A Beautiful Day (?)

"You miss too much these days if you stop to think"- from Until the End of the World

"It was a beautiful day, don't let it get away" - from Beautiful Day

Should we despair and be alarmed at the current state of our leaders, our nation, our leaders and its place on the world stage on this most American non-holiday holiday, Super Bowl Sunday?  Or should we look back at our past triumphs and know that the institutions that have served us well to date will prevail over the despotism and hatred that has invaded 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?

Good questions.  Well, although pessimism has crept into our household, our family has generally taken a positive attitude toward America's future.  I say that knowing that this optimistic attitude has been challenged over the last six months.  It has also been even more deeply threatened since Trump took office after his dreadful, dreary, pessimistic and fear-filled inauguration speech in January.  How does this relate to Super Sunday?  Unfortunately as a Bostonian, Boston sports fan, avowed Patriots fan and lifelong professional sports fan, my perspective, heritage and allegiance to team and sport have been severely challenged and the connections to my NFL passion and football past remain frayed at best.

My earliest and fondest sports memories  growing up in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Boston were of our Pop Warner football team and my connection with teammates and friends.  Twins Patrick and Peter Galvin, Donnie Johnson, Chris "Budsy" Walsh, Michael "Monkey" Norton, Paul "OB" O'Brien, Richie Miller among others were in it together.  We had each other's backs.  None of us came from much, some broken homes some stable and loving.  With football we relied on each other, and importantly, we also shared our private and undeclared wars on our more privileged suburban neighbors.  The game of football, replete with its full menu of bluster, violence, male ego, and camaraderie was our unifying experience.   We lived and loved it, won way more than we lost and had years of stories, friendships and laughs. We grew up playing the game we loved, most of us playing on in high school and some in college and then like most Boston males of my generation, we followed the Patriots. We watched and marveled at their ascent from laughingstock to legendary.  The question I ask on the day of Super Bowl LI, matching the number of years on this earth for me is,"Should I even be paying attention to the NFL and the Patriots any more?"

Is this a rhetorical question? No, I no longer think that is the case and I have begun plotting my trip down the sports continuum from fan(atical) to transactional (read: fantasy football) to social to oppositional.  Growing up in Boston, we always knew our sports and I was probably on par with the most knowledgeable about our Boston teams' history.  I loved the x's and o's, the athleticism, the athletes, the competition.  I loved being the Boston guy, not exactly the Boston Sports Guy Bill Simmons, but someone that knew what the hell was going on with all our four major sports, especially baseball and football.  Steve Grogan was my hero as a kid, the K-State quarterback that could run the bootleg better than any qb I've ever seen.  Tough as nails too.  Stanley (Steamer) Morgan, John Hannah, Leon Gray, Steve Nelson were just a few among a slew of '70s/80s Pats legends that captured my heart.

At the turn of the century, fate dropped Tom Brady on New England. He changed everything for Boston fans and has taken over the top dog spot in the town and then sports wold for the past 18 years.  I was a Bledsoe guy and a skeptic at first but that sure did change quickly.  Tom Terrific just did all the right things on the field and handled himself off the field and one could not help but be impressed.  A true role model that I could invest in and entrust to my children as a worthy model. Despite his recent affiliation to our current president, I still believe that he is a worthy role model (his qb qualities were never in doubt) but I find it far more difficult to connect emotionally to him.

Well, times change.  People change.  Perspectives change.  Regarding professional football, like my dad with his sports interest in the middle years of life, I've lost that loving feeling.  I never was a team-jersey wearing kind of fan, but I could tell you where all 22 starters went to college and felt sick on Monday after losses.  Unlike many of today's converted non-fans, my main issue is not with the big salaries or player egos as some love to decry. My issues are with the game and the damage it does to its players while the fat, rich, white privileged owners print money and get tax breaks to build stadiums.  Some even have the audacity to extort tax breaks and charge the fan for the right to buy a seat. What a joke.

There are lots of other problems with the NFL game (e.g. incessant commercials, game flow, game duration) but take for example the fact that players are meat and quickly become hurt and dispensable, as in a contract is not a contract.  You get hurt, you're cut. Look at great former players like Ted Johnson, Junior Seau, Leon Gray and Mike Webster to name just a few and then just as importantly role players Kevin Turner, Steve Gleason,  and Dave Duerson. They died too early, they died injured in the head and mostly penniless and they died in ways that they did not expect when they were getting hooked on Pop Warner football as I did. The owners have the power, the owners wield the power and the American sheep line up and pay to watch the carnage while the owners call the shots from their mansions and luxury suites.  Many of the players, like Seau and Duerson, struggle mightily with their head injuries but eventually succumb to the pain, take their own lives and then ask their family to study their brains to find out what went wrong.  Meanwhile, the NFL is fighting the truth, fighting its players for every last penny in court and refusing to admit to the problem and begin looking for real solutions.  Right. You can't have my dollars.

As this Super Sunday progresses, I am struggling to find the energy to root for my wonderfully successful Patriot troika of owner (Kraft), coach (Belichick) and quarterback (Brady) that support our unsavory and most unworthy POTUS.  My Boston blood, ( you know loyalty and all that Boston stuff)  keeps getting in the way though. Unlike most of my Boston brothers, I'm going to struggle to get truly excited for the game but I am going to watch New England's team and pull for the "good" guys to win. Whatever happens though, I'm not going to lose any sleep this Sunday night.