Win it for the hard-bitten (frostbitten?) Pats fans
By MICHELLE MILLER
Published February 1, 2004
What a difference a season makes.
Who'd have thought after this year's opener in September when the Buffalo Bills killed the New England Patriots that we'd be getting another go at the Super Bowl?
Things are looking quite a bit different now.
With the coaching masterminds of Bill Belichick, Romeo Crennel (defensive coordinator), and Charlie Weis (offensive coordinator), the best defensive line in the game behind the cool and collected unflustered quarterback, Tom Brady, we should get the big win today.
This is a team that's going for their 15th straight win for crying out loud. While the big media types like ESPN might be talking trash about how there's no Hall of Famers on our roster, the bottom line is our team is full of stars.
That's what you have to love about the Pats. There are no prima donnas, no one go-to guy. Every game there's someone else out there making the plays, whether it's Ty Law picking off Peyton Manning, linebackers Willie McGinest and Tedy Bruschi shutting down the opposing team or Adam Vinatieri just doing his job, kicking another field goal.
Impressed with my Patriot prowess?
Don't be.
The words above were more or less spoon-fed to me from one of those diehard and somewhat crazy Patriots fans, the kind who aren't afraid to brave the snow, sleet, hail and subzero temps to watch their Patriots ... WIN!
Even after 12 years of living in Florida, at heart I'm still a New Englander who considers the Pats the home team. But, while I have shown more than a passing interest this season, I have to confess that I am mostly a fair weather fan - in more ways than one. When it comes down to the Pats or a good beach day, I have been known to opt for the latter.
Jill Panaro, my friend and source for Patriot info, is a fan of a different sort - the crazy, serious and, yes, noble kind that Patriots owner Bob Kraft honored when he held up the AFC Championship trophy in Gillette Stadium two weeks ago.
And it's not just the Patriots she loves, it's the Celtics, the Bruins and the Red Sox. This past summer she even followed the Sox from Boston to Yankee Stadium, putting personal safety aside to sit in the bleachers in Section 39, where they don't sell beer. There, ardent Yankee regulars don homemade "Section 39" T-shirts and dis Sox lovers and the hometown fans sitting in the box seats with equal fervor.
For the Patriots, my friend was brave enough to go where we fair weather fans fear to tread. She was the happy beneficiary of tickets to home games against the Titans and the AFC championship against the Colts when some corporate season ticket holders wussed out because of the frigid temps.
While my friend took the art of layering to a level never seen here in the South, I watched those games nestled under my down comforter, (partly because it was about 60 here and partly because I was wicked cold by proxy) thinking, "Man, those fans are nuts."
With the Super Bowl being played in Houston, well, it seems my friend and I are on a more level playing field. We'll both be cheering for our Pats in the comfort of our own homes.
No big deal for me - it's the norm. But for Jill, well, she's in a bit of a quandary.
"I was soooo lucky to be able to attend those last two games (the Frozen Bowl at minus-25 degrees, and 18 degrees and snowing for the AFC championship game)," she wrote in a recent e-mail. "But it's going to feel weird watching the game in a nice warm house, in dry clothes, without seven pairs of pants on. Not having to listen to drunk guys complain that the beer taps are frozen and their bottles are, too, while I have to take my raw chapped hand out of my wet snow glove to get a tissue to wipe my very attractive dripping snot nose, all the while trying not to disrupt the child's size old school Pats helmet with the "not intended for contact play' sticker on the back, that's sitting on my sober head."
"So how are you going to handle couching it for this one?" I asked her on the phone the other night.
"Well, it won't be the same," she said. "I won't be able to see my breath and I'll be able to feel my toes. But I'll still be yelling and screaming, giving high fives."
And, she told me, she plans on painting her face in Pats team colors and wearing her "not intended for contact play" kid's size football helmet.
Okay, so maybe the playing field isn't all that level.
