The following is a fictional episode of one of my favorite shows, Strangers with Candy. It is about the struggle fans of the New England Patriots have had to deal with all season. Go Pats!
Later that night.
“Ah Stinky, what should I do? Do I stay true to my feelings and go along with Patriots or do I give in to my dark and shallow yearning for acceptance and popularity?”
Stinky looks at her, giving her the type of silence that only a pet skunk can.
“What do you know of being unpopular? Everybody loves skunks. Why, walking down the street you get so much attention! People are always pointing and shouting ‘skunk!’ in excitement over seeing you.”
Stinky does not respond.
“If only I could be as popular as you. Well, goodnight Stinky. Goodnight ashes of mother, father, and first pet turtle Shelly.”
With that, Jerri drifts off to slumberland, loudly snoring away the complications of the day. But her rest is not to be peaceful. Voices fill her ears, floating heads swim by her eyes.
“You will fail,” sneers Noblet’s head
“Patriots Suck! Patriots Suck!”
”I don’t even know you anymore, Jerri.”
The endless parade of unattached heads and snickering sounds becomes unbearable.If only Jerri would be visited in her dreams by someone who could show her the way. It is a plot device that works in so many stories.
“Je-e-e-r-r-r-i-i-i B-l-l-l-l-a-a-a-n-n-n-k-k-k-k”
The ghostly sound startles Jerri and she thinks she wakes up. Actually, she is still dreaming. Otherwise, what happens here would be incredibly creepy, if not completely impossible. Nevertheless, she answers the call.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
”Jerri Blank, you have lost your way.”
”Who’s that? Who’s talking? What kind of crazy pretend-reality is this?”
“Jerri Blank, you have lost your way. Your friends have guided you to the right path, the righteous path. You were once a Patriot fan. Now you have descended to the lowly level of any other team’s fan.”
“Oh my dear Lord, is it really you? Are you…Tom Brady?”
“Yes. Yes I am the Tom Brady, #12, quarterback to the undefeated New England Patriots, 2007 NFL MVP. Can you not tell my person by my handsome face and rockin’ body?”
“Well, that is a pretty recognizable butt chin you got going on there. Tom…”
”Please, call me Mr. Tom Brady of the New England Patriots who was also the 2007 NFL MVP. It shows respect.”
”Right. Mr. Tom Brady of the New England Patriots who was also the 2007 NFL MVP, I am conflicted. See, I wants to roots for you but peer pressure is telling me not to. What do I do?”
”Jerri, listen to the dream apparition of me. You must block out those people who say that I and my team will not win the Super Bowl or do not deserve to be there. You must listen to what’s in your heart. And I think we both know what is in there.”
“Best guess would be some veins that are blocked by fat or scar tissue. That’s it! I should listen to my scar tissue! But what is that telling me? I can’t hear it over the screaming.”
“Ugh, your head is thicker than my right lineman.”
”Is that the way it’s leaning these days?” Jerri suggestively asks as she splays her legs wide. Mr. Tom Brady of the New England Patriots who was also the 2007 NFL MVP chokes back a bit of vomit before continuing.
“Jerri, listen to me! Being a sports fan isn’t about rooting against something. It is about rooting for something. Support the team that is better, not the one that will make you look better.”
“Support the team that is better. Wow, I never thought of it that way. Thank you, Mr. Tom Brady of the New England Patriots who was also the 2007 NFL something something.”
“Hey, no problem kid.”
As he starts to fade away, Jerri brings him back. “Excuse me, sir. May I just say that you have the hottest ass in the National Football League?”
Brady smirks, “I know.” And with that, he vanishes.
Jerri wakes, for realsies, with a start.
“Damn, that was a good dream. I would totally hit that.”
So would we, Jerri. So would we.
