The loneliest number

Never would have thought before this season that 18-1 could feel so empty.

Almost perfect? C'mon, that counts for absolutely nothing at this hour. There is no solace to be found. So much more than a single football game was lost tonight. The Patriots were 60 well-played minutes from sporting immortality. They would have stood alone as the greatest team in the history of the sport.

Now? Now they will now be lumped with the '68 Colts, the '90 Bills, the '01 Rams as pumped-up favorites who did not live up to their billing. Those who prematurely reveled in their superiority will be left eating a heaping helping of our own words. (Hello there.) The '72 Dolphins will raise their glasses. The ESPN airbags will smirk. Your Patriots be called chokers. New Yawkers will gloat, loudly, for the first time since Oct, '04. We will have no choice but to endure it all.

I'm in no mood to compare and contrast my favorite teams' most devastating defeats, but I'll admit, the pain of this one won't equal the spirit-crushing sadness I felt after the 2003 ALCS loss; I guess baseball just owns a bigger piece of my heart. But it does leave me aching, and a little bit shellshocked. We've been so blessed as New England sports fans in recent seasons that you'd think disappointment wouldn't hit us so hard anymore. It does. The more you think about what happened tonight, the more depressing it gets. It almost doesn't seem real.


So we're left to search for an explanation for What Went Wrong, and we can't resist the temptation to distribute the blame. Scapegoats can be found without much of a search. The offensive line was a five-man homage to Max Lane; they helped make Justin Tuck a star tonight. Ellis Hobbs, a weak link exposed, still has no idea where the hell Plaxico Burress went. Benjamin Watson (one penalty, one false start, zero catches) would have helped the cause more by remaining behind in Foxboro. And that's just the starter list.

Even the two men who always gave us the confidence - sure, arrogance - to believe the Patriots would coast to their fourth championship in seven seasons were not their usual infallible selves tonight. Belichick's decision to go for a fourth and 13 in the first half rather than have Stephen Gostkowski attempt a 49-yard field goal was curious at the time, and in hindsight it looks like a strategic blunder that will linger. Worse, he now has something in common with Mike Martz. He was outcoached on the biggest stage, and those right there are words I never thought I'd write.

As for the quarterback, I imagine he never thought Plaxico Namath's 23-17 prediction would actually be generous to the Pats' offense. It's fair to say Brady was underwhelming for the second straight playoff game, playing sluggishly until the go-ahead drive in the fourth quarter. Brady, like his coach, no longer owns that invincible aura in the postseason - that happens when you lose to a Manning in the final minute two straight seasons. I would not be surprised to learn the infamous ankle was injured more than anyone outside of the Patriots' locker room knew; he did not step into his deep throws all night, and he was unusually scattershot on numerous passes longer than a dozen or so yards. The New York pass rush battered him like he was an honorary Bledsoe. The only way his day could have been more disappointing is if Gisele went home with Eli Manning.

While the Patriots contributed to their own demise, let's be clear. They didn't lose the game; the Giants went out and won the damn thing, and while that is absolutely no consolation whatsoever, it's a fact. Manning out-Bradyed Brady, throwing a pair of fourth-quarter TD passes and emerging confidently from big brother Peyton's enormous shadow, and it must have been easy for anyone without a New England allegiance to root for him tonight. I'm not sure I've seen a career-defining moment take place for two teammates on the same play, but Manning's escape-and-heave to David Tyree for the one-handed catch against his helmet . . . well, Steve Sabol IV will be showing that one on NFL Films reels decades from now. It will endure as The Play from this game, a Montana-to-Clark for this generation. I'd just as soon never see it again.

The cruelest twist, of coure, is that the Giants beat the Patriots with what was once their signature style - fierce and unrelenting defense, an opportunistic, efficient offense, and just the right amount of pure friggin' luck. (Tell me again how Pierre Woods failed to come up with that loose ball in the second quarter.) Watching the Giants play so admirably, you can't help but wonder if, during this high-flying, record-setting season, the Patriots have somehow lost their way, the essence of what they once were and what they should be. I do not need to remind you that his makes three straight years the Patriots have had to walk off the field with their heads bowed. While they remain the sport's model organization and surely will be in the postseason mix again a season from now, the dynasty talk for now belongs in the past tense.

We can't help but recall what Brady said often in the days leading up to the game. We will remember this game all our lives. Sadly, now it will be for all the wrong reasons. The coronation turned into a funeral. Those damn Giants, they were right all along.

