When the rain comes

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Jets 6, Pats 0 (11/28/'93): It was a dry pre-game tailgate for the home opener yesterday. That was good because Mark and I arrived at the Enchanted Forest parking lot around 2 p.m. Surprisingly, none of the lots were open yet for the 8:30 kickoff. So we did a little shopping at KraftWorld and waited for another hour before we could fire up the first tailgate of the season. A great first tailgate was followed by a less-than great first half. Which was followed by a raucous Tedy Bruschi halftime tribute (the third for #54 so far I think). Just as Tedy finished leading his last "Ooooooh yeaaahhhh!!", the sky opened and within ten minutes I was drenched. Bad weather games are always fun. Well, snow games are fun. Rain? Not so much. Rain makes for the worst conditions for tailgating and football watching. Especially if you wear glasses. And if you aren't prepared. Like I was not, almost 20 years ago.

It was 1993. It was an ugly winter and the Patriots played some ugly games to match. The team was 1-9 through ten games, losing by scores of 38-14, 45-7, and 28-14 to name a few. I had given up my season tickets a few years earlier and had not regretted that decision one bit as I sat on my couch week after week watching the team get stomped. But there was a reason for hope.

The Patriots had hired Bill Parcells. The Tuna. A two-time Super Bowl champ with the Giants and one of the most entertaining SOBs to ever coach the game. As I used to say "Love him or hate him, you have to love him." The day Parcells was hired the Patriots went from bumbling franchise to a real NFL team. You could see the change almost immediately. Not in wins or loses. That would come later. But in the no-nonsense, my-way-or-the-highway approach. Players who had become used to losing were cut. Quickly. Veterans who had won with Parcells before were suddenly lining up to join the team. The Pats were still getting creamed week after week but there was someone in charge of my football team who knew what he was doing. Finally.

Me, Mark, Shep, Bergs, and a few of our friends decided to buy some tickets to see our saviour in person. The Pats were 1-9 but we were as psyched for the game as if it was the playoffs. It was Week 11 on the schedule and it was against the hated Jets. And Parcells was coaching. This was before Jets-Patriots became a holy war, but they were a division rival, they were a NY team, they wore green, they often sucked as much as or more than the Pats but received way more media attention. You know, New York and all. Beating them would brighten a dismal season.

As with most tailgating stories in New England, the weather would play a huge part in the fun. The guys met up in the newspaper's parking lot on a day that heavy, wind-driven rain was forecast. A forecast I had not heard. I didn't always watch the Sunday morning news in those days to see what the weather would be like. I haven't made that mistake again. I drove into the lot under a gray sky and walked over to Mark, Topher, Bergs, Brendan, Paul, and Tom Brady. Yes, Tom Brady. Not that one. This one worked at the newspaper and was the first Tom Brady I ever heard of. Of the two, he's had the second biggest impact on my life. Paul was wearing his EMT brother's rain gear. Mark had a heavy rain jacket. Shep was covered toe-to-toe in plastic. Tom Brady wore a hat and coat as if he was one of the James brothers in "The Long Riders." Everyone had boots on. I strolled up in jeans, a T-shirt and light jacket, sneakers, and a Patriots painter's cap. "Where's you rain gear?" Paul asked. "Is it going to rain?" I said. "A monsoon," Mark said. A half-hour later the monsoon had begun.

It was the first time I had been to Foxboro Stadium since I gave up my season tickets. As I stood there in the rain feeling the cardboard in the brim of my painter's cap turn to pulp, all the frustrating memories of the 1-15 season came flashing back. But so did all the fun memories. Foxboro Stadium was quite a different experience than what you have today. The stadium was located practically on Route 1 and the dirt lots spread out below it towards the woods. In the shadow of the stadium stood the old harness track Foxboro Raceway, a dirt track that opened in the '40s and was still populated by many of the people who were there for the opening.

We tailgated behind the track towards the woods, a place far from the stadium where security rarely roamed. We stood in the rain eating our wet steak sandwiches and burgers, some of us wetter than others. Tom Brady was from Jersey and this was his first Pats game. We tried to tell him what the concrete toilet bowl was like but we knew he really had to see it to believe it. As we were getting ready to go into the game, Tom took off his jacket and handed it to me. "This might help a little. I've got another coat," he said. Tom's about 6'4'', I'm 5'11''. It was a little big. But drier than what I had on. "But you can't have my hat," he laughed as he looked at my shrinking cap.

The Jets were 6-4 coming into the game so a Pats upset would be sweet. We figured a monsoon might give us a chance. We made our way through the rain and squeezed most of our group onto the bench in Section 309. We had the four seats on the aisle of Row 26. But we often fit five, six, seven guys into those four spots. That's one of the many differences between Gillette and the old stadium. Seats. That's right. Seats. My ticket now entitles me to an actual seat with arms on each side and a back. Made of plastic. Foxboro Stadium had benches. Long, cold aluminum benches with 38 numbers on them to mark your spot. There were about six inches on each side of the number. That was enough room for me but not for some of the larger Pats fans. Since there were no arms dividing the spaces people would crowd in with their buddies even if they didn't have a number on that row. We did it too. It could get pretty jammed. But not as jammed as the concourse below heading for the beers or the bathrooms.

The rain didn't let up as the game started. And the wind began to pick up. It rained in such thick sheets that some times it was hard to see the action on the field. The Patriots would make a play and the crowd would cheer. The rain would get heavier and the crowd would cheer more. Both teams struggled to pass, run, catch, block, and tackle on the wet carpet. The Jets hit a field goal in the second quarter to take a 6-0 lead. The rain got heavier. "It can't rain any harder,'' I said to Brendan. "It just can't." It did. I looked down at my beer and it was almost full. I was certain that five minutes before it was half empty. Brendan looked at his cup. It was overflowing. "Time for new beers," he said as we dumped out our cups of rainwater. Brendan headed down to battle the beer lines.

A long time later I saw him making his way back up the stairs as the wind whipped the rain horizontally. Brendan was wearing a plastic bag to stay dry. He put his head down, struggling against the wind and rain, gently balancing the two beers so as not to spill a drop. He got about five rows from the seats when the wind lifted the plastic bag up and over his head, covering his face. Brendan wrestled with the plastic -- while not spilling a drop -- and pushed it up and off his head. The bag flew in the wind till it hit another guy carrying up some beers about 10 steps below Brendan. The wind pulled the bag tight against the guy's face, so tight you could see the terror in his expression as he lost his balance and dropped his beers. Brendan got back to the seats, partly out of breath. "Didn't spill a drop,'' he said as he handed me my cup.

The Jets clung to their 6-0 lead late as Drew Bledsoe lead the Pats on one last drive to win the game. Of the fans who came to the game -- and there were a lot for a 1-9 team playing in a monsoon -- many of them were still there. Soaked, but there. Bledsoe move the offense down to the Jets' 30. He then hit receiver Michael Timpson cutting across the middle for a first down inside the Jets' 10 as the clock neared a minute left to play. Timpson tried to get a few more yards in the mud and got hit, losing the ball for a game-ending fumble. Parcells was 1-10. We were soaked to the bone.

We made our way down the stairs as the rain continued and began walking along the main aisle to get out of the stadium. As we walked along the aisle rained poured out of holes that were cut in the concrete. I never knew the real reason why there were holes in the concrete, but my guess was and still is that after the stadium was built someone realized that they had not designed a way for the water to drain out of the upper sections. So someone -- Chuck Sullivan maybe? -- decided they should cut holes in the concrete to let the water drain out. Right about head level for those walking in the aisle. As Tom Brady made his way through each fountain that hit him right in the face, he would turn and look at me. Finally, at the last gushing hole of water, he stopped and said "Nice stadium you got here, Tim. If I knew they had built-in showers I would have brought a bar of soap."

The Patriots went on to win their last four games that season. The foundation was being built for a new approach to football in New England. One where the team stopped beating itself. One where players stepped up and made big plays. And most importantly one where the head coach was really in charge. Just three years later we would be getting ready to go to Foxboro for the AFC championship game.

A few nights later me, Mark, and Shep sat in a bar talking about the game and our new coach. Parcells came on TV talking about the game too. He was saying things like he saw progress being made and that the young players were starting to "get it." And then he added: "One thing I want to say, to those fans who stayed for that whole game in the rain, they are my kind of football fans. We're gonna continue to get better for them."

Mark got a look in his eye. "If I go to the stadium tomorrow to buy four season tickets will you each buy one?" Shep and I said sure, but I don't think either of us thought he was serious. Several glasses of Dewar's can blur one's judgment. The next morning I woke up, still blurred, and another storm was raging, this one with a few inches of wet snow. I looked out the window and the ground was white. No way Mark waited outside to get tickets in weather like this, I thought. No way.

