The Underdogs Prevailed, Now What?

Despite being the richest and most powerful nation in the world, Americans identify with the underdog in sports, politics and any high school homecoming.

We revel in the possibility of the underdog–maybe it goes back to the American Revolution, I'm not really sure, but what I am sure of is that the possibility we see in the underdog provides us with an unbridled hope.

One that we can and do become addicted to despite having our hearts broken season after season (ask a Cubs or Mets fan).

It's a twisted love with continual heart break, but we can't get enough.

As a Red Sox fan, I am torn. Now that we have won two World Series, the 'curse' has been broken (a lovely story that gave our losses the ultimate pain: the knowledge that we had caused our own heart ache).

What do you do when you're team has risen to the top?

Now you're rooting for the Goliath of the sport? That's not fun.

There's no sport in slaughtering your opponent.

It's like hunting rabbits in a pet store with a semi-automatic, where's the sport in that?

No, the Sox are no longer the underdogs of baseball.

I miss that unrequited hope, that bitter-sweet loss. Are they going to win? Can we actually make this work? Oh wait, that's right no, we can't. Because we're the underdogs. I was okay with that, knowing where we were, and there was respect from other fans for sticking with a team despite loss after loss.

So I've thought about some new teams:

I like the Mets because they tease their fans along, you think your team is on a winning–streak and then they blow it- BIG TIME- with loss after loss after loss. To the point where you're embarrassed when someone's reading about it in the sports section of the post on the train to work the next morning.

I also like the Cubs, but they're more of a sure-fire losing team so there's not really that much fun in that.

And that about ends my knowledge of baseball teams.

So, out of the three, I'm sticking with my guys, the sometimes unstoppable (every 86 years and then 2 years later) Red Sox.

Super Bowl 42

It would be easy for me to point out all of the nay-sayers, all of the football fans who thought it couldn't be done, and especially easy for me to point out all of the sad, sad Patriots fans (and not just because their faces are still stained with bitter tears of shock and resentment toward Brady).

It would be easy.

But that's the problem, it's just too easy.

It would be like pulling a chair from underneath a blind person and then laughing when they fall.

Of course it's an easy joke and that's why I am not going to do it.

No, I won't focus on the arrogant statements by Patriots players, fans and most of New England before the game.

I'm going to focus on the David in this contest that successfully served up a lovely platter of New England Patriots for sacrifice: The Giants.

The Giants were the underdogs of not only the Super Bowl, but for much of the year and the took on the undefeated punks of football.

The Patriots thought of the Giants as a last speed bump on their highway to the perfect season.

But as we all now know, they thought wrong. Really, really wrong.