Knee Jerk Reactions to Week 15: Patriots vs. Raiders

John Locher. Shutterstock Images.

Things to consider after December 18th, 2022, a date which will live in infamy:

--I may have mentioned this before, but not long after I left my old day job and started doing this for a full time living, a long time Patriots journ said to me, "I envy you. You enjoy this. All this matters to you. You care who wins and loses. I'm just interested in covering a good story." At the time, I remember thinking that if I ever get to the point where I feel that jaded, I'll just want someone to cover me in dirt and put me out of my misery. But today? I envy him. Or anyone who didn't suffer through this genocide of wrong. I'd love nothing more than to detach the emotional coupling, jettison the pod of caring, and set it adrift into the great void of indifference. Anything to not have to endure the abject humiliation of blowing this game - this season, to be sure - in this manner. 

--The Patriots, and by association Patriots fans, have spent all of the 21st century being the object of hate and scorn. We didn't ask for that role, but we embraced it nevertheless. If that was going to be their reaction to two decades of unprecedented success, so be it. The Pats would keep winning and New Englanders would turn up in droves to turn places like Allegiant Stadium into home games, turning the town into Mass Vegas, and playing the role of Wrestling Heel to perfection. They hated us, but they couldn't get enough of us. They tuned in just to root for us to lose. And so when we lost a big, significant game, they bathed in our blood. It came with the territory. The Patriots didn't have the luxury of meaningless losses. The stakes were always high and it was glorious.

--But now? Now we're just a 19th century circus freak. The kind people used to pay a carnival barker two-bits to go into a back tent to get a gander at. Come one! Come all! Step right up to see Gadget Play Man! This victim of cruel nature so deranged he threw a ball to his opponent with no time left in a tie game! See him now, for his kind will pass this way but once! One summer in high school we had a huge infestation of Gypsy Moths. And there was one kid who would eat the gross, fat, hairy, green slime-filled buggers if you gave him a dollar. After people got bored with his act and stopped paying, he would eat the things just for attention. I was less embarrassed for him than I am for everyone associated with the 2022 Patriots today. That's how bad this is. 

--The thing is, part of me has always believed that the Dynasty Era was the universe correcting itself after this franchise spent its first 40 years scraping the bottom of the barrel. Perpetually broke. Playing in the worse facility in all of pro sports. Constantly in rebuilding mode. The few times they'd have some success, it would vanish in a flash. Disappearing in a cloud of drug scandals or head coaches quitting on them. So going from Loser to Champion, Irrelevant to Hyper-Relevant felt like some vast, cosmic evening out. Looking at the last four seasons, it feels more like those 20 years of greatness was a deal we signed in blood in Satan's book, and now the bill is coming due. The Father of Lies gave us all those Super Bowls, and the vig he charged is so high, a loss like yesterday's doesn't even pay down the principle. It just keeps us even. So to pay it down, the King of the Bottomless Pit is going to keep sending us to the Ironic Punishment Division for eternity:

Giphy Images.

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And there's not a damned thing we can do about it. 

--This is one of those moments where you find yourself questioning you loyalties, as well as your life choices. Personally I've been reevaluating the drawers filled with Patriots merchandise, including the Barstool Bill Belichick Ugly Sweater I was wearing for this one, and wondering if I'll break them out the rest of the season. Like maybe it's time to demoted them to the Snow Removal/Yard Work wardrobe until further notice. That's how much this year's edition of this team is breaking my will.

--I don't even know how deep to dive into the Xs & Os in order to figure out how the Pats ended up on the tail end of the Human Centipede in this debacle. For now, let's just focus on the fact the final play Matt Patricia dialed up instead of simply running four verticals, chucking it deep and hoping for reception, defensive penalty or harmless incompletion - stupid, nonsensical, wrongheaded, idiotic, imbecilic and ill-conceived though it was - didn't cost them the game. It merely finished the job they had been working on for the previous 59:57.