That afternoon I was at my desk in the newsroom. I saw Mark walk in the door, looking kind of wet again. He came over and put a stack of Patriots tickets down in front of me. "You owe me $350 for a season ticket," he said. I sure have gotten my money's worth. And then some.

For Pete's sake

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Pats 26, Dolphins 23 (11/23/'98): The history books say Pete Carroll lost his job as the Pats' coach after the 1999 season. Not true. Carroll lost his job in November a year earlier. I know. I was there. It was one of the wildest days on the aluminum benches of Foxboro Stadium that I can remember.

The 5-5 Patriots, coached by pumped and jacked Carroll, and the 7-3 Dolphins, coached by two-time Super Bowl winner Jimmy Johnson, faced off on a fairly mild late November night. It was Year Two under Carroll and things were clearly trending in the wrong direction. The Pats started off 4-1 but were a very undisciplined team and limped into the game against Miami looking dead. We could see the foundation that Bill Parcells had built slowly being eroded like a beach cliff under a Cape home. But on this night (and then the following Sunday) Drew Bledsoe almost single-handedly put the team back on solid ground.

We tailgated in nearly 50 degree temperatures, eating, drinking, and mocking Carroll's style of coaching. All rah-rah. Perfect for college. But it very rarely works in the NFL. You either have a dour tactician (Landry, Noll, Belichick) or an in-your-face motivator (Lombardi, Parcells, Cowher) at the helm of the best teams. Cheerleaders as coaches don't usually work out. And when a cheerleader replaces a motivator it usually spells disaster because the players are so glad the guy yelling at them is gone that they ease up and lose their edge. That was the '98 Patriots.

Besides our coach, the other topic of conversation that night was the announcement earlier that week that Robert Kraft had a tentative deal to move the team to Hartford. Hartford! In Connecticut! There was even talk they would change their team colors to match that of the NHL's Hartford Whalers. Green and white. Uh, those are Jets colors. Our team was sliding back into irrelevance and our franchise was moving to Connecticut. We were not in a very good mood as Brendan grilled up some tuna steaks in honor of the Dolphins. (You can't legally buy dolphin.)

Miami was led by Dan Marino nearing the end of his Hall of Fame career and coached by Johnson who spent most of the game pleading with the refs for penalties while Carroll stood around looking mostly lost. It was a back-and-forth affair. Bledsoe connected with tight end Ben Coates for a touchdown early in the game. In my book, the Bledsoe-to-Coates connection is still the all-time best passing tandem in the team's history. Coates would pull in nine passes for nearly 80 yards. But it was Bledsoe that was the story of this game. Hell, he was the story of that whole year. In the midst of a season where the team was disintegrating under Carroll, Bledsoe held things together by throwing for more than 3,600 yards, 20 TDs, and an 80.0 passer rating. Of course he threw many killer picks, but that was Drew.

Miami took a 23-19 lead with just over three minutes to go in the game. Bledsoe led the Pats from deep in their own end to almost midfield at the two minute warning. On a second-down play Bledsoe dropped back to throw and on his follow-through hit his passing hand on a defender's helmet. The Pats took a timeout and he came over to the sideline holding his hand and started to make some practice tosses to test it out. At the same time backup QB Scott Zolak (yes, that one) started warming up. "Zolak's coming in," Mark said with a tone of dread. "We're moving to Hartford and Zolak's coming in. The Parcells magic is officially gone."

But Zolak did not come in. Bledsoe, even though he would later be diagnosed with a broken finger, came back onto the field. And then took another timeout. He burned two timeouts without ever taking a snap with 1:42 to go in the game. He came over to the sideline and took some more practice tosses. He returned to the field, with only one more timeout to waste, and on 2nd-and-10 air-mailed a pass over Terry Glenn's head. He shook his hand some more and started to walk off the field as if he was coming out of the game. But again he stayed in and threw a pass to Coates for a short gain. Fourth-and-six and the Pats have to go for it. Carroll started signalling vehemently for a timeout. The players clearly saw him but ignored him and lined up to run a play.

Bledsoe hit Shawn Jefferson on a curl for a first down with 34 seconds to play. The crowd went nuts and Carroll shrugged and laughed as everyone in the stadium realized Bledsoe has just ignored his head coach. It was at that moment that Pete Carroll was no longer the head coach of the team. And everyone knew it.

On the next play, in the face of a corner blitz, Bledsoe let one rip into the left corner of the end zone that landed right in Jefferson's hands for a touchdown with 30 seconds left for the amazing victory. The stadium went into a state of delirium. Moving to Hartford? Not tonight! Beating Miami on a last second play. It was one of the best moments at the old stadium.

Bledsoe, broken finger and all, led the Pats on an amazing 26-play, 84-yard game winning drive. He finished with 423 yards passing. And as the game ended he ran around the field, responding to the roar of the crowd, pumping his fists and soaking in the moment. The next week, also at home, he played the entire game against the Bills with his broken finger taped to his other fingers, and again led the team to a last-second come from behind win, this time hitting Coates for a touchdown with no time left on the clock. He had many, many great moments as the Pats QB. But those two games in '98 were the two most amazing back-to-back victories that old Foxboro Stadium ever saw.

Bledsoe's career, and the team's fortunes, began to slide from that point as the Pats finished 9-7 that year and then 8-8 the next. Among all the sins of Carroll's years here, the biggest one is his ruining of Bledsoe. Parcells was tough on Bledsoe and that's what he needed. It motivated him. Carroll coddled him and his skills eroded. He was never Baryshnikov, but his footwork just got worse and worse until he become the most stationary target in the game. And then he took a hit by Mo Lewis that changed his -- and the team's -- fortunes. He left the field and Brady came on ... and hasn't left since.

There were a lot of stories in the media this week giving Carroll some credit for the success that Belichick has brought. There's probably some truth in that. But not much. Carroll's a good guy. I'm not sure why anyone wouldn't root for him. He did a great job with USC ... except for all the NCAA rule violations that took away most of his wins after he left. He is a very good defensive coach, as the Pats will find out today when they go to Seattle. But I still don't think he's a good NFL head coach. Sure, the Seahawks are getting better. But his first two seasons as head coach have ended 7-9 and 7-9. I'd be surprised if their record is any better than 8-8 this year. But my guess is that Pete Carroll would be pretty pumped and jacked if the Seahawks finished 8-8. That's his way.

The rain came down

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Jets 6, Pats 0 (11/28/'93): To quote Christopher Robin ... Tut, tut. It looks like rain.

Forecasts for this afternoon -- right about the time Tom Brady and the Pats square off against Peyton Manning and the Broncos -- is for some pretty steady rain. Rain. The worst conditions for tailgating and football watching. Especially if you wear glasses. And if you aren't prepared. Like I was almost 20 years ago.

It was 1993. It was an ugly winter and the Patriots played some ugly games to match. The team was 1-9 through ten games, losing by scores of 38-14, 45-7, and 28-14 to name a few. I had given up my season tickets a few years earlier and had not regretted that decision one bit as I sat on my couch week after week watching the team get stomped. But there was a reason for hope.

The Patriots had hired Bill Parcells. The Tuna. A two-time Super Bowl champ with the Giants and one of the most entertaining SOBs to ever coach the game. As I used to say "Love him or hate him, you have to love him." The day Parcells was hired the Patriots went from bumbling franchise to a real NFL team. You could see the change almost immediately. Not in wins or loses. That would come later. But in the no-nonsense, my-way-or-the-highway approach. Players who had become used to losing were cut. Quickly. Veterans who had won with Parcells before were suddenly lining up to join the team. The Pats were still getting creamed week after week but there was someone in charge of my football team who knew what he was doing. Finally.

Me, Mark, Shep, Bergs, and a few of our friends decided to buy some tickets to see our saviour in person. The Pats were 1-9 but we were as psyched for the game as if it was the playoffs. It was Week 11 on the schedule and it was against the hated Jets. And Parcells was coaching. This was before Jets-Patriots became a holy war, but they were a division rival, they were a NY team, they wore green, they often sucked as much as or more than the Pats but received way more media attention. You know, New York and all. Beating them would brighten a dismal season.

As with most tailgating stories in New England, the weather would play a huge part in the fun. The guys met up in the newspaper's parking lot on a day that heavy, wind-driven rain was forecast. A forecast I had not heard. I didn't always watch the Sunday morning news in those days to see what the weather would be like. I haven't made that mistake again. I drove into the lot under a gray sky and walked over to Mark, Topher, Bergs, Brendan, Paul, and Tom Brady. Yes, Tom Brady. Not that one. This one worked at the newspaper and was the first Tom Brady I ever heard of. Of the two, he's had the second biggest impact on my life. Paul was wearing his EMT brother's rain gear. Mark had a heavy rain jacket. Shep was covered toe-to-toe in plastic. Tom Brady wore a hat and coat as if he was one of the James brothers in "The Long Riders." Everyone had boots on. I strolled up in jeans, a T-shirt and light jacket, sneakers, and a Patriots painter's cap. "Where's you rain gear?" Paul asked. "Is it going to rain?" I said. "A monsoon," Mark said. A half-hour later the monsoon had begun.

