And so it begins. The endless, icy grasp of winter’s cruelty — a football-less void of nothingness and misery and stupid school delays. Everything is awful from here on out.
The Patriots saw to that. They saw fit to murder the Colts with a crowbar and a smile because why not? But Foxboro was rainy and boring and they had more time to kill, so why not annihilate the Colts even further, just for good measure and no real reason at all? Belichick shrugged; he didn’t much care one way or another. And so they dragged the mangled carcass out to midfield and beat it lifeless some more, this time with pillars of fire and off-tackle runs, simply because they could — and also because perhaps there were stray Colts molecules floating around that had not been obliterated. The Patriots were not keen on letting a single molecule go un-obliterated.
The destruction was so complete that it served as an immediate salve for our psyches, which sounds weird. It was so sufficiently obvious and inevitable that we all had the same thought at roughly the same time: this Colts team could play that Patriots team 100 more games and the Patriots would win 9,000 times. There is a good deal of comfort in that certainty.
And so we trudge on into the Indiana winter, a gross and gray existence for sure — but made no grosser or grayer because of last night. You were going to fall on the ice and break your ass-bone regardless of whether or not the Colts tried to catch footballs with their faces. Nothing changed. Winter is here. It was never not going to be here. Whatever.
Here’s to the 2014 Colts: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