--Let's begin by rewinding just a little. To the Two Minute Warning, to be exact. They had the Raiders at 4th & 10, needing to go 81 yards without any time outs, to tie the game. And that's precisely what they did. And frankly, not only were the Pats not unlucky there  they were fortunate it took Las Vegas that long to score. On the Raiders final two possessions, up 24-17 in a situation where you should play a soft Cover-2, -3 or even -4 shell, play "wider than widest" and "deeper than deepest" and trade yards for seconds, Jonathan Jones got beat twice by Mack Hollins. Once lucking out once on a Derek Carr overthrow with Hollins two strides ahead of him, and again on 3rd down when Jones was playing the ball instead of the man, and it went through Hollins's fingers while Jones was under him trying to grab his sloppy seconds. Then among Carr's four completions on his final five attempts was Hollins being allowed to get out of bounds, a 20 yard completion to Darren Waller, and the touchdown. Which even fate had a hand in:

To be clear, there is no way Keelan Cole was in bounds. He would have to have a foot like Tom Dempsey not to have stepped stepped on the white, and they test for that sort of thing at the Combine. But the fact they flexed the game so we had to rely on Fox's shitastic, non-conclusive camera angles is just a microcosm of this entire season. The entire time they were reviewing it, you knew the touchdown would stand. That is, if you've been paying even the slightest bit of attention all year. And that's not because the officials are against them or never getting the breaks or bad luck, because:

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… it's the residue of their own failings. Their own lack of attention to details, their own absence of situational awareness, their own inability to avoid mistakes and capitalize on the opposition's mistakes. 

--I mean, how many times did Las Vegas try to give this game away, only to have the Patriots treat it like the gag gift nobody wants at the Yankee Swap? The aforementioned missed passes to wide open receivers just before the Two Minute Warning. Thirteen penalties for 90 yards. The most significant of which was a pass interference that gave the Pats a 1st & goal at the Raiders 2. And here's what they did with it:

• Rhamondre Stevenson inside zone run stuffed for 1 yard.
• Mac Jones sails one over Jonnu Smith on a corner route
• A timeout negates a touchdown to Jakobi Meyers while Jones directs a tirade at Matt Patricia
• Nelson Agholor broken up at the goal line
• Another timeout because the play clock is about to run out, followed by another Mac tirade
• A false start on Smith who was busy looking around pointing during the snap negates Jones's touchdown
• Field goal

Yet another disastrous red zone performance. Against a barely functioning red zone defense. One we learned had given up 14 straight touchdowns on goal-to-go situations inside their own 5. But this Patriots team found six different ways not to punch it in from 2 yards out. Including Patricia subbing out Stevenson, his most reliable offensive weapon all season long, in favor of Marcus Jones, a 5-foot-8, 185 pound rookie cornerback. Twice. One can only assume that was because Patricia is overthinking it. Trying to throw the defense off balance instead of playing to his strengths. Getting cute instead of being pragmatic, in ways he couldn't back when he was designing submarines or whatever. In other words, trying to be the smartest man in the dome, rather than keeping it simple and daring a defense that's bad at stopping teams to stop you. And in doing so, stopping yourself for them. 

--So every trip to the red zone for this team is the tunnel in an ancient temple where Indiana Jones has to solve an elaborate series of riddles and deadly booby traps in order to find the golden 6-point idol at the end. Add to that the fact the Pats were 2-of-13 on 3rd downs, and it's obvious we're now sitting next to our Christmas trees watching this team struggle with the exact same issues they had when we were watching with our AC's on high. Nothing has changed since the preseason games. There's been no improvement. You could use Patricia's learning curve as a level for hanging pictures on your wall. There was yet another Delay of Game penalty and a timeout was needed to prevent another. He and Mac Jones have all the communication of the dad and son in an anti-drugs PSA:

--All of which makes it impossible for anyone to polish the turd that has been this whole experiment to put Patricia in charge of an NFL offense. My biggest regret is that I didn't get in on the ground floor of believing this would never work out. But then again, that line formed quickly and stretched around the block. There were football media people camping out on the sidewalk to be the first to say what a disaster this would be. And they were right. While I chose to put my faith in Patricia's ability to figure it out. Or more to the point, I put my faith in Belichick's faith in Patricia's ability to figure it out. We were both wrong. At this point, I'm convinced that if you put Matty P in an underground shelter with all the food and water he'd need and let him do nothing but focus on learning how to be an OC for the next five years with no distractions, when he emerged, he wouldn't have a single play design that involves a pass to an open receiver in the end zone. Some people just don't have that gift. He would though, have drawn up 100 new ways to run a draw play on 3rd & 15. None of which would work any better than the one he called on the Raiders 33 that ended a 12-play, 69-yard, 6 1/2 minute possession with a field goal. 