It was the first time I had been to Foxboro Stadium since I gave up my season tickets. As I stood there in the rain feeling the cardboard in the brim of my painter's cap turn to pulp, all the frustrating memories of the 1-15 season came flashing back. But so did all the fun memories. Foxboro Stadium was quite a different experience than what you have today. The stadium was located practically on Route 1 and the dirt lots spread out below it towards the woods. In the shadow of the stadium stood the old harness track Foxboro Raceway, a dirt track that opened in the '40s and was still populated by many of the people who were there for the opening.

We tailgated behind the track towards the woods, a place far from the stadium where security rarely roamed. We stood in the rain eating our wet steak sandwiches and burgers, some of us wetter than others. Tom Brady was from Jersey and this was his first Pats game. We tried to tell him what the concrete toilet bowl was like but we knew he really had to see it to believe it. As we were getting ready to go into the game, Tom took off his jacket and handed it to me. "This might help a little. I've got another coat," he said. Tom's about 6'4'', I'm 5'11''. It was a little big. But drier than what I had on. "But you can't have my hat," he laughed as he looked at my shrinking cap.

The Jets were 6-4 coming into the game so a Pats upset would be sweet. We figured a monsoon might give us a chance. We made our way through the rain and squeezed most of our group onto the bench in Section 309. We had the four seats on the aisle of Row 26. But we often fit five, six, seven guys into those four spots. That's one of the many differences between Gillette and the old stadium. Seats. That's right. Seats. My ticket now entitles me to an actual seat with arms on each side and a back. Made of plastic. Foxboro Stadium had benches. Long, cold aluminum benches with 38 numbers on them to mark your spot. There were about six inches on each side of the number. That was enough room for me but not for some of the larger Pats fans. Since there were no arms dividing the spaces people would crowd in with their buddies even if they didn't have a number on that row. We did it too. It could get pretty jammed. But not as jammed as the concourse below heading for the beers or the bathrooms.

The rain didn't let up as the game started. And the wind began to pick up. It rained in such thick sheets that some times it was hard to see the action on the field. The Patriots would make a play and the crowd would cheer. The rain would get heavier and the crowd would cheer more. Both teams struggled to pass, run, catch, block, and tackle on the wet carpet. The Jets hit a field goal in the second quarter to take a 6-0 lead. The rain got heavier. "It can't rain any harder,'' I said to Brendan. "It just can't." It did. I looked down at my beer and it was almost full. I was certain that five minutes before it was half empty. Brendan looked at his cup. It was overflowing. "Time for new beers," he said as we dumped out our cups of rainwater. Brendan headed down to battle the beer lines.

A long time later I saw him making his way back up the stairs as the wind whipped the rain horizontally. Brendan was wearing a plastic bag to stay dry. He put his head down, struggling against the wind and rain, gently balancing the two beers so as not to spill a drop. He got about five rows from the seats when the wind lifted the plastic bag up and over his head, covering his face. Brendan wrestled with the plastic -- while not spilling a drop -- and pushed it up and off his head. The bag flew in the wind till it hit another guy carrying up some beers about 10 steps below Brendan. The wind pulled the bag tight against the guy's face, so tight you could see the terror in his expression as he lost his balance and dropped his beers. Brendan got back to the seats, partly out of breath. "Didn't spill a drop,'' he said as he handed me my cup.

The Jets clung to their 6-0 lead late as Drew Bledsoe lead the Pats on one last drive to win the game. Of the fans who came to the game -- and there were a lot for a 1-9 team playing in a monsoon -- many of them were still there. Soaked, but there. Bledsoe move the offense down to the Jets' 30. He then hit receiver Michael Timpson cutting across the middle for a first down inside the Jets' 10 as the clock neared a minute left to play. Timpson tried to get a few more yards in the mud and got hit, losing the ball for a game-ending fumble. Parcells was 1-10. We were soaked to the bone.

We made our way down the stairs as the rain continued and began walking along the main aisle to get out of the stadium. As we walked along the aisle rained poured out of holes that were cut in the concrete. I never knew the real reason why there were holes in the concrete, but my guess was and still is that after the stadium was built someone realized that they had not designed a way for the water to drain out of the upper sections. So someone -- Chuck Sullivan maybe? -- decided they should cut holes in the concrete to let the water drain out. Right about head level for those walking in the aisle. As Tom Brady made his way through each fountain that hit him right in the face, he would turn and look at me. Finally, at the last gushing hole of water, he stopped and said "Nice stadium you got here, Tim. If I knew they had built-in showers I would have brought a bar of soap."

The Patriots went on to win their last four games that season. The foundation was being built for a new approach to football in New England. One where the team stopped beating itself. One where players stepped up and made big plays. And most importantly one where the head coach was really in charge. Just three years later we would be getting ready to go to Foxboro for the AFC championship game.

A few nights later me, Mark, and Shep sat in a bar talking about the game and our new coach. Parcells came on TV talking about the game too. He was saying things like he saw progress being made and that the young players were starting to "get it." And then he added: "One thing I want to say, to those fans who stayed for that whole game in the rain, they are my kind of football fans. We're gonna continue to get better for them."

Mark got a look in his eye. "If I go to the stadium tomorrow to buy four season tickets will you each buy one?" Shep and I said sure, but I don't think either of us thought he was serious. Several glasses of Dewar's can blur one's judgment. The next morning I woke up, still blurred, and another storm was raging, this one with a few inches of wet snow. I looked out the window and the ground was white. No way Mark waited outside to get tickets in weather like this, I thought. No way.

That afternoon I was at my desk in the newsroom. I saw Mark walk in the door, looking kind of wet again. He came over and put a stack of Patriots tickets down in front of me. "You owe me $350 for a season ticket," he said. I sure have gotten my money's worth. And then some.

The other guys

The Patriots go to Buffalo to play as important an early season division game as you can get. A loss and the Bills will go to 3-1 and the Pats will fall to 1-3. There's a lot of football left to play, but there's a lot on the line in this one.

The Buffalo Bills are the other guys in the AFC East. The Patriots have had a heated rivalry with the hated Jets and the arrogant Dolphins for decades. No matter how good or bad those two franchises are in any given season it's always sweet to beat them. The Bills? ... eh. Even when Buffalo was dominating the NFL in the early '90s (except in the Super Bowl) there wasn't much anti-Buffalo sentiment in New England.

Why? Because the Bills' fans have been as long-suffering as Pats' fans were before Bill Belichick and Tom Brady arrived. And unlike the always annoying Jets or always cocky Dolphins, the Bills are always classy. As are their fans. And that's saying something with all the heartbreak they have endured. I worked with a diehard Bills fan for many years. She would proudly wear her white jersey with the big blue buffalo in the center as her team lost Super Bowl after crushing Super Bowl.

When I was a kid the Bills were O.J. Simpson. He would come into Foxborough and run for what seemed like 300 yards every game. But even with one of the greatest running backs of all time the Bills were never really a contender. It wasn't until Jim Kelly, Bruce Smith, Thurman Thomas, and the rest of one of the best teams ever to play in the NFL was assembled in the '90s. The K-Gun offense. Marv Levy telling war stories. A ferocious defense. The Bills dominated the AFC and went to four straight Super Bowls. It was an amazing feat. And I was rooting for them each time. They lost the first one to the Giants on the famous "wide right" last second kick and each loss got progressively worse. Never has so good a team left their fans with so sour a taste.

The Bills haven't been a contender since. They've had a few good seasons but seem to always find a way to lose. There was the "Music City Miracle" where they lost on a crazy kick return lateral on the last play of the game. There was even the game in 2001 where they took the Patriots to overtime only to lose when David Patten's fumble was ruled not a fumble because his unconscious head was touching the sideline when he dropped the ball.

Then they got Lawyer Milloy and Drew Bledsoe from the Pats and beat them 31-0 on opening day in 2003 and thought they were going to make another run at a Super Bowl only to see the Patriots return the 31-0 favor in the last week of the season on their way to their second of three Super Bowls. The Pats would go on to dominate the Bills for a decade. The Patriots have won 21 out of the last 23 games against the team from western New York. The Bills have managed to find lots of ways to lose to the Pats. Here's hoping they find another way today.

Red jacket day

Drew, Ty, Troy, Tedy, and Kevin. Some day they will all be wearing red jackets.

He goes both ways

Troy Brown becomes the newest member of the Patriots Hall of Fame tomorrow.

