So it’s a Giants-Patriots Super Bowl rematch blah blah blah. Today’s games literally could not have ended any worse as far as I’m concerned. I think God is punishing me for rooting for the Patriots against the Broncos last week. But I can’t regret it. For the love of all that is good and holy, Tebow-mania needed to die a fiery death. Not that I’m relishing the thought of two weeks of “rematch” talk.
Just like last time, I’ll be rooting for the Giants in the Super Bowl, which will make me something of an aberration amongst Philly sports fans (unlike last time, when the desire to see the Patriots’ perfect season go up in flames overruled the divisional hatred for the Giants). But I can’t help it, I hate the Patriots more than any team that isn’t the Cowboys. Bill Belichick? Tom Brady? Don’t get me started.
And this was just the last thing I needed today after the crappy way my day started. Yes, I’m talking about Joe Paterno’s death.
I started crying as soon as I found out he’d passed and it took at least 20 minutes for the tears to fully stop. It probably didn’t help that I spent those 20 minutes reading other people’s reactions to the news on Twitter. It’s kinda surprising, given JoePa’s Twitter death and resurrection last night, that I didn’t feel more prepared for the news. But here’s the thing, for my entire life, JoePa felt like a grandfather to me, so it’s not really that surprising that I felt like my grandfather had died. (And a tip of my hat to whoever it was on Twitter who made a “grandfather” comment and helped me figure out how I was feeling.)
Maybe it’s weird that I was so deeply affected even though I’m not a Penn Stater. But I feel like I am a Penn Stater by proxy, what with all my friends and family (brother, mother, uncle, grandfather) who are Penn Staters. At the very least, I am a Penn State fan by birth. Hell, I can’t imagine how anyone could grow up in PA and not be a Penn State fan.
So rest in peace, Joe. I’m sorry things ended for you the way they did, but at least now you’re free.