(Photo by Rick Stewart/Getty Images)
Did the Patriots really trounce Buffalo that badly in the Brady vs. Bledsoe Bowl, essentially starting the end of the Drew Bledsoe era in Buffalo halfway through a record-setting first season? And were we really supposed to “go ask them about it” in the immediate aftermath?
Did a defensive back really yell “a little help” when an overthrown pass rolled my way? Did I really offer God a lifetime of service if he’d “just let this one spiral” as I tossed it back? (It did. I reneged.)
It’s hard to imagine a crazier way to learn the ropes. I found out where to park when snow is in the forecast.
Three hours in a post-game parking lot will teach you that. I learned when to stand my ground, whether it’s a “Cheerless” Price tantrum or a Bledsoe monotoned answer, and, like the time Eric Moulds caught a sideline pass in training camp and had me in his headlights, when to get the heck out of the way.
I learned that these men cared about their job and each other. They deserved to be treated with respect. There’s a way to approach them after their hearts have been broken. The lesson served me well five years later, when another last-second loss on opening day paled in comparison to a teammate’s catastrophic neck injury.
They won’t go down in history as a memorable team, but they’ll always be enshrined in my personal Canton.





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