The Patriots dynasty is dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

In the deepest recesses of your mind, even the hardcore Patriot fan knows it's over.

I grew up in Northern Maine.

Sitting in the living room with my grandfather and my father watching Patriots games, watching them lose more than they won.

And I know it's over. So I take no joy in being the first to say that it's over,

but I am a reasonable person of sound mind and body who tries to

consume and analyze football from a rational perspective in a rational person a

rational fan like myself knows it's over but it is over there are

32 teams in the NFL and I'm not sure I'll see the Patriots back in the Super Bowl at any

point in my lifetime because once a dynasty ends you never know when you will

see if you will see another Super Bowl appearance you just don't know I don't take these

Super Bowls for granted. It's difficult as a Patriots fan because

we've been conditioned to expect Super Bowl appearances, but I do not take them for granted.

That's part of the rational thought process. 32 teams.

Some of them have never been to the Super Bowl, like the Jacksonville Jaguars.

Some of them have never won a Super Bowl, like the Minnesota Vikings and the LA Chargers.

We witnessed the end on Sunday and it was one of the most bittersweet moments in my life because

I have an affinity for the Patriots.

I respect that franchise for its excellence and I still harbor a nostalgic adoration for the team, for the logo, for the Jersey, for everything everything Patriots and even though Tom Brady has become a

complete weirdo dressing in a full-length pea coat and Andy Warhol's sunglasses inside as he walked the tunnel to the locker room, producing bizarre

documentaries where he's calling his son back over to a table in which he's being massaged

for a lingering mouth kiss that sent a shiver down my spine and yet I still adore Tom Brady.

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