First and 10: Dolphins 21, Patriots 0

1. In the immediate aftermath of Sunday's debacle, I was annoyed (okay, pissed) at what I'd witnessed. I was convinced the Patriots were setting us up for a one-and-done cameo in the playoffs, and I had the urge to write a dynasty's obituary. Instead, I chose not to write at all, giving myself a few days to sort it all out and try to put the franchise's current state in proper perspective. Well, those days have obviously passed, and so here's where I think they stand: The Patriots, thinner depth-wise than in most years and crippled by more injuries than Colonel Potter's 4077th, are not an elite team anymore, just one of a number of good but flawed teams trying to prove it's more contender than pretender - just like everyone other than San Diego, in other words. The days of expecting every Sunday to bring certain victory are gone, and to be honest, I'm okay with that: a sports fan with a sense of entitlement is an unbecoming sight, and anyone who survive Rod Rust and Victor Kiam, among other eras and errors, knows a Patriots team with a 9-4 record is something not to be taken for granted. And yet, there's no denying that recent history has heightened our hopes, and in that regard it's disheartening to realize that a team that has so exceeded even our wildest expectations the last five seasons is suddenly trending in the wrong direction. Consider this: We like to hang our hats on the fact that the Belichick Patriots are traditionally beasts in December, that they always improve this time of year. But now we're looking at three straight weeks and four out of five in which they've played like a bumbling, second-tier NFC team. They're committing penalties like they're the Oakland Raiders in disguise, and they turn the ball over way too often for a team with grand aspirations. I hate to say it, but it seems they're getting worse, and I can't believe I'm saying that at this point in the season. Sure, maybe they'll find their mojo against lowly Houston, and maybe they'll pin down Jacksonville and Tennessee just the way the Jaguars and Titans did to the Colts, and maybe they'll enter the postseason with a little bit of momentum, the confidence of knowing they can beat anyone on a given Sunday, and wisdom of a three-time former champion. But right now, any dreams of a return trip to Miami in February have to be tempered by the reality of this gruesome first visit. The Patriots have a long way to go to get there again.

2. Yes, Deion Branch shot his way out of town, but only an idiot or Fred Smerlas (synonymous, I know) would dispute the fact that the Patriots would be a much better team at this hour had the Patriots found a way to satisfy dependable ol' No. 83. He's dearly missed, for unlike every receiver on this current roster, he could get open against quality cornerbacks and tight coverage consistently, and anyone who denies that isn't being honest.

3. Ellis Hobbs is so far in Belichick's doghouse, not even Doug Gabriel can see him. I'm curious what his transgression was, other than jumping around like a Chris Canty-esque fool every time he makes a marginally good play.

4. If Vince Wilfork is down for any significant length of time - and apparently, he was hobbling around on his redwood legs with a pronounced limp Monday - I fear the Patriots' run defense will begin to resemble that of 2002, when legendary windbag Steve Martin spent his Sundays flailing around and planning his next interview as ballcarrier after ballcarrier whizzed on by.

5. I refuse to believe the Patriots could do no better for a Josh Miller replacement at punter than Ken (But I'm A Magnificent Holder!) Walter. He's horrible, he was horrible the last time he was here, and there simply has to be a better alternative out there. His return makes no sense except from the perspective that they wanted a reliable holder for Stephen Gostkowski. Which, frankly, is an ass-backward way to choose a punter.

6. The more footage I saw of Maurice Jones-Drew, Fred Taylor and the rest of the Jaguars stampeding of the fraudulent Colts, the more annoyed I became that Laurence Maroney didn't get 25 carries, minimum, against Indy earlier this season. Ask me, Josh McDaniels has a long way to go to prove he's worthy of his OC title.

7. Matt Light is to Jason Taylor as Max Lane was to Reggie White. A human turnstile, a minor nuisance, a speed bump on the way to the quarterback. Man, what a whuppin'. Belichick wasn't exaggerating - Taylor might be the most dominating defender in the NFL this season. He was reminiscent of another Taylor, one who used to wear No. 56 for the Giants.

8. Speaking of Taylor, the Dolphins swiped him in the third round of the 1997 NFL Draft, 73d overall. The Patriots' picks up until that point: Canty, Brandon Mitchell, and Sedrick Shaw. Bust, journeyman, bust. Bobby Grier was something, wasn't he? (One more note: Mike Vrabel went later in that third round, to Pittsburgh . . . two picks after the Pats selected the long-forgotten Chris Carter.)

9. I miss the days when Tedy Bruschi made game-changing plays.

10. As for today's Completely Random Football Card:


Hey, look - it's a Patriots tight end who actually held onto the ball once in a while!