Where choking isn’t just commonplace, it’s a way of life.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach when the Falcons failed to even secure a field goal, after a game-defining Julio Jones catch followed immediately by some negative plays, taking them out of field goal range and resulting in a punt.
The sinking feeling sunk even more when Julian Edleman made the catch of the game, where he managed to secure the ball amidst a deflection off of a hand and a leg while surrounded by and getting pelted by three Atlanta players while simultaneously managing to keep the ball from hitting the ground.
The feeling completely sunk when the Patriots scored the game-tying touchdown and subsequent two-point conversion.
And I threw the in the towel as soon as the coin flip landed heads and the Patriots would start the first overtime in Superb Owl history with possession of the ball.
Anyone who watches a ton of sports, see patterns in the rhythm, and/or narrative of sports games. Fans watching on television, those in attendance, and even the players and coaches alike. Inherently, if games were decided on paper, they would never have to be played in the venues, which often leads to the adage of “that’s why the games are played,” because spectators really don’t know why might happen. That’s the allure of upsets, because the unexpected has happened. But the thing is, once the game is under way, and rhythms and momentums are established, sometimes things become predictable, and things can become expected.
In the case of Superb Owl Lee, when the Falcons suddenly became offensively inept in the second half of the game, the writing showed up on the wall, that if there was going to be any hope of victory, it was going to have to be held onto, instead of reached for and taken.
But because the Falcons are a team from Atlanta, and Atlanta knows nothing but defeat, the Falcons did only what was possible, based on where they came from, and the New England Patriots are once again Super Bowl champions, and yet another Atlanta team falls short of a championship, further cementing the legacy that Atlanta is pretty much the worst sporting town in the country and is on Cleveland-level of being a laughing stock.
I’ll admit that in spite of the defeatist expectations and the pessimism going into Superb Owl Lee, I genuinely felt in my heart that the Falcons had a chance. Despite the false bravado that defeat was inevitable, and that Tom Brady was god-incarnate, I really did want the Falcons to win. Not just the Falcons, but the city of Atlanta, to possibly taste the joy of victory. I have no beef with the Patriots, but this time, I wanted to see them lose, and give way to the ascension of Atlanta.
When the Falcons scored first, I thought to myself that “it’s just one score, New England will answer it right away.” It didn’t happen, and I plead guilty to allowing a modicum of hope to grow in spite of myself.
When the Falcons went up 14-0 on Ryan-to-Hooper, I scrunched my brow at the perplexity of why New England wasn’t playing better. However, this is where the seed of concern was sown that not only were the Pats digging their own grave by allowing Atlanta to get up two scores, but Atlanta was creating a higher fall from grace if they were to inevitably let the lead slip away.
But when Tom Brady threw a pick-six to Robert Alford and the Falcons jumped up 21-0, I began to think in my head “is this really happening?”
I admit, when the game went into halftime with the score 21-3, I felt pretty okay. Sure, I knew that there was still an entire half of football yet to be played, but I actually allowed myself to feel some confidence, and actually look towards the future, of words I’d say, a post I’d write and feelings I’d feel, if and when an Atlanta team would actually capture a championship.
During a lull between Lady Gaga and the start of the second half, I did something stupid, and I checked my phone. Between text messages and social media, I realized that other people, less paranoid and probably less sports-worldly than I, were pretty much phoning it in, and preemptively anointing the Atlanta Falcons as champions.
This, is behavior that I do not condone, do not participate in (unless feebly attempting to reverse jinx the team I want to lose), and ultimately abhor greatly. Absolutely nothing is worse than celebrating early, except maybe the American political climate. Seriously, the Worst Things Ever list would look like:
- Politics
- Celebrating early
- Cancer
- Atlanta morning radio
I saw people gushing their jubilation at a “locked up” Falcons victory. I saw one person starting to preemptively make plans to go Downtown tomorrow (today) for a predicted Falcons celebratory parade or something, which made my eye twitch. And a brother of mine had been texting me about how Tom Brady was finished and that I should stop being so pessimistic at denied the inevitable victory.
