In this personal and nationwide Annus Horribilus (as Queen Elizabeth would say) that we've been experiencing for the past 11 months, it's completely out of the downhill flow of events to find both the New England Patriots and Boston Celtics performing like professional sports franchises. Throw logic and reason out the window, and start listening to those voices in your heads instead, kiddies.

The people jumping on the Pats bandwagon are doing so with the fervor of starving Afghans fighting for a bag of rice. Plus, in a stunning case of mass intelligence enhancement along the lines of the famous story/movie Charly, everyone even mildly interested in football has become an expert in analyzing the skills of NFL quarterbacks, particularly Tom Brady and Drew Bledsoe. During one Sunday afternoon in a bar when the Patriots are on, you can learn that Brady is too inexperienced/the hope for the future; has a gun for an arm/can't throw to save his life; is extremely mobile/runs too much; and is our only chance at reaching the playoffs/will choke as soon as the going gets rough. Meanwhile, Bledsoe is immobile/a great pocket passer; too quiet/a confident leader; still too hurt to play/raring to go; hates Brady/is schooling his protégé; and has demanded a trade in the off-season/will come back and fight for his job.

Personally, I'm glad Bledsoe is on the sidelines, but only for his own health. You don't have a ruptured blood vessel and lose two pints of blood through internal bleeding -- as he did when he was knocked out in the first New York Jets game -- and simply jump back on an NFL field. Plus, Bledsoe still needs to be moved around with a hand truck when he drops back to pass, and while the offensive line has improved, Tom Brady was running for his life last Sunday in Buffalo.

The fact that the Pats' opponents this weekend -- the Miami Dolphins -- sacked Brady five times when they met earlier in Miami (during a 30-10 route of the Patriots) is another good reason for Drew to be driving a clipboard at game time. Yes, Bledsoe is a class act, a great quarterback, a loyalist, and a real leader. But Brady has earned his spurs this year. And when Brady nearly gets decapitated -- as he did against the Bills, when his helmet went flying after a vicious hit -- and then bounce right back up, you have to admire his moxie, as well as the quick feet and accurate arm.

Plus, it seems like magic dust has accompanied his arrival. The miraculous (but correct) call on the fumble in OT by the Pats' David Patten at the Bills 41, after he got whistled by DB Keion Carpenter -- in which his unconscious head bounced onto the turf out of bounds and negated Buffalo's recovery of the ball -- is one of those gifts from God that you can't buy. I was watching the game in a crowded restaurant, unable to hear the sound and explanation of the call, but every one of the Pats fans packing the place rolled their eyes, looked as much embarrassed as pleased, and assumed the Bills had gotten a hummer call.

The Saturday game against Miami is the biggest in years, with the Pats looking for a division title. They escaped Buffalo while the Dolphins were getting shut out, so that's a morale-booster just when they need it. But it seems that the Fish are the ones we need to squish any time we've had success, and both New England and Miami's postseason hopes are riding on this game.

I honestly believe that the Pats can win this game and dominate. Sure, they looked questionable against the Bills. But I am harking back to the previous game against Cleveland, which was arguably won as much by their gutsy going for a first down on fourth and three from the Browns' one, and then ramming it in from there, as much as Troy Brown's electrifying 80-yard punt return. I was watching this new Pats offensive line on those plays, and Damien Woody, Matt Light, and Joe Andruzzi and Co. simply drove their opposite numbers backward to allow Antowain Smith to get six. Combine that kind of toughness with an equally rough-and-tumble defense that seems to get better each week (welcome back, Ty Law) that this team comes to play, and play hard. A little more of that kind of de-cleating of their opposite numbers could make the vociferous faithful in Foxboro very happy campers.

Where's your

messiah now?

Am I mistaken, or did Reverend Ricky Pitino fail to lead the Boston Celtics out of the wilderness?

Instead of being taken to the land of milk and honey by basketball's version of the Music Man, no-name Jim O'Brien has taken over for Pitino in Boston and turned a bunch of non-names into winners. As this is written, the Celts are in second place in the Eastern Conference's Atlantic Division with a 14-8 record, and are looking like a playoff team. Quite an improvement from a bunch of sad sacks whose coach always promised the playoffs and then had to backpedal quicker than someone guarding Allen Iverson on a fast break.

Now people are actually beginning to learn some of the names on the Celtics roster. Paul Pierce has emerged as an all star, and he's currently second in the NBA in scoring. Sports Illustrated has sung his praises, and when he put up 46 points in one half earlier this year, more than a few people paid notice. (Yes, that would be 92 if he duplicated it in the opening stanza, Mikey.)

Along with his co-captain and fellow forward Antoine Walker, a baffling combination of awesome talent, hard work, head cramps and no conscience -- he missed all 11 of his three-pointers against the 76ers earlier in the week, but kept firing -- they have brought the Celts respectability in the less than two years since Ricky P. headed south. That they are doing it with a cast of characters named Vitaly Potapenko, Milton Palacio, the enigmatic Kenny Anderson, Eric "Is he still in the league?" Williams, Tony Battie, and newboy Joe Johnson makes you look for the mirrors through the smoke, but give credit to O'Brien. The team comes to play, which is more than one can say about the end of Pitino's tenure, when they threw it in over the transom, and both Pierce and Walker are fearless about taking the shots that count down the stretch. That they make a hell of a lot of them doesn't hurt either.

The NBA is still essentially unwatchable until the post-season play starts sometime in July, but for those of us who used to make deals with the devil every time Larry, Kevin, the Chief, and the gang played the L.A. Lakers in the NBA finals, it's a pleasure to see some real players out there wearing the green again. Taking in a few of Pierce and Walker's jams and jukes in the lane can be fun while they're rolling commercials on the channel you're actually watching.

The Patriots and Celtics back from the dead? That's not horribilus this annus, just weird . . . us.

Issue Date: December 21 - 27, 2001