I voted for Bill Parcells. Twenty times. I will vote for him next year and the year after that till the Tuna gets to put on the legendary red jacket and walk into the Patriots Hall of Fame in the shadow of the Victoria's Secret at Patriot Place. Without Parcells there is no Patriots Hall of Fame. There is no Victoria's Secret. End of story.

But I knew he wasn't beating Troy Brown. Mr. Patriot. Mr. Two-Way Player. Mr. Biggest Catch in the History of the Team. Mr. Versatile. Mr. Clutch. No way he was beating Troy. I thought Parcells should have gone in before last year's inductee, Drew Bledsoe. That would have been the proper order. In before Drew. In before Troy. And Tedy. And Lawyer. And Willie. And Ty. In before all the players that he drafted and helped to mold. It doesn't matter that he was booking his flight for New York while preparing the Pats to play Favre in the Super Bowl. He started it all.

But Bill Parcells will have to wait.

The parade of fan favorites started last year with Drew and hit full stride with Troy. The Pats' all-time leader in catches got more fan votes than any previous hall inductee. Not a surprise. His record will last till Bruschi's name is on the ballot. Among all the great players that turned the Patriots franchise 180 degrees, Troy Brown is right near the top of the list. The most talented? Hell no. But arguably the most valuable. And, without argument, the most likable. Troy Brown always played the game with a smile on his face. He was one of those rare players who combined intensity with joy. It was easy to see, even from our seats high up in the old stadium.

There wasn't a more comforting feeling as a fan than seeing #80 line up on a third-down play. You think Wes Welker is clutch? Troy Brown should have had the word embroidered on the back of his jersey. From Bledsoe to Brady (Zolak doesn't count), Brown made diving, leaping, one-handed, sliding, you-name-it catches time after time to bail his QB out. He wasn't the biggest receiver. The fastest receiver. Or the strongest. But he was the smartest. That's what separated Troy Brown. He was a football player more than an athlete. That's what separated the Pats from the rest of the league. They just had more players like that than the other team. Every other team.

But only Troy Brown went both ways. Actually, he went three ways. Offense (receiver). Defense (secondary). And special teams (kick returner). And he went all three ways well. He is the only player whose highlight reel includes great catches, huge kick returns, blocked field goals, and interceptions. He was a throwback. Another player with great football smarts for Bill Belichick to get the most out of. Like Mike Vrabel.



Brown's highlight reel includes some of the biggest plays during the team's title run. He had many clutch catches in the snow against the Raiders. The following week he almost single-handedly went into Heinz Field and beat the heavily-favored Steelers, returning a punt for a touchdown and then scooping up a blocked field goal and -- as he was about to be tackled -- pitching the ball to Antwan Harris who took it all the way for a score. The Pats won that AFC title game 24-17. Troy Brown was responsible for 14 of those points.

An even bigger play, lost in the glow of Vinatieri's kick in the Super Dome against the Rams, was the one that turned a little momentum into one of the most historic winning-drives in NFL history. Brady had moved the offense with a few seat-of-the pants plays, but the ball was only at the Pats' 46 with a mere 29 seconds to play. Second down. An incompletion or sack here and the drive may have stalled and a dynasty may have died before it was even born. Instead, Brady dropped back with Brown in the right slot. Brady made a great move to slide forward and to his left a few steps and then fired a bullet to Brown cutting across the field. He snagged the ball at the Rams' 45 and cut down the left sideline inside the 40. A 23-yard gain. Suddenly the Pats were not just in field goal range, they were in good field goal range. And a few moments later they were Super Bowl champs.

There are so many great Troy Brown plays (and one pretty funny commercial). But the one that truly epitomizes Troy Brown the player is a play in 2007 against the Chargers in the playoffs. The Patriots were  scratching to stay in the game on the road against the 14-2 Chargers. Down 21-13 with just over six minutes left in the game, Brady and the Pats faced a 4th-and-5 near midfield. Brady tried to force the ball into coverage and it was intercepted by Marlon McCree. Game over. But McCree, instead of hitting the turf to end the play, tried to run with the ball. Brown, always a step ahead of everyone else (and three ahead of McCree), moved in quickly from behind and stripped the ball away. The Pats recovered the fumble and went on to score the next 11 points, snatching the victory away from a stunned San Diego team. The Chargers -- and especially LaDainian Tomlinson -- were never the same.

That play was rated the worst moment in Charger history by NBC Sports. The worst! That's just how great a play it was. The worst for an entire franchise. The best for Troy Brown.

That red jacket will look good on Mr. Patriot.

My favorite Martin

The NFL is handing out a few more yellow Hall of Fame jackets this weekend. Some greats of the game will be entering Canton. Willie Roaf. Chris Doleman. Cortez Kennedy. Dermontti Dawson. I'm not convinced Dawson is a hall of famer but the NFL has always inducted more players than the other pro sports halls. That should mean a few guys from the Pats dynasty get in. At least they better.

One guy going in the hall this year was not a part of the dynasty but is one of the all-time great Patriots. Curtis Martin. The greatest runner the team has ever had. If only for a few years. There aren't too many warm memories from tailgating in the '90s, but what few there are mostly involve Curtis Martin. No. 28.

Martin was drafted by Bill Parcells and the Pats in the third round of the 1995 draft. Martin would have been a sure top five pick but after putting up 250 yards against Texas in the opening game of his senior year at Pitt, he sprained his ankle and missed the rest of the season. His draft stock plummeted. And he fell right into the waiting arms of Parcells. It's not Brady in the sixth round, but it's close.

I remember going to the first game of Martin's rookie year at the old Foxboro Stadium against the Browns. Expectations for the team were high after making the playoffs in Parcell's second year as coach. A real running game was the biggest need. A few minutes into the season Martin showed that need had been filled. Martin took the hand off and cut to his left. The outside was closed off so he cut back against the grain -- the move that would become his trademark -- and raced 30 yards on his first carry. Then, with time running out, he took the ball at the Cleveland one-yard line and soared over the pile for the game winner. It was a beautiful late summer day in the mid 60s and I remember the post-game tailgate as being one of the best ever. We had Parcells. Bledsoe. And now Curtis Martin. There were a lot of smiles that day.

Of course Parcells, Bledsoe, and Martin proceeded to lose six of the next seven games and the smiles were gone. In fact there was a moment in the parking lot after a tough loss to New Orleans late in the year where I stood slumped against my red Chrysler Reliant wagon (Yes. I was one of the guys who believed in Lee Iacocca). Mark still calls it my low point of nearly 30 years of tailgating. But Martin was not the reason. He broke 100 yards nine times in his rookie year and led the AFC in rushing yards with nearly 1,500. Rookie of the year. Pro bowler. Future of the franchise.

Things got even better in Martin's second year. Although not right away. The Pats lost their first two games to division rivals Miami and Buffalo (turning the ball over six times) and suddenly the great Bill Parcells wasn't looking so great. And then Martin took over. He scored three touchdowns (one rushing, two receiving) to spark the team to a 31-0 win over Arizona. The Pats would only lose three more times that year as Martin rolled up 17 touchdowns and the Pats made the playoffs at 11-5. Then they had their first ever home playoff game. The Fog Game. One of the greatest days of football in the town that Kraft built. There were a lot of moments in the team's 28-3 domination of the hated Steelers. But none bigger than Martin's 78-yard touchdown dash through the fog. He added a 23-yarder to seal the game away in the fourth quarter and finished with 166 yards on the ground. A team record. The Pats looked unstoppable.

A few weeks later they would lose a heartbreaking Super Bowl to Favre and the Packers and a few days after that Parcells was on his way to coach the Jets. Martin stayed another year with the Pats but as soon as his contract was up he joined the Tuna in New York. Martin and I have one thing in common ... that I know of -- a love of Bill Parcells. Martin says the coach is his mentor and one of the biggest influences in his life. When Parcells left the Pats after the Super Bowl loss, it was only a matter of time till Martin followed.

Martin continued to build a hall of fame resume playing for the Jets. But Parcells, as he does, bailed on Gang Green after a few seasons and Martin spent the rest of his career playing for mediocre teams in the Meadowlands. But he never quit no matter how bad the Jets got. That's what made him a hall of famer. It wasn't his speed or shiftiness. It was his toughness, dedication, class, determination. Losing Martin to New York hurt much less after Belichick bolted the Jets and came to Foxborough to build a dynasty. But it's hard not to wonder what Martin could have done with the Pats.

Check out the highlights below. They are all from just one game in 1995 against the Steelers, the best defense in the league that year. The Steelers won the game, but the Pats' rookie put on a show rushing for 120 yards on 20 carries and catching eight passes from Bledsoe for another 62 yards and a touchdown. It was a hall of fame performance. One of many.

