A Froggy Night in Foxboro Town

DATELINE:  Foggy Bottoms Up

Michigan J. Frog foggy bottom

Cock-eyed optimists were dancing in the street over the return of the Super Bowl Patriots. Down-in-the-dumps pessimists were sent packing by the stalwart Patriot defense. Tom Brady emerged from the mist. If you can see through the fog, you may have X-ray vision.

The replay of the Super Bowl was exactly as billed. These were not the teams that had played just a few months ago. The Patriots were dominant, and the Falcons were pathetic. The Falcons clearly have post-traumatic stress from the Super Bowl.

If you thought you would be able to see the forest from the trees, you would’ve been blinded by what they call in London an old fashioned “pea-souper.”

Yes, the fog was on the pumpkin, not the frost. It came down from the heavens like something to cover up the antics of Jack the Ripper. Indeed, Belichick’s minions acted like razor-sharp purveyors of the slice-and-dice school of football. The Falcons looked like Tweety-Bird.

The fog was thicker than anything Heathcliff ever saw on the Moors.

How quickly professional sports shift. It’s like someone set off a seismic charge underneath the fan base. Resulting in a nebulous ceiling, a cloud of uncertainty not raised quite yet.

Have the Patriots been restored to their place of distinction? Or did we merely see another example of this team putting on the Ritz? Tell me in five weeks that the Pats are on top of the world.

Tune in next week when the announcers will not be surprised and misidentify natural phenomena as the smoke of fireworks that lingered for four quarters.

So much for expert analysis.

 

 

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