The purgatory of a Patriots fan

None of us are transplants to the region; we didn't bring loyalties with us from elsewhere (except for Jackie, who grew up in Cleveland and remains a Browns fan first). In fact, the town we all grew up in, Milford, Mass., is perhaps half an hour's drive from Foxboro Stadium. We're fans of other teams first because when you're a football fan in New England you have to be. Otherwise, most seasons get depressing rather quickly, and there's almost never anything to get excited about in January.

The Patriots aren't the Red Sox. They wish they were the Red Sox. Because they're worse than the Red Sox. The Sox break your heart at least two out of every three years. The Pats only do it once in a blue moon, and then they do it more abruptly. And the silver lining to heartbreak, as everyone knows, is that you at least get to fall in love for a while first.

That moment is usually too fleeting with the Pats. So unlike the Sox, when the Patriots do have one of their moments, the affair develops more slowly. There's more reluctance to start the romance. And thanks to history, there's a lot less romance to the romance. That doesn't stop the bandwagon from loading up when the Pats do get going, though.

In a season like this one, the bandwagon starts loading up early. Many were already on board by mid-November, when the Patriots lost 24-17 to the powerhouse St. Louis Rams in Foxboro. For every one of us who was sure that game marked the beginning of the end for Tom Brady and the Pats, there were two or three praising the team for keeping it close and predicting (accurately, as it turned out) that the Pats would win out. Some were even talking crazy talk about a division title, though none were so bold as to so much as whisper Super Bowl.

By the time Week 15 rolled around and the Pats beat the Miami Dolphins before heading into a bye, it was clear that the annual heartbreak was going to be delayed at least until mid-January. Just about everyone in New England had made the transformation (except for those of us whose primary teams were still in the hunt). Everyone was riding the Pats bandwagon. But, as usual, the middle of the wagon was fairly empty; everyone was riding close to the edge, ready to jump off when the situation grew dim.

It didn't dim. And the bandwagon stayed loaded up.

But now it's Jan. 20 and things are looking mighty dim indeed. The Raiders appear to have got the best of the Pats, and fans are jumping from the bandwagon faster than the snowflakes are falling from the sky.

Then the fourth quarter comes and Brady drives the Pats down the field with a series of precision passes, and brings them within three points. Then he appears to be doing it again, only to be crushed by Charles Woodson and fumble the ball in Raiders territory with less than two minutes left.

"That's it," says Jack.

And Bill, on his feet, head on his chest: "OK, I'm leaving."

But, of course, the refs overturn the call. And Adam Vinatieri hits an impossible field goal to tie the game.

The Patriots win the coin toss in overtime and take the ball. But even as they line up for a Vinatieri chip shot that will win the game, no one is convinced quite yet. They expect things to go wrong for the Pats. They know they have to. They always do.

They don't. Vinatieri kicks it through the swirling snow and through the uprights. The Pats have won.

Bill bounds around the room with Jack's dog, who is excited by the excitement, jumping at his heels. Rob and Jackie attempt to persuade others in the room to pigpile on the lone Raiders fan. Jack looks at me and says, without a hint of irony, "I told you the Raiders couldn't win."

He celebrates with the others for a few minutes, then turns back to me. "So who are you gonna root for next week?"

"The Patriots," I say.

"Aren't you mad?"

"I'm mad that the Raiders lost. I'm mad about the call. I'm not mad at the Pats."

"You think they'll win?"

"Not if they have to go to Pittsburgh."

"But you're gonna root for them?"

"Of course I'm gonna root for them."

Bill chimes in, "They're going to the Super Bowl."

"Twenty minutes ago, you thought their season was over," I remind him.

"Yeah," he says, "but they won."

He's right, of course. They did win. And then they went into Pittsburgh and won again.

And that means that, for the moment, at least, the Pats are unstoppable. Until they get stopped.

That's what it means to be a Patriots fan. And now I'm on the bandwagon too. I'm riding it all the way to New Orleans, where I'm sure I'm going to get my heart broken.

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