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Helping you pick a side

Over the weekend, Inky columnist Bob Ford unleashed a salvo against New York and unequivocally stated his intention to root for the Pats this coming weekend.

I must say, I'm never one to hide my feelings about our rivals, but I was pretty surprised to see Ford go after New York this. Good for him!

For the moment, and for the purpose of picking a side in the coming Super Bowl between the New England (nee Boston) Patriots and the New York Giants, you have to ignore the fact that the Patriots haven't played within the city limits of Boston since 1968 and the Giants have been breathing the toxic air of East Rutherford, N.J., since 1976.

These are vagabonds, my friends, creatures of expediency. By comparison, the Eagles have had six home fields, all of which have been loyally within the civic boundary of Philadelphia. If the Eagles played in a location similar to Foxborough, Mass., they would be taking the field somewhere around Wilmington - and without the added benefit of tax-free shopping!

No, regardless of the actual mailing addresses of the teams, this has to be Boston vs. New York. And the choice is easy. You have to root for the Patriots because, really, what do we care? Go ahead, win again. Steal the signals, wear the hoodie, score a hundred points, go to Disney World. What does this make? Four Super Bowls in seven years? Five in eight years? Whatever. Will Hunting stands at the coffee shop window with his armful of Lombardi trophies, asking, "How do you like them apples?" We don't care. Enjoy your apples. Make a pie if you like.

This is basically the discussion we had here on the blog last week. What does another Pats Superbowl really mean to us? In the end it's nothing. We won't even play the Pats again until at least 2010. The Giants... we'll be seeing them every year, twice a year forever. Is them bragging about a ring for the next 20 years really worth seeing the Pats humbled once?

Take it home Bob....

Boston, bless its tortured Calvinist soul, knows it will have to pay for its temporal excesses with suffering at some later date. Winning streaks end, dynasties crumble, the exalted are humbled. There is, after all, a tomorrow.

If New York wins, though, I'm not so sure.

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