Patriots won again.
I watched the game with a couple of friends, one rooting for the Los Angeles Rams, the other could give a shit. Incredibly fun. I was going for the Patriots, simply because the Rams got in from a shit no-call by the referees against the Saints. Also, fuck L.A.
An interesting thing occurred. My pal who was rooting for the Rams got upset. Then blurted out how much he hated Tom Brady and the Pats and their cheating fucking scumbags.
Wow. Wild. Then I asked why he'd felt this way. Simply put, Tom Brady represented all the WASPy ass jocks who tormented he and his friends when they were teens.
It's hard to wrap my brain around bullies that transcend the emotional attachment to a...game on television. Like, I don't hate on Tom Selleck because he played rich playboy Magnum P.I. Though these were the guys who got pussy over me in college. Damn mustache.
Sometimes I wonder about my friend. I think he has deeper darker pain that hasn't risen to the surface yet. And an unforgiving nature that seems to derail him. I think most everyone I know who suffers in Los Angeles as a transplant are hiding or running from something. The past.
In terms of the Super Bowl, it is rewarding a team who seems to never be the underdog. And maybe that is what disgusts my friend the most. Not that I cared either way, but to see sports history is remarkable.
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