Sunday Night at Sergio's: Settling the Great Debate

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to watch a football game with me? Aw, who am I kidding, of course you have! Well you’re in luck my friend, because this past Sunday night my Patriots pulled off the biggest comeback in team history against none other than Peyton Manning and his Broncos. As it happens, I was able to watch the entirety of that game, and with my Broncos fanatic friend, no less. Unfortunately I had resolved not to tweet throughout this game, so we’ll only be able to get a few direct quotes from Twitter. We’ll just have to leave the rest to recollection.

So we arrived at my friend Sergio’s house (big Raiders fan, I’ve mentioned him before) for the big matchup. My other buddy, Chris, was chomping at the bit in anticipation of the game. He couldn’t wait to watch Peyton Manning tear up the hated Patriots and prove himself as the better quarterback of the generation. Now, you must understand that Chris is an extremely expressive person, so I had to strategize my approach to watching this game. I decided to go into Belicheck mode, which basically means containing any and all excitement or disappointment, criticizing only your own team’s mistakes, and praising all of your opponent’s good plays. This way, you can’t be knocked off your cloud when you blow a lead or be mocked later on for premature excitement in a failed comeback. It’s difficult, but such is the Patriot way.

As the Brady-Manning history montage played just before kickoff, the last stat noted was that Brady is the winning-est quarterback in NFL. “That’s right”, I said, and left it to linger in everyone’s minds. It soon became clear that the gusty New England winds would be a factor that night when someone had to hold the ball for Stephen Gostkowski’s kickoff. Shortly after, Peyton and his forehead (which requested to be mentioned separately in this blog) would produce a three-and-out drive, which gave me hope that our defense would show up for the game. As we began moving the ball—a short pass, a nice run—I stood up and pointed out a stiff arm that was given near the sideline. Rookie mistake. Only seconds later Stevan Ridley fumbled the ball and Von Miller took it 60 yards for Denver’s first touchdown. I yelled at Ridley about his fumbling issues a little bit, and even commented “hey, remember when AP used to fumble all the time?” Silence on that one. Tough crowd. “That’s okay,” I thought, “we’ll be fine on the next drive.

Well, two more fumbles and 17 points later, we had not recovered on that or any other drive, and now we were sitting in quite a hole. When LeGarrette Blount fumbled from a Duke Ihenacho hit (which, I admitted myself, was how a strong safety should hit) I began to openly question how many times we were planning to fumble that night. After a dry second half, highlighted only by a Jacob Tamme touchdown, I was expecting some last-minute trickery. The Patriots apparently tricked themselves, trying to run out the clock and then deciding they wanted to play for the points instead. There was confusion all around. As time expired, Brady threw one last heave, which was of course thwarted by the wind. Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie dove for the interception but barely missed the grab. As the camera stayed focused on DRC for a few more seconds, it was clear that he had hurt himself, and then quickly the shot changed. As the Patriots were heading into the locker room, I noticed something that was absolutely terrifying. Patriots fans were…booing. Right out in public. ON NATIONAL TELEVISION. Life ceased to hold meaning. Already disappointed, I realized that I had started Ridley on my fantasy team that Sunday, and then I sympathized with his feelings very much.

Halftime was a time for self-convincing. The NBC analysts mentioned the Patriots vs. 49ers game last season, where New England almost mounted an amazing comeback. I recalled that game vividly. I was sitting by myself late at night in Mazatlan, Mexico, telling myself over and over that we weren’t out of the game until it was over. That night we scored 28 unanswered points, ultimately scoring 34, but we came up just short. Anyway, I was reminding myself of that game as Chris spouted off on the couch across from me, naming every Broncos player he could (basically all of them, past and present) and talking about the greatness of Peyton Manning and John Elway, making sure that I knew how hungry Von Miller was. What did I say? What could I say? “Hey man, it’s not over until it’s over”.

As the third quarter began, all I could do was hope. We (yes, the Patriots and I, fans count too) were receiving the second half kickoff, so any comeback attempt could possibly start immediately. Seven plays later, this happened. 