When the rain comes

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Jets 6, Pats 0 (11/28/'93): I keep leaving my sneakers out on the back porch the last few days. And it's poured every evening. My sneakers get soaked to the foam. They dry in the sun. Then they get soaked again. I picked up my dripping sneakers for the third time in a week and a memory of one of my favorite tailgates came flooding back. (Bad pun intended). Yes. It all comes back to football. Sorry, Dev.

It was 1993. It was an ugly winter and the Patriots played some ugly games to match. The team was 1-9 through ten games, losing by scores of 38-14, 45-7, and 28-14 to name a few. I had given up my season tickets a few years earlier and had not regretted that decision one bit as I sat on my couch week after week watching the team get stomped. But there was a reason for hope.

The Patriots had hired Bill Parcells. The Tuna. A two-time Super Bowl champ with the Giants and one of the most entertaining SOBs to ever coach the game. As I used to say "Love him or hate him, you have to love him." The day Parcells was hired the Patriots went from bumbling franchise to a real NFL team. You could see the change almost immediately. Not in wins or loses. That would come later. But in the no-nonsense, my-way-or-the-highway approach. Players who had become used to losing were cut. Quickly. Veterans who had won with Parcells before were suddenly lining up to join the team. The Pats were still getting creamed week after week but there was someone in charge of my football team who knew what he was doing. Finally.

Me, Mark, Shep, Bergs, and a few of our friends decided to buy some tickets to see our saviour in person. The Pats were 1-9 but we were as psyched for the game as if it was the playoffs. It was Week 11 on the schedule and it was against the hated Jets. And Parcells was coaching. This was before Jets-Patriots became a holy war, but they were a division rival, they were a NY team, they wore green, they often sucked as much as or more than the Pats but received way more media attention. You know, New York and all. Beating them would brighten a dismal season.

As with most tailgating stories in New England, the weather would play a huge part in the fun. The guys met up in the newspaper's parking lot on a day that heavy, wind-driven rain was forecast. A forecast I had not heard. I didn't always watch the Sunday morning news in those days to see what the weather would be like. I haven't made that mistake again. I drove into the lot under a gray sky and walked over to Mark, Topher, Bergs, Brendan, Paul, and Tom Brady. Yes, Tom Brady. Not that one. This one worked at the newspaper and was the first Tom Brady I ever heard of. Of the two, he's had the second biggest impact on my life. Paul was wearing his EMT brother's rain gear. Mark had a heavy rain jacket. Shep was covered toe-to-toe in plastic. Tom Brady wore a hat and coat as if he was one of the James brothers in "The Long Riders." Everyone had boots on. I strolled up in jeans, a T-shirt and light jacket, sneakers, and a Patriots painter's cap. "Where's you rain gear?" Paul asked. "Is it going to rain?" I said. "A monsoon," Mark said. A half-hour later the monsoon had begun.

It was the first time I had been to Foxboro Stadium since I gave up my season tickets. As I stood there in the rain feeling the cardboard in the brim of my painter's cap turn to pulp, all the frustrating memories of the 1-15 season came flashing back. But so did all the fun memories. Foxboro Stadium was quite a different experience than what you have today. The stadium was located practically on Route 1 and the dirt lots spread out below it towards the woods. In the shadow of the stadium stood the old harness track Foxboro Raceway, a dirt track that opened in the '40s and was still populated by many of the people who were there for the opening.

We tailgated behind the track towards the woods, a place far from the stadium where security rarely roamed. We stood in the rain eating our wet steak sandwiches and burgers, some of us wetter than others. Tom Brady was from Jersey and this was his first Pats game. We tried to tell him what the concrete toilet bowl was like but we knew he really had to see it to believe it. As we were getting ready to go into the game, Tom took off his jacket and handed it to me. "This might help a little. I've got another coat," he said. Tom's about 6'4'', I'm 5'11''. It was a little big. But drier than what I had on. "But you can't have my hat," he laughed as he looked at my shrinking cap.

The Jets were 6-4 coming into the game so a Pats upset would be sweet. We figured a monsoon might give us a chance. We made our way through the rain and squeezed most of our group onto the bench in Section 309. We had the four seats on the aisle of Row 26. But we often fit five, six, seven guys into those four spots. That's one of the many differences between Gillette and the old stadium. Seats. That's right. Seats. My ticket now entitles me to an actual seat with arms on each side and a back. Made of plastic. Foxboro Stadium had benches. Long, cold aluminum benches with 38 numbers on them to mark your spot. There were about six inches on each side of the number. That was enough room for me but not for some of the larger Pats fans. Since there were no arms dividing the spaces people would crowd in with their buddies even if they didn't have a number on that row. We did it too. It could get pretty jammed. But not as jammed as the concourse below heading for the beers or the bathrooms.

The rain didn't let up as the game started. And the wind began to pick up. It rained in such thick sheets that some times it was hard to see the action on the field. The Patriots would make a play and the crowd would cheer. The rain would get heavier and the crowd would cheer more. Both teams struggled to pass, run, catch, block, and tackle on the wet carpet. The Jets hit a field goal in the second quarter to take a 6-0 lead. The rain got heavier. "It can't rain any harder,'' I said to Brendan. "It just can't." It did. I looked down at my beer and it was almost full. I was certain that five minutes before it was half empty. Brendan looked at his cup. It was overflowing. "Time for new beers," he said as we dumped out our cups of rainwater. Brendan headed down to battle the beer lines.

A long time later I saw him making his way back up the stairs as the wind whipped the rain horizontally. Brendan was wearing a plastic bag to stay dry. He put his head down, struggling against the wind and rain, gently balancing the two beers so as not to spill a drop. He got about five rows from the seats when the wind lifted the plastic bag up and over his head, covering his face. Brendan wrestled with the plastic -- while not spilling a drop -- and pushed it up and off his head. The bag flew in the wind till it hit another guy carrying up some beers about 10 steps below Brendan. The wind pulled the bag tight against the guy's face, so tight you could see the terror in his expression as he lost his balance and dropped his beers. Brendan got back to the seats, partly out of breath. "Didn't spill a drop,'' he said as he handed me my cup.

The Jets clung to their 6-0 lead late as Drew Bledsoe lead the Pats on one last drive to win the game. Of the fans who came to the game -- and there were a lot for a 1-9 team playing in a monsoon -- many of them were still there. Soaked, but there. Bledsoe move the offense down to the Jets' 30. He then hit receiver Michael Timpson cutting across the middle for a first down inside the Jets' 10 as the clock neared a minute left to play. Timpson tried to get a few more yards in the mud and got hit, losing the ball for a game-ending fumble. Parcells was 1-10. We were soaked to the bone.

We made our way down the stairs as the rain continued and began walking along the main aisle to get out of the stadium. As we walked along the aisle rained poured out of holes that were cut in the concrete. I never knew the real reason why there were holes in the concrete, but my guess was and still is that after the stadium was built someone realized that they had not designed a way for the water to drain out of the upper sections. So someone -- Chuck Sullivan maybe? -- decided they should cut holes in the concrete to let the water drain out. Right about head level for those walking in the aisle. As Tom Brady made his way through each fountain that hit him right in the face, he would turn and look at me. Finally, at the last gushing hole of water, he stopped and said "Nice stadium you got here, Tim. If I knew they had built-in showers I would have brought a bar of soap."

The Patriots went on to win their last four games that season. The foundation was being built for a new approach to football in New England. One where the team stopped beating itself. One where players stepped up and made big plays. And most importantly one where the head coach was really in charge. Just three years later we would be getting ready to go to Foxboro for the AFC championship game.

A few nights later me, Mark, and Shep sat in a bar talking about the game and our new coach. Parcells came on TV talking about the game too. He was saying things like he saw progress being made and that the young players were starting to "get it." And then he added: "One thing I want to say, to those fans who stayed for that whole game in the rain, they are my kind of football fans. We're gonna continue to get better for them."

Mark got a look in his eye. "If I go to the stadium tomorrow to buy four season tickets will you each buy one?" Shep and I said sure, but I don't think either of us thought he was serious. Several glasses of Dewar's can blur one's judgment. The next morning I woke up, still blurred, and another storm was raging, this one with a few inches of wet snow. I looked out the window and the ground was white. No way Mark waited outside to get tickets in weather like this, I thought. No way.

That afternoon I was at my desk in the newsroom. I saw Mark walk in the door, looking kind of wet again. He came over and put a stack of Patriots tickets down in front of me. "You owe me $350 for a season ticket," he said. I sure have gotten my money's worth. And then some.

Our fate lies not in the stars...

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Jets 10, Patriots 3 (9/23/'01): In just a few days, Tom Brady will step on to the field in Indy to play in his fifth Super Bowl in ten years. I won't be there ($2k for a ticket. Hello couch), but I was there the day he walked on to the field to start what would become one of the greatest careers the NFL has ever seen. Brady is probably the most famous athlete on the planet right now. Not the most popular. But the most famous. It's easy to forget that if it wasn't for a twist of fate, Brady's career -- and my entertainment level as a Pats' fan -- might have been very different this past decade.