--For the record, is there a person in America stealing a paycheck to the extent Dean Blandino does? Of all the Masters of the Obvious, he is simultaneously the most masterful and the most obvious. The He-Man to that Obvious Universe. With everyone in New England - and the 60% of the crowd sporting Patriots jerseys - with their disembodied souls hovering above looking down at themselves - they bring him on to let us know "The issue is whether or not Cole got his left foot in bounds. If any part of it touches the white, it's not a catch. However, it must be conclusive." How is he necessary? What does he contribute? When I'm having a Near Death Experience, I don't need the hospital to bring a guy into the ER to say, "The question is whether or not the surgeons can keep your vital organs going so that you can stay alive."  on that one, the Pats barely got the snap off as well. 

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--I'm in no mood to look for bright spots. Inside this dark cloud I want to find a lining that is just more dark cloud. But if I was looking for silver linings, I would look as far away as possible from Nelson Agholor. Not long ago he was charged with a fumble, and when the call was reversed I said it's because he can't fumble what he can't catch. Yesterday he caught a perfectly placed Mac Jones pass along the boundary for 32 yards. And before Josh McDaniels threw the challenge flag, I just knew with certitude he had to have stepped out. Like with the fumble, you didn't even need a replay. Because he is physically, morally, existentially incapable of making a play. He got PBU'ed on that goal line stand, and again in the 4th quarter by Amik Robinson, leading to a 3 & out. Because the only 50/50 balls with Agholor are the ones where he's wide open. And that doesn't happen often. On the day, he had one catch on six targets, "good" for 3 yards. At this point, I'd be in favor of replacing him with any given defensive back named Jones. Dealer's choice.

--Again, if I were predisposed to looking for positives, I could go with Marcus Jones. For the second straight week, he led the defense in snaps, this time playing all 68. He also drew the opponent's WR1 once again, and took Davante Adams out of the game as much as Adams gets taken out of games (4 catches on 9 targets and 28 yards). But then again, that's him not sufficiently getting Cole's big toe out of bounds:

And like with Figure Skating, the judging rules require a deduction for giving up a game-tying miracle touchdown.

--Before that holocaust of a final series of events, I was also ready to pen a glowing paragraph about Conor McDermott, anchoring the right tackle spot and hitting the Mute button on Maxx Crosby all game. But then with a chance to pick up a 1st down or two and bleed the clock dry, he committed a false start and turned a 3rd & makeable into a 3rd & 11. Long term, maybe he's the solution to a major problem on that side. But now is not the time for hope and optimism. 

--The damned thing is this wasted another very solid outing from Steve B's defense. Playing a base 30-front with mostly Davon Godchaux at the nose and Christian Barmore and Lawrence Guy at 5-tech tackles, they plugged Josh Jacobs's inside rush lanes (aside from one 18 yarder) and forced Carr to the air. Which would've been good enough for any above average team that didn't have its name in blood in the King of Worms' book. 

--And of course, Kyle Dugger should be getting celebrated for the ridiculous, quick-twitch athleticism it took to anticipate this throw without tipping off the fact he was anticipating this throw:

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Instead, it's just a footnote to history. Lost in the shadow of the Jakobi Meyers-to-Chandler Jones touchdown connection.

--This Week's Applicable Movie Quote (tie):

"Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving! Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas! No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye! And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse!"

"Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people, and I want him brought right here! With a big ribbon on his head! And I want to look him straight in the eye, and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?"

- Clark Griswold, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

--Thanks for reading this long. If you've stuck with me this far, please indulge me a little further because I have to end this on a personal note. Saturday the Weymouth guys I've grown up with and are still friends with to this day lost a great friend, who succumbed to a host of illnesses. I had mentioned him here before. He's Brink, the one who was best friends with our buddy Killa in this story:

As a testament to Brink, I'll tell you a quick story. Tuesday a bunch of us went to visit him at his family home where he was under hospice care. After we were at our friend Jake's house and someone said, "Who here had Brink in their wedding party?" Out of seven of us, six hands went up, including mine. I have a text he sent me last Christmas, before he got sick. It was him wearing a Barstool sweatshirt he had gotten as a gift. No friend has ever been more supportive of anything than he was of this little project of mine. I love him and will miss him dearly.

On a positive note, he didn't have to watch this Patriots game. Sorry, but he would've liked that joke. Godspeed, my friend. Be at peace.