SpyGate, DeflateGate, a 15-year shadow on the AFC East, Stetson cologne magazine spreads...Hell, I can even remember when the number 69 used to be cool.
Of all the justifiable reasons to choose a bag of d***s over a Patriots fan, it all came down to one thing: a guy named Eric. He was the douchiest of them all.
The year was 2003, and a zeitgeist-changing epiphany would befall my young consciousness: Patriots fans signify the largest per capita concentration of douchebaggery in the Northern Hemisphere. Eric was a combination of bravado and mounting inanimate objects, while having the football rhetoric of an 8 year-old who had their mac and cheese stolen from their lunch.