September 23rd, 2001. Just twelve days after everyone awoke to the news and images that are still hard to believe. The NFL -- after a week gone dark -- decided it was time to get back to the business of entertaining the masses. Me, Mark, Shep, and Bergs gathered in the dirt that was the old Foxboro Stadium parking lot in the shadow of the skeleton of what would become Gillette. Mark worked in Manhattan and was not far from the towers that day. He had to make his way through the new heightened security on Amtrak, meaning no containers full of pulled pork or any other marinated meat. We sat in near 70 degree weather and did what we always do... talked football to forget about everything else.

There wasn't too much to be optimistic about on that afternoon other than the weather. The world had been turned upside down. W. was president. And the Pats were 0-1. It was very early in the team's second season under Bill Belichick. The Pats went 5-11 in his first year and looked very mediocre, prompting Bergs to repeat that he thought giving up a first-round pick to the Jets to pry him free was a bad idea. It would be the last day he would say it. Drew Bledsoe was the starting QB and the face of the franchise. Although we were Drew admirers, we all felt that he had regressed so badly under Pete Carroll that he was painful to watch. Sure, we were getting a new stadium to replace the concrete toilet bowl, but all we knew about that was our ticket prices were sure to rise.

The game was preceded by a moving tribute to those who were lost that day in Manhattan and elsewhere and the emergency workers who tried to save them. Pats lineman Joe Andruzzi had three bothers in the New York fire department and he ran out of the tunnel waving two American flags and joined them at midfield for the national anthem. The crowd formed one, powerful voice in song. I'm not big on patriotic displays at sporting events. Fourth of July on the Esplanade? Sure. But a football game? Play the national anthem but spare me Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA." It's a football game, I don't care if you are proud to be an American. I felt very differently that afternoon.

The emotions of the day were soon channeled to football and a very hard-hitting game. The Patriots' defense -- with guys like Law, Milloy, Bruschi, Johnson, and McGinnest -- was starting to reach its potential and held Curtis Martin and the Jets' offense in check. Unfortunately, Bledsoe and the Pats offense seemed to be reaching its potential too. Its potential to be bad. With just more than five minutes left in the game, the Jets held a 10-3 lead. The Pats' offense had the ball just inside its own 20-yard line. We were finishing our last beers and hoping Bledsoe would find a little of the magic he had a few years earlier. Bledsoe dropped back to pass. He got forced out of the pocket and lumbered -- he couldn't run -- towards the far sideline. He got close to the first down marker and instead of running out of bounds Bledsoe, as tough as they come, decided to turn his shoulder and try to get that extra yard for the first down. Jets linebacker Mo Lewis was between Bledsoe and the marker.

Bledsoe was about as far away from my seat in Section 309 as he could get. I could still feel the hit. Lewis lowered his right shoulder and smashed Bledsoe in his left side. It looked like Bledsoe had run into a concrete wall at full speed. The entire stadium winced. Bledsoe went down hard. He didn't get the first down. He didn't get up for a few minutes either. The crowd stood silent again. Finally Bledsoe got to his feet as the trainers checked him out. Even from a distance you could see he was shaky. There was some confusion on the sideline. Tom Brady -- #12 -- had put his helmet on but it looked like Bledsoe might come back into the game. There was a brief discussion and then Brady walked towards the huddle and Bledsoe turned and walked the other way.

There wasn't a roar for Brady. Even those of us who thought it might be time for Bledsoe to go didn't want to see it end this way. But end it did. Brady took the next snap and -- except for 2008 when he got his knee ripped up -- he has taken every meaningful snap since. Brady went a mere 5-for-10 for 46 yards as he tried to drive the Pats to a tying touchdown. The game came to an anticlimactic finish when his Hail Mary pass was harmlessly batted to the ground. We sat in the parking lot as the sun set talking about the day. What if Bledsoe can't come back? Is that a good thing? Can Brady -- the kid from Michigan -- be a decent NFL quarterback?

The next weekend the Pats hosted the undefeated Colts. By that time everyone knew that Bledsoe had suffered a serious injury and that the young quarterback would be leading the 0-2 team for the next few weeks. The Pats stomped on the Colts that day 44-13. Brady didn't throw a touchdown and had just 168 yards passing, a number he sometimes breaks in a quarter these days. But he brought an energy to the team that was noticeable. He may have been a second-year player among a group of veterans, but he was clearly a leader.

Since then he has led the franchise to three championships and several very near misses for Lombardi number four. He gets another shot at it Sunday. He is, for me, the greatest Boston athlete in my sports-watching lifetime. I was too young to appreciate Russell or Williams but I grew up on Orr, Cowens, Yaz and have marvelled at Bourque, Bird, Clemens, Neely, Bledsoe, Pedro, Ortiz, and Rice. Brady tops them all mostly because he delivered what I never thought possible. Super Bowl parades.

But it isn't just that he led the Pats to three championships. It was the way he did it. He was Bourque, Bird, Neely, Ortiz -- and a lot of Terry O'Reilly -- all in one. He is simply one of the all-time greatest sports stories. Don't let his posing with goats or hiding from the paparazzi make you forget just how amazing his career with the Patriots has been

Drafted in the -- everyone -- sixth round in 2000, Brady was an interesting mix of raw talent and, as Kramer would say, unbridled enthusiasm. He had some great games at Michigan so he wasn't quite an unknown. But he was no Peyton Manning. He wasn't taken with the first pick and he wasn't able to dictate which team he would play for. I like Manning. He's a regular guy. His commercials are often very funny. Oh, and he's one of the best QBs to ever play the game. I've grown to enjoy watching him (when not playing the Pats) because he almost always does something impossible to turn a sure loss into a victory. Manning carried the Colts on his back by almost sheer will before he hurt his neck. I get why he is loved.

I don't get why Brady is not. I know, I know. Giselle. Cover boy. UGGs. The West Coast mansion. The hair. Bridget and the baby. That's the other side of Brady. Brady the football player hasn't changed from the moment when he was headbutting Bledsoe before the Super Bowl in New Orleans. He may be a reluctant celebrity, but he still looks driven to me. He still plays like he is trying to earn his starting spot. He still plays the game the way it should be played. All out. Manning was the sure thing. Brady was the underdog. Manning started out as NFL royalty. Brady started out as NFL working class. Today they are both future Hall of Famers. Who'd a thunk it back in 2001.

Brady joined a team that had a strong nucleus of veteran leaders. Some -- like Brian Cox and Roman Phifer -- were former Parcells/Belichick guys who were brought in to bring attitude. Others -- like Law, Milloy, Bruschi, McGinnest, Johnson, Brown -- were part of the '96 team that went to the Super Bowl and were entering the peak years of their careers. Brady quickly fit in with that group and almost always played with the poise of a veteran. It was a perfect marriage. Now all those veterans are gone. All of them. Brady is the link between what is quickly becoming the distant past and what is now the future.

Brady has made the transition into the second phase of his career ... the veteran quarterback. Not every player can do it. But Brady had good teachers in all those retired Patriots who are now on almost every football program there is. (How much does that drive the rest of the NFL-loving country crazy?)

Will Brady have as much success in this phase of his career (which he says he hopes will last several more years)? Belichick certainly has the Pats poised to compete for the title for the next few years. Ten years after the first title the Pats have gone 27-5 the last two seasons. A win Sunday could set the stage for another dynasty. You never know what fate holds.

Thank you Mo Lewis.

'Send the National Guard ...'

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Broncos 34, Patriots 8 (11/17/'96): The Patriots head to Denver yet again for a huge regular season game. It very rarely goes well out there. Actually, it doesn't go too well wherever the Pats play the Broncos. Denver is 25-16 all-time against the Pats. Tom Brady is 1-6 against the team from Colorado. There have been some ugly losses in those games for the Pats. Ugly.

I've been to a lot of great games over the past 20-plus years. They are the games that all Pats fans remember fondly. But I've seen some heartbreaking losses and been to some blowouts that had me daydreaming of the post-game hamburgers by halftime.

There was the game in '98 against Atlanta when the line getting into the old concrete toilet bowl was so long we missed the first ten minutes. By the time we got to our seats the score was already 21-3 Falcons. It was one of the rare games that our co-worker Ken came with us. Sorry Ken. There was the '95 game against the Saints that ended with me slouched up against my car in the parking lot after the Pats surrendered two touchdowns (69-yard pass, 66-yard run) late in the game for a 31-17 loss and an official end to that season's playoff hopes.

