Welp, that sucked.

(Photo from Boston.com)

Sometimes, there just isn’t that much more to say. Seems to be one step forward, one step back with Mr. Cassel as the wheels came off that one rather quickly yesterday. It was deadlocked at 10-10 and then, all of a sudden, blowout, no thanks to the lack of ball control on Young Matthew’s part.

Guess it just isn’t our year, folks. Not that I’m throwing in the towel, mind you, but at best it’s an uphill climb for our Patriots and all in the know certainly thought the road to the playoffs went through Pittsburgh. And I’m bizarrely calm about it. Bizarrely. In fact, Sebastian – noted Steelers fanatic – and I had a completely civil conversation yesterday during the game about all manner of things. Not once did I swear at him, vow vengeance and fury on his football team or threaten destruction to Pittsburgh and it’s environs. He seemed confused. But I do believe that Bernard Pollard partially lobotomized me in Week 1 and I’ve been operating under the tableau of managed expectations ever since. Either that, or I’ve lost my will to live. One or the other.

I was, however, incredibly grateful to see Our Football Baby Jesus Tom Brady, front and center on the Globe front page on Thursday, dishing out turkey and all the fixins’ at a shelter in West Roxbury, supermodel girlfriend in tow. Not only is that incredibly generous and exactly what people with that level of visibility should be doing with their time if given the chance, but it was also nice for us to see Sir Tom and to realize that, you know, he is still alive and will come back to us shortly. Lest we forget. Plus, after last week’s trouncing of Miami and Young Matthew’s 400+ yards, he might’ve been feeling a little forgotten and under-appreciated. Never, Thomas. Never you fear.

I cannot believe it’s already coming up on Week 14 as it really does feel like this season just started, but considering the circumstances, perhaps it’s for the best. I suppose at this point all we can do is hope Randall Gene (Chrissy’s full name for Randy Moss when he starts acting out), feels acrobatic, fixes his current and troubling case of the dropsies and that Wes Welker is not too shaken up. And delight in the grown up, big boy things Young Matthew occasionally does.

In the meantime? Bruins, y’all. For serious.


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