What's a Super Bowl without the Patriots?

I’ve gotten spoiled. The Super Bowl is on Sunday but I’m having trouble mustering excitement for anything but the possibility of some cool new commercials. After all, what is the Super Bowl without the Patriots?

It’s easy these days to be a loyal sports fan in New England. In recent years, the Red Sox have won two World Series, the Patriots three sets of Super Bowl rings. Just when their grips on perfection slipped just a bit, the Celtics stepped up and recaptured their championship and former glory. The Bruins and the Revolution also give us cause to be proud.

And we are proud. But why is that?

Certainly, we all like to be associated with winners. Experts call that “basking in reflected glory.” But even if our team wins, we can’t claim the credit. None but the most deluded of us claims that our loyal viewership, our yelling at the TV from our couches, has a direct effect on a team’s success. We can’t even claim that we were smart enough to spot something in the team we liked and knew it was going to be a winner. Rather, we were born to it. We are New England fans because we are New Englanders. (Ironically, very few of our professional athletes are from here.)

Identifying with something larger than ourselves is surely a human inclination. By why do we insist on it, even when our team is losing? After all, 1918 to 2004 was a very long stretch of maybe-next-years. Or is that just good old-fashioned Yankee—scratch that, Early American—stubbornness?

Team loyalty does seem to thrive here in the Northeast, powerfully and consistently, as it does in few other places in the country. Last year, I attended an Atlanta Braves game on a glorious spring evening. The park was nearly empty, with most of the concessions boarded up tight. A local’s explanation that it was, after all, a Monday night, seemed downright silly to the Red Sox fans there. After all, Red Sox Nation is populated in part by people who circle the day Fenway tickets go on sale months ahead of time, and then spend the day working multiple phones and multiple computers in a more-often-than-not futile attempt to land tickets at outlandish prices.

I might not understand why I care whether my teams win, but I do care. Prior to the 2007 World Series, I made a bet with a co-worker in Colorado, a Rockies fan, and delighted in her sheepishly wearing a Red Sox cap to the office for a day after we won. I made a similar bet with a friend in L.A. before the 2008 NBA playoffs. I was downright smug that my team had won.

I will watch the Super Bowl on Sunday, but with more interest in the commercials than in the game. As other Patriots fans know, football season has been over since December 28, when our team won the game but lost out on the playoffs.

So…how about those Celtics?

The Best of Times, the Worst of Times

It’s the best of time and the worst of times.

Tomorrow morning, I will turn on my TV in search of inspiration. I will be home alone but I will be joining millions of Americans—Obama, Clinton and McCain supporters, as well as people who didn’t vote at all—who realize that the inauguration of our 44th president is truly an historic moment. At long last, we have a minority president, something many of us had despaired of seeing in our lifetimes. At long last, we will face down the divisiveness and fear that dominated the last eight years. At long last, we will have a “decider” who makes the difficult decisions but does so with the benefit not only of a great leader’s intuition, but also of informed, intellectual curiosity and of the insights of the best minds, including those who don’t necessarily agree with him. This is truly the best of times.

Meanwhile, tomorrow morning, my husband will head to work—and find out if he still has a job. His company will lay off several hundred workers who will join the millions of Americans who are already unemployed. If he is laid off, he will likely be out of work for some 17 weeks and he will likely never regain his current salary level. We will have to figure out how—and if—we can continue paying our mortgage and two college tuitions. And we will not be alone. Unemployment has gone up every month for 13 months, reaching 7.2% in December, the highest in 16 years. We are entering the second year of the longest recession in 25 years. And every prediction is that things will get worse. If my husband is “lucky,” he will still have to watch colleagues and friends pack their belongings and leave the building for good, work longer hours to compensate for the missing hands and brains, and wonder how long until the next workforce reduction. Either way, his professional life will never be the same. In many ways, this is certainly the worst of times.

We don’t know yet what words President Obama will use as he stands on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Like Franklin Roosevelt, he will surely remind us we cannot embrace fear if we are to conquer our very real challenges. Like John Kennedy, he will surely call upon us to think beyond our own problems and work together for the benefit of all. And simply by standing on that podium and raising his hand, he will be a powerful reminder that there really is an American dream and that anything is possible.

It is not a coincidence that we elected Obama during this economic crisis. I am convinced that is what tipped the election in his favor. But it is the worst of times that summons the greatest leaders and inspires the very best in all of us. For that reason, I am convinced that this is the beginning of the best of America’s history.