The New England Patriots were on the second–largest stage in the history of American television in an effort to become the first team in NFL history to go 19–0, an undefeated regular and post–season. Only one team in NFL history went undefeated throughout the season, but that was in 1972, and they didn’t play against the kinds of teams the Patriots did this year.
Super Bowl XLII featured the first ever 18–0 team playing the underdog New York Giants. In the final game of the season, the Patriots defeated this team, so it was wasn’t a stretch to think they could do it again. If the odds–makers were correct, the game wouldn’t be close. But if my picture on this post is any indicator, things didn’t work out for them.
No, in historic fashion, the Patriots became only the third undefeated team to lose its first game in the championship, and the first in the Super Bowl era. While not the largest upset in Super Bowl history, it was certainly the sweetest. Sweetest for those of us who love to hate.
Schadenfreude is a German word that I’m starting to like more and more. The built–in text–to–speech in Mac OS X I use to preview posts pronounces it correctly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the blogosphere is going to get that included in most people’s lexicon. Entire social networks are built on the very back of feeling joy at the plight of others.
This is my relationship with Tom Brady. I posted my love of Tom Brady last year, and I thought it would be a good idea to remove such revelry at a person’s expense. But I didn’t.
The joy of the suffering of one person — or any people, really — is a bad thing. Yet, somehow, those pictures remain on Flickr. It became obvious to me because of these events that knowing something is wrong and doing something about it are two different things.
It isn’t that I didn’t know this before. In my over 30–years on this earth, life’s taught me a thing or two:
‘Don’t put your hand on the stove when it’s hot’
‘Politicians lie to get your vote’
‘Don’t set your sister on fire’
‘If you can’t say anything nice about somebody, hush it’
‘Use a rock to break a window, not your fist’ (this one really hurt)
‘Don’t print a book on a team going undefeated until they actually go undefeated’
Mixed messages there, to be sure. That’s why it bothers me that I’ve still got an altar set up to worship the defeat of something so meaningless. Sport is a peculiar thing, something so unifying, so captivating, and yet so trite. Sports deserve such little attention, yet garner so much.
I’m glad they lost — and this is not a good thing. Hatred of any man — no matter how he’s blessed beyond his right, and in something as inconsequential as a game like this — continues this hate cycle. I see now how the mortal man always needs some idea (at the very least) of a higher power, one that isn’t human like the frail creature that begs its favor.
This is the same philosophizing that leads us to elevate sports figures to their place in society. How many times do we describe what they do as super–human? It’s because we need them to fill the void in our own lives, the need for something better.
Some fill that void with love, some fill it with booze. My personal cocktail involves Jesus and copious amounts of carbohydrates, but many fill this hole in their being with envy. This simple Germanic word is made for people like that — some people live for schadenfreude.
That was some terrible Photoshop work on those ‘Brady Face’ pictures, wasn’t it? I think I spent about four or five minutes cutting and pasting the screencaps into place and uploading. To this day, I still have no idea what I was thinking, putting them on there.
Jealousy, I guess. Envy. Possibly greed? I have to fight against my baser instincts when trying to refer to his lady–friends as ‘a bag of antlers’ (supermodels — think about it). While I’m snickering like a frat–boy, I’m making fun of a human being’s appearance — like I’m one to judge?
Discernment yes, discrimination, no — this is the essence of judgment. What I can see from holding onto the grudge is that it isn’t a healthy thing. Yet, it is familiar. And I know I’m not letting go…
