason to boast, but it�s been a generation since they last won. So, when I saw the score tied, I took a moment to sigh sadly, and then shrugged and said to myself, �Well, it was a good run, but it�s back to real life now.�

Not so fast, oh ye (Bostonian) of little faith! My sense of fatalism was about to be shattered, the Murphy�s Law of New England Sports to which I subscribed about to be disproved big-time.

With only two seconds left in regulation, kicker Adam Vinatieri�about whom the locals once grumbled over their Sam Adams brewskies, �that bum can�t kick for shit, get rid of him!��launched a field goal that arched through the middle of the goalpost in a parabolic trajectory so perfect, you could be excused for thinking that God Himself had guided that ball through the air. That was worth three points, good for a 20-17 victory�and a championship that�ll last in the hearts and minds of New Englanders as long as there is a New England for them to call home.

The weirdest part of all, for me personally, is that I didn�t actually get to witness this at all. You see, at the time that magic moment occurred, I was working the night shift on an otherwise normal early British morning. I kept score by periodically refreshing the Yahoo sports page. The fact that I saw not even the slightest bit of action while history was being made leaves me feeling as if I�m throwing a second-hand celebration. Checking the score on the internet is not adequate compensation for missing live game action. But then, the brief coverage I saw on the 12 o�clock news earlier today satisfied me the way a long sip of water on a hot day does�I could always drink more, but what sustenance I do get will get me by. I saw the touchdowns and I saw the crucial field goal, after the fact, albeit. I�ll survive.

The fact remains: After more than forty years of routine cellar-dweller standings, of being the Los Angeles Clippers or the Tampa Bay Devil Rays of the NFL, in short, of providing betters and game predictions with a perennial underdog, the Pats rose above all that sordid history�exorcising the demons of �86 and �97�to take the biggest trophy of them all. In so doing, they lifted the hearts and brightened the minds of the long-suffering New England sports fan. This one was a long time in coming.

So, thank you, guys. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.

� M.E.M.

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Copyright � 2001-2007 by M.E. Manning. All material is written by me, unless explicitly stated otherwise by use of footnotes or bylines. Do not copy or redistribute without my permission.

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