DATELINE: Game’s Afoot
Friends in High Places
We are not sure whether the Patriots have been locked in the Steelers’ Cage, or whether the Steelers have been lit up in the Patriots’ North Church Steeple.
The proof is in the pudding, as we are wont to say to reach the masses.
Cliches abound in the championship game where the Killer Bs are allegedly in Pittsburgh, though Boston sees them as Betts, Bogaerts, and Bradley on the Red Sox.
Will the Patriots continue their turnover ways from last week? Or shall they turn over a new leaf?
We shall not compare the Patriots juggernaut to the infamous Women’s Marches across the globe on Saturday. It would be like putting the Trump supporters before the old gray mares.
Suffice it to say: the Trump Patriots are as polarizing as the new President’s administration. We would merely point out that numbers need not be indicative of victory. You need to know what state to put your money, not your mouth.
In the case of the NFL, you have to know when to put your locker room on Live Facebook, or when to tweet your “FaceChat with your InstaBook,” in the immortal words of Bill Belichick.
We are not sure how to interpret Roger Goodell’s absence at the game. He will not have to hand a trophy over to the Patriots as AFC champs, but nor will he have the satisfaction of gloating in public over a Pittsburgh victory.
For months we have heard of the Brady Vendetta—a slaughter of NFL pretensions week after week. Now we have the Steeler Bird Flu, an air borne virus sent by the gods to curse any who dare to oppose Tom Brady.
In the words of Sherlock Holmes, “The Game’s Afoot.”