Super Bowl Patriots: A New Dynasty?
It is almost as if they are the anti-Red Sox, these Patriots from New England . Led by their matinee idol quarterback with the Joe Montana bearing, and relying on their indomitable defense, opportunistic special teams, and guru-stocked coaching staff, the Patriots took out the upstart (but very game) Carolina Panthers 32-29 in a Super Bowl destined simultaneously to go down as an instant classic in the realms of sport and smut.
To be honest, in this day and age, a singular bared breast is a bout as titillating as a missed extra point, but the self-proclaimed guardians of morality have to put on their poses, even while they wish there was a new sequel to the supermodels mud wrestling over whether Miller Lite tastes great or is less filling. Hopefully, however, this crisis du boob will fall into pop culture obsolescence leaving us with the aftertaste of what will have to go down as one of the greatest Super Bowls of all time.
Super Bowl XXXVIII (say that ten times fast; no wonder the Roman Empire crumbled) started with a defensive slugfest (those who claimed the first 26 minutes of the game to be dull are exactly the lackwits for whom the XFL was intended – though He Hate Me's revival has to be among the most heartwarming tales of this new year) that turned into a pyrotechnic display of dueling offenses. Hearthrob Tom Brady time and again matched the exploits of Jake Delhomme, a Cajun with all of the cache (and gravitas ) of Bobby Boucher of Waterboy fame prior to the playoffs. The defensive genius of Bill Belichick and John Fox gave way to the offensive genius of, well, Bill Belichick and John Fox, and of course their respective staffs. When Ricky Proehl caught the touchdown pass to put Carolina into a 29-29 tie, things seemed eerie, as it was Proehl's catch in Super Bowl XXXVI that tied the Rams and the Patriots, setting the stage for Adam Vinatieri's exploits. And wouldn't you know – once again after Proehl's game-tying grab, Tom Brady marched the Patriots down the field with little time remaining, and the game came down to Vinatieri's now venerated right foot.
There are those who do not think of kickers as football players. Garo Yepremian in Super Bowl VII probably sealed that deal with his ill-fated pass attempt after a botched snap brought him into the annals of Super Bowl infamy even as the Dolphins went on to cap the only unbeaten season in the Super Bowl era. But Adam Vinatieri is different. When he was a rookie he chased down the great Herschel Walker to save a touchdown on a kickoff return. From that point on he had the respect of his teammates. His 2002 Super Bowl kick topped as clutch a run as any athlete has ever had. And here he was, 8 seconds to go in Super Bowl XXXVIII, 41 yards away. Those of us who are Patriots fans could feel confident. Adam does not miss clutch kicks. And he did not. As soon as he hit the ball, he knew it was good. It would have sailed through from 57 yards. After a final kickoff (He Hate Me? They Tackle Him) the Patriots were once again champions of the National Football League.
Sports championships, however glorious, are also temporal inasmuch as almost immediately thoughts of every team but one turn to next year. But as temporal as they are, championships also belong to history. How will history assess these Patriots?
The author's clear and present bias notwithstanding, a good case can be made for this Patriots team and its place in the annals of the game. We no longer live in an age when teams are likely to run off three Super Bowls in four years, as did the Dallas Cowboys from 1993-1996, or four Super Bowls in six years as did the 1970s Steelers. Free agency and the burdens of the salary cap mean that it is nearly impossible to keep even the nucleus of a championship team together for long stretches of time. Within that context, these Patriots seem to be well on their way to building a dynasty for the new century. They have won two Super Bowls in three years. They have salary cap room for next year and four draft choices in the first two rounds of April's draft. They have Belichick under contract, and due to the onerous (if for Pats fans fortuitous) tampering rules in the NFL they also have their two coordinators, Romeo Crennel and Charlie Weis, on board as well. Tom Brady looks set to be the face of the Patriots for a long while. (I remember when that tough hombre Steve Grogan, wearing his “Pat Patriot” getting-ready-to-hike-the-football logo was the face of the Patriots. We live in a different world indeed.) They have the best defense in football (time out for a rant – why is it that the “total defense” statistic ranks teams by yards given up? The point, as far as I know, is still to score more points and give up fewer than the other team. This isn't figure skating – there are no style points here, folks.) And, oh yeah, they have Adam Vinatieri.
But that's the future. What about the past? At first glance, this seems like an underwhelming Patriots team. They rarely destroyed opponents. Good as the defense was, it did not inspire fear along the lines of the 1985-1986 Bears. The offense, while functional and efficient, did not run roughshod over defenses as did, say, the Smith-Aikman-Irvin Cowboys. And yet that said, as if taking a page from the Al Davis playbook, they just won, baby. They won fifteen in a row, in fact, a number matched only by the aforementioned Dolphins of 1972-1973. And in that run, the Patriots went 8-0 against teams with 10 wins or more, and the winning percentage of their opponents approached .600. The 1972 Dolphins? Their opponents had an aggregate winning percentage well less than .500. Further, only ten teams have won as many as two Super Bowls. (And only nine franchises have even been to four.) In sum, the Patriots have built up a program not only worthy of respect this year, but one worthy of respect in the context of history. They have won two of the greatest Super Bowls ever played, they look poised to continue to be a factor, and no team in any sport plays better when the game is on the line.
Yes, for now anyway, they are the anti-Red Sox. But pitchers and catchers report in 16 days as of this writing. This is the year the Sox are going to do it. But if in some cruel twist of fate they do not, those of us in Red Sox Nation can look to the Pats and know that somewhere, Pat Patriot is smiling. Greatness, historic greatness, resides with a once-maligned football team that plays its home games down in Foxboro.