Well, the monastery is all abuzz with anticipation of Superbowl XLII. We are the "New York-New England" province of the Capuchins, of course, so the Giants-Patriots contest means a lot fraternally.
When you're from Connecticut, like me, people always ask you what team you support, because it's hard to tell. Do your allegiances go south to New York, or north to Boston? For me, it's neither.
When I was a novice out in Wisconsin, everybody supported the Packers, of course. Go to the late Mass that cut into the kickoff, and you were likely to be alone with the priest, who has probably himself pretty annoyed. But I met one man, my novice master's father actually, who did not support the Packers. In fact, he rooted against them because they had once done him some injustice with his season tickets or something. He didn't have any team he supported. He was just a negative fan, rooting against Green Bay.
I'm the same way, but with the New England Patriots. People don't remember this, even some of us Connecticutians (to our shame) but back in 1998 the Patriots announced that they were going to move to Hartford. Personally, I don't believe they ever planned to go through with it (and our government didn't approve their taxpayer-built stadium anyway), and I do believe that it was a bluff against Massachusetts in an effort to get a new stadium in Foxboro, which they got.
In this elaborate bluff the Patriots used Connecticut, co-opting the beginning of the local news every day for months. And I'm not talking about a quick check on what was going on. I mean that this non-news was the news for months. All a joke. All manipulation. That's no way to treat my home state!
So, go to the Superbowl with my special blessing, New England. May you be shamed by sacks, embarrassed by touchbacks, and may all of your passes be intercepted. Amen.
And cheers to my novice master's dad, who is probably pretty happy today.