To the End

Everything was ready. We had bought food, but I went back to the store after church and purchased some more peanuts, a lime and juice oranges —for smoothies. A table with two large bowls of chips and four different dips enticed people to some last minute purchases.

Once home I made guacamole—and put it in the refrigerator so the flavors could unite.

We went over to Starbucks to get skinny lattes. No sense in turning on the television too early. Instead we sat downstairs, ate Halavah and sipped the latte. Anxiety over the game—would we win. Note the we. How many other Patriot fans inserted the editorial we into their discussions about winning?

By four o'clock the television went on, seats taken, and the talking heads gave their best guesses of what would ensue.

We began to eat. Guacamole and Beet chips. A strawberry, orange juice, and banana smoothie.

A vegetarian tofu dinner.

Finally, after all the second guesses, comparisons between corners, quarterbacks, receivers and on and on the game was only twenty minutes away.

Some more talk about legacy or repeating two years in a row.

Finally, they ran out on the field. The anthem was sung. The coin toss completed. The game began.

Ups and downs. Fears and exuberance. Then in less than a minute left in the game Wilson, the Seahawk's quarterback, throws a pass. It looks like the Patriots will thwart the catch, but the ball goes up in the air and the intended receiver is on his back. The ball hasn't touched the ground and miraculously he manages to catch the ball.

My heart drops into the pit of my stomach. The Seahawks are within spitting distance of the end zone and a touchdown will win the game.

All of Patriot nation moaned—collectively.

Wilson moves his team to the one yard line and he has four chances to get in. Twenty seconds left. I think every fan was hoping for something—anything. Then, instead of running the ball in, Wilson threw the ball.

Sound the bugle. Bring out the calvary. Butler, a novice, a non-drafted player, who attended a school that never sent a football player to the NFL, became Superman.

With the speed of light he appeared in front of the receiver and intercepted the pass and then stretched out as far as he could beyond the goal line.

Euphoria. But not out of the woods, yet. Then, as if on cue, one of the Seahawks moved and a five yard penalty was meted out. Brady could take a knee and watch the clock tick down.

All over Patriot kingdom the words "We did it." "They did it." rang out into the frigid night air.

What a night. And we ate some chocolate as a final and fitting sweet tribute.