Bradenfreude

Although all the facts are not yet in, the Patriots season looks like it may have taken a turn for the worse. You know, the sort of turn for the worse the Titanic took when it ran into that iceberg. As everyone knows by now, the best quarterback in the NFL went down in an ugly play in which his knee looked like it was bent all sorts of ugly ways. Rumors have been flying fast and furious, with most people saying he’s out for the season. A few have held out hope, saying it’s only speculation and he’s really only out for 4-6 weeks. With the Patriots’ notorious lack of openness about injuries, we probably won’t know the whole story until at least Wednesday. It also wouldn’t surprise anyone if Brady was listed as “Questionable” for the rest of the season, no matter what happens.

Of course, the douche bags are out in force, celebrating the injury as an act of God. Finally, something bad happened to the Patriots. It’s really sad to watch a group of ostensibly mature people gloating about a potentially horriffic knee injury like, you know, their team actually beat the Patriots. We’ve gotten to the point now, apparently, where the Pats are so good that other teams’ fans have to resort to rooting for injuries. We are T-minus one day to the inevitable Greggggg Easterbrook* TMQ where he praises Bernard Pollard for liberating the poor NFL from the tyranny of Bill Belichick. Or maybe how it’s divine retribution for Spygate, or how Brady is simply getting payback for saying God doesn’t care about football. Or, who knows, because Bob Kraft is a Jew.
* It’s amazing how fast Gregg Easterbrook went from being the most insightful and clever football analyst at ESPN to an unreadable hack who makes Woody Paige look like Grantland Rice. At one point, Easterbrook used to write interesting ideas about punting and play calling without openly rooting for one team over another. I never really went for his goofy “calling teams by wacky names” schtick, but hey, everyone needs a gimmck. Then he started to believe he was much smarter than everyone who was writing about football. All of a sudden, his columns were laced with ungodly amounts of smarminess and self-love. All of a sudden, the man they call Gregg was the arbiter of football morality. His series of columns about the Patriots have been so full of moral outrage and unfounded speculation, he could have been writing for the Focus on the Family newsletter. Plus, there’s nothing sadder than a football columnist snootily blasting NASA scientists about something like Dark Matter and Dark Energy. And don’t even get me started on his absurd need to insert his Christianist prostletyzing into every column. Football column. He writes about football. I hate him.

People always bash Boston sports fans, but I’ve never heard any of us praying for Derek Jeter to snap his knee ligaments, or hope that every time Peyton Manning got sacked it was the end of his career. Bill Polian, in the press box when the Colts first beat the Pats a few years back, actually yelled “Break his legs!” when Doug Flutie was scrambling out of the pocket late in the blowout. That’s right, the owner of a professional football team wanted to break the legs of the 41 year old back-up quarterback and father of an autistic child in a regular season blowout that his team was winning.

It takes a special kind of person to openly cheer for injuries. Football is a violent sport and it brings out the worst in otherwise rational people. I wonder how these jerks would react if they got injured in a car accident during their commute and Tom Brady showed up at the hospital to make fun of them. And if you think that isn’t fair, ask yourself how you could let yourself be consumed with hatred over a game to the point where you actually wanted the other team’s guys to be seriously harmed. Then kick back and light up a joint, because you need to chill.

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