Folks, there’s an ugly, ugly rumor going around the NFL these days, and I’ll just come out and say it:
Apparently, the New England Patriots aren’t super-duper fun to play for.
I know: it’s like finding out Florida is humid. Or a ride in a convertible is airy. Or that doughnuts aren’t a terribly healthy dinner.
Do you mean to tell me that life on the Patriots—that salty sea vessel piloted by the Grumpy Lobster Boat Captain himself, Bill Belichick, a man whose smile appears once every 17 years, like a cicada—isn’t a dance party full of ha-ha’s and yukkety-yuk-yuk-yuks?