______________________________________________________________
It is time for the annual Super Bowl Assembly in which Flatpoint High gathers to cheer their favorite team on to victory. The school gymnasium has just been filled to the brim with shouting students and uncomfortable looking teachers. No teachers are more awkward looking than Mr. Noblet and Mr. Jellineck, who both decided to mask their football loyalties in the colors of the rainbow.
“Chuck, they’re going to find out. We’re doomed!”
”Get a grip, Geoffrey. We’re in Giants’ colors, plus some. These people will never know.”
”I can’t keep this secret much long…”
”Shhh, Principal Blackman is about to speak.”
All attention turns to the podium where Principal Blackman has taken position. Jellineck wipes his sweaty brow with his multi-colored handkerchief as a booming voice fills the room.
“Students of Flatpoint High. We have gathered today to pay tribute and show support to the one team that can lead us to victory, the one team that is different from all the rest. Their quarterback is a strong quarterback, with family legacy to live up to. Eli Manning and the New York Giants will march in that parade known as the Super Bowl and he will bring freedom to the masses, long suppressed by the domination of these so-called Patriots.”
Wild cheering ensues.
“Dynasty my ass, these guys don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be champions - except for those three years that they won the championship. And they did go undefeated in the regular season. They have a lot of weapons; those wide receivers, the running game. Their offense is pretty good. And you gotta hand it to that defense, having so many veteran players. Furthermore, you really can’t say enough about Tom Brady, probably the best quarterback to play the game. Reminds me of Montana (player, not state). Hall of Famer right there. Of course, it all starts with the head coach. Belichick is quite the genius, I must say. The way he cuts his hoo…”
”Um, Principal Blackman? Aren’t we supporting the New York Giants?” Coach Wolf interjected, fearing the principal was going off message.
“Uh, what? Hmm? Oh right. Yes, of course. The New York Giants. Go team!”
The pep band starts up the Flatpoint High fight song and the students start to cheer. Suddenly, a sound like a screeching car horn, nails running down a chalkboard, and a dying cat combined and then thrown under a jackhammer pierces the vibrant air.
”I got something to say!”
Jerri Blank, clad in what can only be described as a football costume made for an 80 year old, has taken to the podium. The crowd is quickly silenced, save for a smattering of uncontrolled laughter from the faculty and student body at Jerri’s hideously tight football stretch pants. Her #12 jersey is, unfortunately, not large enough to cover hips big enough to deliver a baby or two.
“You all are a bunch of rubes. Look at ya. You’re wearing the colors of America yet rooting for the team trying to bring America down. What gives? Why do you think they are called the Patriots? America’s team, people. If you really want something to root against, how about a down-and-out team who six weeks ago couldn’t put together a winning strategy except for out on the road? Root against the football team that can’t even have their own stadium but have to share it with the stinkin’ Jets.”
A shout is heard from the crowd. “I hate the Jets!”
“Well, guess who else hates the Jets,” Jerri replies. “That’s right, the New England Patriots. The Jets are lower than the stinkin’ Ravens.”
”I hate the Ravens.”
Numerous shouts from the crowd can now be heard. A sampling:
”I hate the Colts.”
”Well, I thoroughly dislike the Chargers.”
”Oh, the Chargers aren’t that bad. Not like the Steelers.”
“Oh yeah, the Steelers suck.”
“Don’t forget the Eagles.”
”Cowboys!”
”Green Bay Sucks!”
”Bad things be brought upon the Bills.”
”Ditto that for the Dolphins.”
Jerri, sensing she is winning over the crowd, continues. “See? There is only one place where you can legitimately hate all of these teams. It ain’t in New York. It’s New England. When you’re part of the best, all the rest don’t count for squat. Now, whattya say? Let’s go Pats! Woooo!”
At this, the crowd goes wild. Energized, the crowd leaps to their feet in celebration. Two guys pick up Jerri and parade her around the crowd on their shoulders. Ecstatic with joy for Jerri’s revelation, Geoffrey Jellineck, bedazzled in a tight fighting rainbow shirt takes to the podium.