The Super Bowl Patriots had their moments too. In '05 the defending champs were in a great battle with the Chargers on a beautiful October day. The score was tied 17-17 at the half and Paul and I said something like "This team is just so much fun to watch." ... The Chargers outscored the Pats 24-0 in the second half. The lasting memory of the day -- other than the post-game burgers -- is Antonio Gates making catch after catch as he brushed of would be tacklers like flies at a tailgate. It was ugly.

But not as ugly as the ugliest game I have ever had the bad luck of witnessing. And of course, it was against the Denver Broncos.

The Broncos came into Foxborough with a 9-1 record against the Parcells' Pats and their 7-3 record. It was a statement game. The Broncos made the statement. By the end of the first half it was 24-0. Denver out rushed the Pats 198 yards to 17. The Denver D stuffed Drew Bledsoe, holding him to just over 200 yards passing and a pick. It was one of those games where the loudest sound of the day -- other than Denver running backs smashing into and over Pats defenders -- was the groans from the stands after almost every play.

We sat on the visitors side in the old stadium. Though we were pretty far up we could see that the Denver players -- especially Shannon Sharpe -- were mocking Pats fans as the score got higher and higher. The stadium emptied out after the score hit 34-8. At one point Sharpe picked up one of the sideline phones and got into an animated conversation. We thought maybe he was ordering pizza since the game was all but over.

It wasn't till I got home and turned on SportsCenter that I saw what Sharpe was saying on the phone. "Mr. President! Call the National Guard... Send help! ... We are killing the Patriots!"

There'll be no Shannon Sharpe making calls to the president today. But there will be Tebow making calls to God. I like the Pats chances this time around.

Happy Anniversary

BLEDSOE TO BRADY: Tag. You're it.

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Patriots 44, Colts 13 (9/30/'01): It was 10 years ago today that Tom Brady made his first official start as the Patriots quarterback. Ten wonderful years.

Me, Mark, and Shep had no idea that we were seeing the first win by one of the two or three greatest quarterbacks to play the game. Actually, since it was the first in the Brady vs. Manning saga, we had no idea we were seeing TWO of the best two or three quarterbacks to play the game.

It was a crisp 55 degree September afternoon. The kind of tailgating day you just can't get enough of. We crowded onto our aluminum bench in Section 309 ten rows from the back of Foxboro Stadium. It was the last year of the old stadium and the first year of a dynasty.

I remember how charged up the crowd was about Brady. The young QB didn't throw any touchdown passes in the Pats romp but he made several clutch plays to keep drives going. Plays that Bledsoe hadn't been making for a few years. I remember Shep yelling "Tom Brady! Yes! Tom Bra-dy!" all day long. All year long. Brady completed just 13 passes for 168 yards. The Brady of 2011 sometimes completes 13 passes on one drive. Things were different. The Pats rushed for nearly 200 yards on a whopping 39 carries. And the D (Otis Smith and Ty Law) took back two Manning picks for six. Brady didn't throw any interceptions. It was a formula for success the team would ride for years to come.

The Patriots rolled out to a 23-0 lead before Manning finally put Indy on the board. The Pats responded with the next 14. There was one big play after another. It had been a few years since the old stadium had been that loud. It would be like that a lot the rest of that incredible season.

Brady was asked what he remembered about the day. He said not much. Then smiled and said "It was a good game. We beat the Chargers."

Seems like I remember that day a little clearer than he does.

Back-up plan

DREW: Finally feeling the love.

The Hall of Fame induction ceremony yesterday at Gillette was even more enjoyable than I thought it would be. Me, Bergs and my nephews Pete and Steve joined a few thousand others to watch former Pats greats Jon Morris and Drew Bledsoe put on the red jackets.

Morris played before Pete and Steve were born. It was fun to watch them listening to stories about players who made $12k a year and played football at Fenway. The old lineman gave a great speech. It was easy to see that Morris -- who later did radio for the Pats -- is a genuinely good guy. As is the other former Patriot now in the Hall.

Bledsoe was certainly the man most fans came to see and he did not disappoint. He arrived with a bit of a movie star look -- crisp white shirt, black jacket, shades. He looked sharp. He took off the shades for the speech. He said his mother made him.

It was nice to see Bledsoe smiling and fondly looking back at his years as the face of the franchise. As he said, being a guy from Walla Walla, Washington he had no idea what it would be like to play in New England. "You take your sports really seriously out here," he said laughing. "I'm from Washington. We hike and ride our bikes." It was not easy for Bledsoe being the Pats QB. He was clearly in a strange land and under a lot of pressure. He almost always handled both with class.

There were lots of great moments in his speech. I took some video but never captured any of the really funny or touching moments. My timing with video is the worst. You could say I'm the Brandon Meriweather of video taping. There was one line that I really wish I had caught on tape.

Bledsoe thanked many of his former teammates. He started with his offensive line as quarterbacks always do. They kept him alive. Barely. Then he mentioned his receivers, tight ends, and running backs. Then thanked his back-up quarterbacks. The guys who have the thankless job of always being one step away from fulfilling their dream. Starting QB in the NFL. He thanked current Sports Blab personality Scott Zolak for keeping him sane while coach Parcells was screaming at him day in and day out. "Thanks for always having my back, Zo."

Then he thanked "that other back-up. Number 12." Bledsoe added: "He was a good back-up except he didn't quite understand that whole back-up part." It was the best laugh of the day.

Bledsoe then spoke to the fans: "Seriously. I hope everyone here appreciates just how lucky they are to be watching him. He is doing things on the field that are just amazing."

Bledsoe is right. And as always, he's a class act.

Drew!

TALES FROM THE TAILGATE
Pats 26, Dolphins 23 (11/23/'98): Everyone, me included, has been raving about Tom Brady's 517 yards passing in the opener against Miami last Monday. Was it the greatest game ever by a Pats quarterback? Statistically, yes. But there have been so many great games by Pats QBs. Of course many of them by #12 in the last decade. But before there was Brady there was Jim Plunkett. And one of my all-time favorites, Steve Grogan. Even pretty-boy Tony Eason had some great games. (No. Not Scott Zolak).

But the Pats quarterback who may have the longest list of great games? Drew Bledsoe.

He was the embodiment of the "franchise quarterback." Big. Strong. Gun for an arm. Great college quarterback. I'll be heading to Gillette with some of my tailgating group this afternoon for Bledsoe's induction into the Pats Hall of Fame. A great start to a great weekend of football. I can't wait to hear all the fans shouting "Dreeeeewwwwww!" He sure deserves the honor. I hope they have a video highlight package of his best moments as a Patriot. There were some great ones.

The great shootout game against Warren Moon and the Vikes. The Fog Bowl against the Steelers. And of course when he replaced an injured Brady in the AFC title game against the Steelers.  So many great games for #11. But my favorite Bledsoe moment is also one of my favorite Tales from the Tailgate.

The Pats #1 draft pick in 1993 is one of the players most instrumental in turning the franchise around. Like Tom Brady. Ty Law. Tedy Bruschi. Bledsoe deserves as much credit as anyone. He didn't win a Super Bowl as a starter but he jump-started a franchise with some of the most amazing passing performances of the past two decades. He was that good. And he was that tough. I was a Brady guy early on. Mostly because you could tell he had that undefinable quality that all great players have. His abilities have improved each year, but from the beginning you could see he was hard to rattle and had the knack for making the big play. Just like the quarterback who came before him. Bledsoe hard to rattle? Tough? As tough as they come. It may be hard to remember now after the way his Pats career ended, but on back-to-back weekends in November '98 he led the team to two miraculous victories. In the second of those games (against the Bills) he did it while playing with a broken finger on his passing hand.

The first of those games was a Monday nighter against Miami at Foxboro Stadium. Pete Carroll was in his second (and thankfully next-to-last) season as head coach. The Pats started off 4-1 but limped into the game against the Dolphins at 5-5. We could see the foundation that Bill Parcells had built slowly being eroded like a beach cliff under a Cape home. But for two nights Bledsoe almost single-handedly put the team back on solid ground.

We tailgated on a crisp winter night, eating, drinking, and mocking Carroll's "pumped and jacked" mentality to coaching. All rah-rah. Perfect for college. But it very rarely works in the NFL. You either have a dour tactician (Landry, Noll, Belichick) or an in-your-face motivator (Lombardi, Parcells, Cowher) at the helm of the best teams. Cheerleaders as coaches don't usually work out. And when a cheerleader replaces a motivator it usually spells disaster because the players are so glad the guy yelling at them is gone that they ease up and lose their edge. That was the '98 Patriots.

Besides our coach, the other topic of conversation that night was the announcement earlier that month that Robert Kraft had a tentative deal to move the team to Hartford. Hartford! In Connecticut! There was even talk they would change their team colors to match that of the NHL's Hartford Whalers. Green and white. Uh, those are Jets colors. Our team was sliding back into irrelevance and our franchise was moving to Connecticut. We were not in a very good mood as Brendan grilled up some tuna steaks in honor of the Dolphins. (You can't legally buy dolphin.)

