Patrick:" February 5, 2017, the night the Patriots came back against the Falcons to win their fifth Super Bowl, was the night I realized I have depression. My wife worked nights at the time and I didn’t throw a party that year, so I watched the game alone with my dog. When the Pats won in overtime, I jumped off my couch, yelled something unintelligible and fell to the floor; I was amazed. I watched the trophy ceremony, then put the harness on the dog and took him out.
It was a clear night in Chicago, and as I looked up at the few stars I could see over the city’s persistent glow, I realized I felt nothing. I wasn’t happy about seeing a team I’ve loved two thirds of my life complete the biggest comeback in playoff history to win the Super Bowl. I was impressed by an objectively impressive feat. It felt like I heard that someone won the Nobel Prize in Physics. That was the start of a slide that would lead to denial, stupid choices that are best left unsaid, suicidal ideation, therapy, and, after about a year and a half, divorce. I’m much better now, but after 4 years I still associate this team with a feeling of emptiness. Not just because of that unpleasant memory, but because that’s what being a Pats fan is like now.
Every year, they do something impressive, but unsatisfying. In 2019, coming off another Super Bowl, they started the season 8-0, with an average score of 31-8. But every Pats fan I knew was disappointed that they didn’t shut out every team. Didn’t score 50 every game. Last year, in the middle of a pandemic, Tom Brady left, they had no receivers, half the defense opted out, and Cam got COVID in week 4, but they still won 7 games. We should be excited that a team with 2-14 talent went 7-9. Optimistic even. But no. There’s no joy left in rooting for this team. There’s just getting everything you want and still feeling like you have nothing."