I wanted every single one of these people to shut the fuck up, but it was too late. And that was pretty much the beginning of the end, as far as I’m concerned. Next thing we know, Tom Brady found Julian Edleman and Danny Amendola on every single fucking snap yet the Falcons were completely powerless to stop it, despite the fact that everyone on the fucking planet knew it was going to one of them including a dead and blind Ray Charles and then the game was tied and headed into overtime.
Every time Joe Buck mentioned a convoluted stat about largest leads, or “never happened in the Super Bowl,” I just wanted to put my fist through a wall, because these are the kinds of things begging to be jinxed and reversed. When fans start buying into them, and believing that because it’s never happened it’s not going to happen, then that’s Murphy’s Law, and history being made is what Atlanta exists for.
Really though, all this angst and saltiness I feel today, it’s all my fault. I let myself get caught up in the want for an Atlanta victory, foolishly, because Atlanta doesn’t ever do anything but choke. I shouldn’t gripe about other, more optimistic, more hopeful people for their lack of understanding of superstitious wills, hexes, jinxes and Murphy’s Laws of watching sports; ultimately, there’s nothing wrong with really wanting to get caught up in a storm of jubilation, and a lot of people gush because they just don’t know the rules of watching sports. It’s none of their faults that Atlanta will forever be known as the city whose sports teams simply are incapable of getting over the hump, and where second place isn’t just a way of life, it’s the peak of the mountain.
Everything everyone says about Atlanta sports is dead on. Verified, justified and cemented. This is simply a city in which soul-sucking defeats and unfulfilled expectations aren’t just accidental, they’re supposed to happen. This is just the latest chapter in sports writers and Atlanta detractors have just been re-fueled to remind all vested eyes and ears about how much Atlanta sucks. I admit, these are the types people I wanted to see have their mouths STFU’d more than anyone, but that’s not going to happen, now and presumably ever.
I should really fucking hate sports for the misery they put me through on a somewhat regular basis, but I keep tuning in, because being a sports fan is like being in an abusive relationship. We tune in and watch and get vested and have hopes, and for what? Unattainable goals, and championship peaks of one in fields of so many, where things like bad ownership, investor agendas, free agency and player greed, among other factors, muddy up the waters on a regular basis. We tune in and hope for regular season wins, so that we have chances to see our teams in postseason play, and then what? Choke jobs and even more soul-wrenching defeats on from higher plateaus against stronger and better competitors.
Only the Falcons could lose the Superb Owl in the way that they did. I mean, just look at Superb Owls of prior years; The Ravens almost choked it away, but held on, the way the Falcons should have. The Broncos simply got blown away by the Seahawks. The Pats and Seahawks played a classically competitive game that was defined by one critical Seattle mistake. And the Broncos ground and defended a perceived superior Carolina Panthers to death a year ago.
But nobody in recent history had really blown the game open the way the Falcons did, and allowed for such a massive, epic comeback and manage to lose.
Only the Falcons. Because they play for Atlanta, and Atlanta is the city of chokers, the city of losers, and the city that simply doesn’t know how to win. If there were trophies for choking, Atlanta would have more trophies than the rest of the NFL combined. I don’t imagine people would like reading such words as much as I don’t like to write them out, but until this city proves us fucking wrong, it’s the sad and unfortunate truth.
This is where I might say “thank god baseball is around the corner,” but there’s no joy in Braves town either. I still think the organization is crooked and greedy, and no matter how much I know I shouldn’t, I take it out on the players by rooting against them and being ambivalent about the results of their games. I’ve already kind of decided that this year I’m kind of interested in the Houston Astros, and I’m not really looking forward to the baseball season much at all otherwise.
Man, fuck sports. God I’m salty today keke
