The One-Year Dynasty

I've lived in Delaware for about five years now. I live in the more populated Northern portion of the state (the rest of the state is referred to by locals as "slower lower" Delaware). It's part of the Philadelphia media market, so I'm surrounded by Eagles fans, Phillies fans, and Sixers fans. The Philadelphia market, in turn, is a Penn State market collegiately. Makes sense. It's the state's flagship school. It makes less sense for Delawareans to be big Penn State fans, particularly in this day and age. It's not their state's flagship school, and if you need to cheer on a program bigger than the University of Delaware, both Maryland and Rutgers are closer.

I point this out to my native-Delewarean, no-particular-connection-to-the-Commonwealth-of-Pennsylvania Penn State fans, just to good-naturedly needle them for being sheeple and just rooting for who the tee-vee tells them to root for.

But it is what it is. I only explain it because I want to establish that the majority of upper Delaware collegiate sports fans are Penn State fans. This will be important later. Write it down.

I've already written about how this may be the greatest college football season ever, at least if you love upsets.

But this also may be one of the greatest NFL seasons forever, because it has a storyline not seen in 35 years — an undefeated team.

I was born in 1976. Two years later, the NFL went to the 16-game schedule they have today. The 16-game schedule is all I know. It's an ingrained reference point. 10-6 means you are playoff-caliber. 12-4 means you are outstanding. 14-2 or 15-1 means you have the caliber of champions. 16-0 doesn't exist, doesn't compute, has never happened.

Until now, of course. We have a new, strange equation to grapple with. Do we like it?

Depends. I often say that the only good thing that will come of a New England Super Bowl victory and the first 19-0 season is that it will shut up the '72 Dolphins and their insufferable champagne phone call each year when the last undefeated team goes down. No offense to them but, a slight majority of the U.S. population was not alive when they turned their trick, and they did it in a 14-game regular season.

I don't believe the two extra games the Patriots had to play makes their potential feat any more impressive than the Dolphins'. But I do think the 14-game season gives us unfamiliar, unmelodic equations. 12-2, what's that? 10-4? Life has always been divided by 16. Did Red Grange play with you guys?

Every other factor weighs against the Patriots. Some people think Tom Brady is a pretty boy, or Randy Moss is a thug, and of course, Bill Belichick is as warm as Nome. Then there was that whole cheating thing, which cost the Patriots a first round draft-pick and holds as the largest fine ever levied against an NFL coach.

Boston already holds the championship on a major sport, and is the best bet to wrap-up the third sport with the best record in the NBA as of this writing.

I haven't mentioned the less-than-sporting ways they've closed out several of their games, most notably against the Redskins.

So there are lots of reasons not to be behind the Patriots. But the single largest reason is something else.

It has to do with something I write about in this space constantly: the upset. People love them. I certainly love them (I've probably used the David-Goliath metaphor 800 times in this column, and Lord knows I ain't retirin' it), and America loves them, too.

Sometimes I wonder, though, if I overstate America's love for the upset. I actually hear people complain about parity and pine for the Dynasty teams — any sport — of yesteryear. It boggles my mind. Only fans of dynasty teams can enjoy dynasties, no? Apparently not.

On the other hand, consider that every single time the Patriots step on the field now, the prospect of, not just an upset, but a historic upset, presents itself to their opponent. We have never, ever seen a juggernaut like the Patriots, if we aren't pushing 40 at minimum. It's a powerful, exciting thing, and it makes their games exciting. To be sure, the ratings for Patriot games are through the roof.

But are we turning on the TV in numbers we haven't done in years hoping to see history being made, or history being denied? I think I have my answer.

I watched the Patriots' final game of the regular season at a bar here in Delaware. It was a Saturday night, you'll recall, and the place was packed. You also recall that they faced the Giants, the most hated team in the hearts of Eagles fans, save Dallas.

At the same time, Penn State played in the Alamo Bowl against Texas A&M. As I established before (you did write it down as I asked, right?) this is Penn State country. There were three big screens in this bar. One had Penn State on, one had on Patriots/Giants, and one had on a basketball game no one was watching (Pitt/Dayton, for posterity). Several Penn State jerseys were visible in the crowd.

And yet, it was immediately clear that it was the Giants/Patriots game that people truly wanted to watch. Attention only returned to Penn State during commercials.

On the second play from scrimmage, Eli Manning hit Plaxico Burress over the middle for a 52-yard gain for the loathsome Giants.

The whole bar roared with thunderous cheers. Behold the power of the upset, and how it captures our imagination. If the Patriots do hoist the Lombardi trophy, do not be surprised if the University of Phoenix Stadium crowd showers them with boos.