coming up short

we watched.

we'd seen them have undefeated runs before, yet somehow this season seemed... golden. brady seemed telepathic and moss' receptions a thing of grace. he was gorgeous and unstoppable in the air and on the turf. for the first half of the season they were invincible. tanks rolling over tender daisies. the wins got embarrassing for the point deficits.

then the murmurs. then louder. then... maybe?

it did get harder, and ceased to be a walk in the park. the ravens put up a fight and then it seemed everybody found a chink in the armor. never enough to beat them, but enough to make a fan like me, who still picks at her red sox scabs of *whaaaaaaaaat????*, never certain of the win til the clock ticked done.

i'll confess right here a certain close affection for the pats. i've met most of 'em up close and personal. had some young eyes down my blouse, beefy hands on my waist, sweet raps in my ear. i've also dealt with the no-nonsense coach and owner regularly. these are stand-up guys, all of whom put the team before themselves.

it is as old-school as you're gonna get. it's the kind of team with which i grew up and learned about sporting.

game-day, espn posted its equivalent of the electoral map. only THREE states thought the giants would take it. (who knew mississippi had so many ex-nyer's, y'all?) a quick back-flip from when only us blue states thought they'd take it. guess when your team is off playing golf, you back the sure thing, huh?

watching it sucked badly enough, so i'll not belabor the details.

they are physically and mentally specimens of something sublime and superhuman. they played 18 undefeated games. 18. against bigger, stronger, faster guys than those fucking dolphins -- with 12 -- from 35 years ago (shut up, already!) they achieved something i doubt i ever will see again.

yet bajillions of people around the globe watched a *sure thing* come up short. inexplicably defeated, they walked off the field into the arms of wives, supermodels or maybe even jack daniels. ("you gots any cardinale, lil lady? don't open it, i'm just gonna take it to go...") some will go to the pro-bowl; others to pebble beach; others to cabos. whatever. spotlight: off.

recently i've come under closer scrutiny than that of ever before, and i know it's only the tip of the berg. while it is the eyes of only one, it is a microscope whose powerful lens burns. i fall short everywhere. nothing is right or good. how do i tie my shoes and get out of the house? everything, anything, prior to *now* got zapped from the history books.

i allowed myself to get in over my head. you know when people say, "what's the worst that could happen?" well, pretty much it all did. bad, bad, omg, then even worse. the financial knee-bone is most assuredly connected to the shin-bone, and also to the ankle-bone. except the knee-bone now is uncooperative cuz it's under too much stress.

nobody is stalking my building for pix of me in defeat. (well, hopefully, not...) yet, believe me, i cannot get away from it. my failures and demons are a big useful pointy stick for hurt, but not for teasing out the strands of solution and solvency.

last night, i felt bewildered sadness watching my pats trot off the field. then again, not one of 'em has to worry about scraping up the escalade payment next month.