Great game over the weekend, huh? Exciting, high scoring, basically zero defense, everything you can hope for out of a Super Bowl. All right enough funny business: let’s get down to our purpose. If I’m going to rub it in your faces when I’m right, then I’ve got to own up to it when I’m wrong. For those of you who have followed this blog and the Colin Kaepernick curse theory I’ve been cooking up for the past four months, you are aware that I called the game in the Patriots’ favor way ahead of time.

My reasoning, for those that are new to the blog, was as follows: the Colin Kaepernick curse means that until Colin Kaepernick gets signed to a team, franchise quarterbacks will continue to tear their ACL’s at an alarming rate, no back-up quarterbacks can win the Super Bowl, and Tom Brady will play agelessly. So let’s start by saying right up front, obviously, my predictions were not correct: Backup Nick Foles looked like Tom Brady and Tom Brady looked like, well, an older guy with a bad defense. Let me say right here, RIGHT NOW, the curse still stands. Yes, I am delusional. Yes, I’m a sick man. Yes, I hate losing. But what we have here is a battle of two curses. It makes perfect sense too, as the only thing that could upset a curse like the Colin Kaepernick curse is one that’s even more powerful, and that’s my curse.

That's right, my curse, my fault. I’ve mentioned my curse on and off for a while now, and dare I believe there are a few of them, but the curse in question is my curse that I will never my team, or any team I root for, win the big game. I’m a Chicago sports fan through and through, and at this point I’ve given in to the fact that I’ll die watching the Bulls exit in the first round, and that in professional football’s lifespan I’ll never see the Bears make it back to the Super Bowl. That’s not me being cynical, no that’s just a sad man who’s been broken too many times to fool himself any more. Now for those of you who are going to throw the Cubs and the Blackhawks in my face, here’s what I have to say: while I root for the Blackhawks, I’m not a huge hockey guy yet. When they play I enjoy watching them, but I’m always more occupied with football and basketball. It’s how I feel about Indian food! It’s delicious, I enjoy it, I have a go-to order, but I’d rarely not choose Chinese or Mexican over it. The Cubs is a legitimate challenge to my claim, and the only explanation for this is that while my curse is great, the Cubs’ curse was greater. There are few things more powerful than a 108-year-old curse that’s bound to break. That championship was a century coming, and to think that the miserable spell that’s overtaken my life as a fan could stop it would be ridiculous.

I needed the Patriots to win on Sunday: I needed it bad. I needed the Kaepernick curse to feast on Nick Foles’ juicy tendons more than a pastel-wearing cherub needs a purple hardboiled egg on Easter Sunday. I needed it, the blog needed it, Colin Kaepernick needed it, and that’s exactly why it didn’t happen. I don’t think I’ve ever rooted for the Patriots, let alone any team that wasn’t the Bears, as hard as I was rooting during the Super Bowl. I put my heart into their chests, my hopes alongside theirs, my blog ambitions with their visions of the Lombardi Trophy, and Colin Kaepernick’s fate onto their shoulders: I made them my team, and as a result, I cursed them. I cursed them with a curse that rivals all curses. The Patriots lost the big game by eight points the second I published that fateful blog on January 22nd. The Eagles could have fielded ten wheelchair bound blind guys and they still would have taken this game. Their talent had nothing to do with it: it was just written. 

Eagles fans, you’re welcome. Patriots fans, Colin, mom, dad, and so many others, I’m sorry. Again, it’s not my fault but also very much my fault. Never forget whose darkness is darkest. Never forget whose curse is worse. Never forget how powerful this blog really is. I did this.