Monday, January 12, 2015

Confessions of a Frazzled and Superstitious Patriots Fan


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Only now - on Monday morning - have I caught my breath;
Saturday the Patriots had me half scared to death.
Twice they trailed by 14 points and twice they battled back.
Once or twice I may have let my calm composure crack.

Maybe more than once or twice... I have been known to yell
When it looks as if the football game has gone to hell.
I don't worry that we'll lose, despite the uphill slope;
Belichick and Brady mean that there is always hope.

Don't know why I lose my mind; I know it's just a game
And I know it's impolite to call the ref a name.
Wish I had more self-restraint but, sadly, I do not.
Don't know how much more that I can take.  My nerves are shot.

(Hope this rhyme is not perceived by sports gods as a sin;
That they know I really do appreciate the win.
I don't want to make them angry; that would really suck
Next week when New England plays a quarterback named Luck.)

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