The days of three-point-slinging Antoine Walker and accident-prone Bill Buckner are gone, and New England sports fans are experiencing a triumphant fever hotter than the warmest bowl of chowder. The question is: How will New England handle the pressure of being such a dominating presence in the sports world?
We do not fit in with ritzy New Yorkers, who, with their noses turned toward the sky, cannot even smell the mess they have made with their Jets, Giants, Yankees, Mets and Knicks.
We do not fit in with rough and rowdy Texans, whose big hats have since shadowed the days when their Cowboys danced on the graves of all their unsuspecting foes.
We do not even fit in with fun, sun-loving Californians, who would rather pump up their beach balls than notice that the Showtime Lakers have turned into the No-show Lakers, otherwise known as Team Kobe.
Our entire region is small compared to these massive states. We are singular specimens. There are no big hats, big egos or big beach balls in Rhode Island, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine. In fact, there are only two big things in New England: the Big Dig and our big hearts.
The Big Dig has been a bust, but our big hearts have never stopped beating. Even after numerous heartaches and heart attacks, New England's heart keeps chugging along, reminiscent of New Hampshire's Cog Railroad, slowly chugging along up the slope of Mount Washington.
Built on the foundation of Puritan society, New England is a hub of hard work and cooperation. We are the epitome of the blue-collar, working little guy who always unexpectedly leads a nation with a funny accent and a fiery temperament. We are the underdog, and we are meant to lose. But then, why are we winning? Most New Englanders, including myself, would say that it is fate. We have waited long enough for our glory, and it is our time to shine. This said, others, who are more realistic but soulless, might say that our late success is due to increasing monetary values and intelligent business transactions.
No matter what the reason is for our success, it has taken some getting used to. The bright lights and never-ending gossip columns are still an oddity to us. Manny Ramirez ties his dreads up and wears a suit when talking to the press, and Tom Brady is growing accustomed to seeing his face in GQ and other fashionable magazines.
Without the Walkers, Buckners, Dents and Bledsoes, who is there to keep us humble? Losing allowed us to chop our firewood with vigor, keeping our houses warm longer than the heat of a championship race. With all the greatness that is being thrust upon us, will we grow complacent, leaving our houses cold and our fireplaces empty? There is only one answer to this question: Go Bruins!