In bewilderment Chris asked, and I quote, “How did you guys score so fast??” Humbly I replied, “That’s just what we do”. When Edelman celebrated his touchdown, I kept my seat and allowed myself only a fist pump. I was able to fist pump twice more during that third quarter as Brandon Bolden (of the two Patriots backs on my fantasy team, he’s not one of them) and Rob Gronkowski (starting for not one, but two of my teams) joined Julian in the end zone. After Bolden’s touchdown I may have yelled “At this point I don’t even care, just hold on to the ball!”, but that’s neither here nor there. In the process, I watched Dane Fletcher sustain our comeback with a forced fumble and rookie Logan Ryan take opportunity right out of Peyton Manning’s hands. (At that point I almost lost it, Peyton picked off by a rookie?! But no, I kept my composure).

At the end of the third quarter, Chris was thoroughly distressed. The score had gone from 24-0 to 24-21 after three unanswered New England touchdowns and at this point I wasn’t even gloating, I was just trying to talk him down from the ledge. “It’s okay man, we’re not even winning yet (the “yet” was obligatory, I had my expectations)” I felt like one of our high school football coaches weathering an emotional storm on Friday night. “Control your emotions, gentlemen. Don’t get too high, don’t get too low, just stay level and finish the game”. Apparently, nobody had ever told Chris. Meanwhile, Sergio had let his German shepherds into the house, which meant that Chris now had to watch the remainder of the game without bursting out emotionally. I was in heaven. Anyway, back to the football.

It wasn’t long into the fourth quarter until the Patriots were winning, as they took the lead on a 14 yard touchdown by who else but Julian Edelman. As he pivoted, sprinted, and then dove into the end zone, I was almost sure that Chris’ head would explode.  By this time I allowed myself a little more expression, so I probably shouted something to the effect of “LET’S GO!!” and said something to show how much I’d supported Edelman through the years. New England’s defense continued to make plays, and with 7:37 left in the game the Patriots extended their lead with a field goal, meaning they were ahead by a whole 7 points now. They had now scored 31 unanswered points on five straight scoring drives. It was glorious, to say the least. I prayed that we would win in regulation, overtime games stress me out and I had just attended one in person the night before, but it was not to be. Aqib Talib’s great coverage finally relented, and Demaryius Thomas scored a touchdown with three minutes left to tie the game. Maddeningly, our offense lost its rocket fuel and stifled just at the end. Overtime it was.

We won the toss, and Bill Belicheck’s strategy was so complicated that his captains had no idea what they were telling the ref at midfield. We kicked off, and the chess match began. Neither offense could generate momentum, so nobody moved the ball all too much. It looked as though the Broncos might mount a scoring drive, but on a crucial third down rookie linebacker Jamie Collins (who I did in fact read about for days after we drafted him) knocked the ball right out of Wes Welker’s hands before he could bring in the catch which would give the Broncos a first down. Now, this moment was very important to me personally, because ever since Welker chose the wrong team this summer, I was convinced that he would be the one to put the game out of our reach. That somehow on a 4^th and 16 play from the 25, he would score a touchdown and devastate Patriot fans everywhere. But no, once again Peyton was thwarted by a rookie defender. We were given the ball back with about three minutes left, and it seemed that this would be our now or never drive.  

Unfortunately, it turned out to be a never drive. As we got in position to punt the ball back to Denver, John Fox sent Wes Welker back to receive the punt. For a second I got the fear again, the feeling that Wes and only Wes could be the one to destroy us, but by now I knew that he wouldn’t. In fact, he botched the poison call and Tony Carter ran into the ball, muffed it, and had it recovered by the Patriots. Chris was livid, I thought he might hop a flight to Foxboro and choke out Carter himself. Three plays later, Stephen Gostkowski knocked the game-winning field goal through the uprights. I stood up, both fists high in the air. I told Chris I loved him, albeit through laughter, and tried not to rub it in. He wanted to leave, but had to finish the food that Sergio’s mom had served everyone. I tweeted a few shout outs to certain players, and even went as far as to say (direct quote) “I imagine my wedding night will feel something like this”. Too far? Too bad. After more conversation and listening to the NBC wrap-up of the game, I left Sergio’s house right after I did the LeBron stomp a few times. 

So let me ask this question one more time: How many times in the past few years have you doubted New England? Of those times, how often did you end up feeling foolish for doing so? On Monday I wore my Welker jersey, because he needed to know that I’m not afraid of him anymore. All thanks to another Sunday night at Sergio’s.