Trying to wake up

on this ice-blue Sunday morning - er, afternoon. Well at least the Patriots won last night in a 17-14 nailbiter (is there really any other kind of New England sports victory?), which means we'll do it all again next week at Gilette Stadium for the AFC Championship Game against the winner of today's contest between the Kansas City Chiefs and the Indianapolis Colts. My wife and I watched the game, despite the fact that I'm lukewarm on football - probably a result of all those frozen Saturday mornings in my nasty polyester high school marching band uniform watching our team lose week after week - and she can barely stand it at all. Mostly we use the NFL postseason as an excuse to eat, drink, and be merry. And with the home team threatening to go the distance, why not enjoy it? It's better than watching the Red Sox self-immolate year after year, like a certain South Jersey high school football team which shall remain nameless...

I can still smell that band uniform now - ugh, didn't they ever dry clean those things?

One of the remarkable things about last night's game is how much the cold didn't seem to affect either team at the outset. Patriots quarterback Tom Brady was making pass after pass, seemingly in defiance of all the experts who said that the subzero temperatures would doom anything but a running game. Players were nimble, plays were well-executed, and the only sign of the deep freeze's effects was a shanked field goal attempt by Adam Vinatieri.

Then the second half started, and everything changed. Hands got numb, passes got dropped, even the officials sounded sluggish (drunk, even - insert your own Joe Namath crack here) as they called the fouls. The fans suddenly discovered that it was bone-chillingly cold as well and hunkered down into a huddled quiet, saving their energy for something big to cheer. And considering the fact that the only points put on the board after Halftime were from Vinatieri's second and successful kick, there wasn't all that much cause for cheering, until Fate put the ball back into New England's possession with less than two minutes to go in regulation play.

It must have been difficult to try and bite those nails wearing thick woolen mittens. But all's well that ends well!