Miami was 7-3 and led by Dan Marino nearing the end of his career and coached by Jimmy Johnson who spent most of the game pleading with the refs for penalties. It was a back-and-forth affair. Bledsoe connected with tight end Ben Coates for a touchdown early in the game. In my book, the Bledsoe-to-Coates connection is still the all-time best passing tandem in the team's history. Coates would pull in nine passes for nearly 80 yards. But it was Bledsoe that was the story of this game. Hell, he was the story of that whole year. In the midst of a season where the team was disintegrating, Bledsoe held things together by throwing for more than 3,600 yards, 20 TDs, and an 80.0 passer rating. Of course he threw many killer picks, but that was Drew. I've wondered how Tom Brady would do playing on a team like the '98 Pats. Someday I might find out. If he plays like Bledsoe did that year then that's a hell of an effort.

Miami took a 23-19 lead with just over three minutes to go in the game. Bledsoe led the Pats from deep in their own end to almost midfield at the two minute warning. On a second-down play Bledsoe dropped back to throw and on his follow through hit his passing hand on a defender's helmet. The Pats took a timeout and he came over to the sideline holding his hand and started to make some practice tosses to test it out. At the same time backup QB Scott Zolak (yes, that one) started warming up. "Zolak's coming in," Mark said. "We're moving to Hartford and Zolak's coming in. The Parcells magic is officially gone."

But Zolak did not come in. Bledsoe, even though he would later be diagnosed with a broken finger, came back onto the field. And then took another timeout. He burned two timeouts without ever taking a snap with 1:42 to go in the game. He came over to the sideline and took some more practice tosses. He returned to the field, with only one more timeout to waste, and on 2nd-and-10 airmailed a pass over Terry Glenn's head. He shook his hand some more and started to walk off the field as if he was coming out of the game. But again he stayed in and threw a pass to Coates for a short gain. Fourth-and-six and the Pats have to go for it. Carroll started signalling vehemently for a timeout. The players clearly saw him but ignored him and lined up to run a play. (Yes, Carroll was toast as the coach right then and there.) Bledsoe hit Shawn Jefferson on a curl for a first down with 34 seconds to play. On the next play, in the face of a corner blitz, Bledsoe let one rip into the left corner of the end zone that landed right in Jefferson's hands for a touchdown with 30 seconds left for the amazing victory. The crowd went nuts. Moving to Hartford? Not tonight!

Bledsoe, broken finger and all, led the Pats on an amazing 26-play, 84-yard game winning drive. He finished with 423 yards passing. And as the game ended he ran around the field, responding to the roar of the crowd, pumping his fists and soaking in the moment. The next week, also at home, he played the entire game against the Bills with his broken finger taped to his other fingers, and again led the team to a last-second come from behind win, this time hitting Coates for a touchdown with no time left on the clock. He had many, many great moments as the Pats QB. But those two games in '98 were the two most amazing back-to-back victories that old Foxboro Stadium ever saw.

Bledsoe's career, and the team's fortunes, began to slide from that point as the Pats finished 9-7 that year and then 8-8 the next. Among all the sins of Carroll's years here, the biggest one is his ruining of Bledsoe. Parcells was tough on Bledsoe and that's what he needed. It motivated him. Carroll coddled him and his skills eroded. He was never Baryshnikov, but his footwork just got worse and worse until he become the most stationary target in the game. And then he took a hit by Mo Lewis that changed his -- and once again the team's -- fortunes. He left the field and Brady came on ... and hasn't left since.

That's the other thing that Drew Bledsoe had. Class. When he was getting the crap kicked out of him playing for a mediocre team he took his lumps, kept his mouth shut, and kept coming out every Sunday battling his hardest. When he lost his job to a young QB who would soon prove to be among the best, Bledsoe kept his mouth shut, helped Brady get better, and by not stirring up a controversy played a key role in the first Super Bowl run.

I have a bulletin board in the basement with lots of ticket stubs, pins, stickers, etc. from all the Pats games. In the middle is the cover of the 1994 Globe's NFL preview with a photo of Bledsoe under the headline "A new era is dawning." A lot of things have come and gone from that bulletin board, but the faded picture of No. 11 still hangs right where I put it almost 20 years ago.

One of the good guys

Saturday, September 17th at Patriot Place. I will be there. And so will Bergs. Pete. Steve. And many of my tailgating group. (Ya. You guys are going).

DREW: Always putting the team first.

No. There's not an early season Saturday game at Gillette. (If there is a season at all). That's the day the team will induct quarterback Drew Bledsoe into its Hall of Fame. I may have voted for Bill Parcells. The Big Tuna should get in next year. But I was very glad to see Bledsoe win the vote his first time on the ballot. And I plan on being there when he is officially honored as one of the all-time great Patriots. I expect a lot of people to be there. And that's because he's also one of the team's all-time good guys.

Bledsoe is often the forgotten man in the success that started in the mid '90s and continues today. But for nine seasons (till Mo Lewis delivered that chest-crushing hit in the fall of 2001), Bledsoe was the heart and soul of the Pats. The face of the team. He was the No. 1 pick in the 1993 draft out of Washington State University. He was known as a big guy with a rifle arm. There was much debate about whether Parcells should take Bledsoe with the first pick or Notre Dame's Rick Mirer. Good choice.

He took the starting job right out of the gate. A decision Parcells -- a veteran's coach -- made out of necessity. The Pats were lousy and devoid of much talent. Bledsoe had talent. And then some. He had to play. Late in his (and the Tuna's) first season the Pats were a dismal 1-11. The team was showing improvement week-after-week but with four weeks left in the season the results were the same. Losing.

Then, in those last four weeks, something began to change. Bledsoe led the Pats to four straight wins to close out the year. In both the final two games the team broke 30 points, crushing the Colts 38-0 and knocking off the Dolphins in overtime 33-27. For the first time in a long time, the outlook was bright for the Pats.

But the '94 season started out with more mediocrity. The team stood at 3-6 and looked lost. The Parcells magic just wasn't happening. Then came the shootout. The Vikings came into the old Foxboro Stadium and jumped out to a 20-3 lead at the half. Parcells was staring at 3-7. Then Bledsoe put on one of the greatest passing performances in NFL history (no exaggeration) and the Pats rallied for a 26-20 overtime win that sparked a season-ending seven game winning streak and put the Pats in the playoffs.

That would be the first of many great Bledsoe performances. The team went 11-5 and made the Super Bowl in '96 and Bledsoe and the Pats seemed on the verge of something great. But then Parcells bailed and Kraft made one of his few missteps as owner. Hiring Pete Carroll. The Pats -- and Bledsoe's career -- proceeded to go on a steady downward path, bottoming out at 8-8 three years later.

Carroll was the worst possible coach for Bledsoe. He came in and treated Bledsoe as if he was a 10-year veteran. Bledsoe was entering his fifth year when Mr. Pumped and Jacked arrived. The prime of his career. He needed a firm hand (Parcells) to keep pushing him to get better. Instead Bledsoe's skills began deteriorating. Especially his decision making. Bledsoe's final few years were most memorable for him throwing game-killing picks. He still was one of the best in the game, but as a fan you were always worried he was going to make a big mistake at the worst possible time. A good coach could have helped him with that.

Bledsoe signed a monster 10-year, $103 million contract extension in March of 2001. A few months later he was walking off the field spitting up blood and he would never start a game for the Pats again. And yet, it was during this time that he made two of his biggest contributions ever to the team.

First, he helped mentor a young quarterback named Tom Brady even as he watched Brady take away his job for good. It was clear Bledsoe was very unhappy, but he never let it stand in the way of the team. He supported Brady during the improbably run to a Super Bowl title, a title that he had to believe he should be leading the team to. Bledsoe put his ego aside and stood by Brady all the way to New Orleans.

But not before he got one last shot at glory. In the AFC Championship tucked between the Snow Bowl and the Super Bowl, Brady and Bledsoe staged a role-reversal that saw the kid limp off the field and the veteran take over. Bledsoe led the Pats in their victory over the Steelers -- a team that had handed him some of his toughest defeats. He stood on Heinz Field holding the Hunt Trophy high over his head. Although Brady would return as starter the next week in the big game, Bledsoe was the face of the Pats for one last time.

Belichick wisely traded Bledsoe to the Bills the next year to avoid the inevitable QB controversy and he had some good games with Buffalo and later with the Cowboys. But it was the Patriots that he left the biggest impact. Putting a sad-sack franchise on his shoulders and leading it to big win after big win. And, most importantly, doing it with class.

We'll all get a chance to officially thank him come September. I'm practicing my Dreeeeeeewww! shouts already.