The dish on the Bowl

One fan's guide to the Pats, the Pack, and Super Bowl XXXI

by Tom Scocca

The last time the Patriots went to the Super Bowl, I knew exactly which side I was on: the Bears'. I was 14 years old, and I had fallen for Chicago the year before, smitten by their valiant play as they lost to San Francisco in the playoffs. My loyalties were available then; my own true team, the Baltimore Colts, had just been hijacked in the dead of night by a thieving drunkard named Robert Irsay, taken away to some Midwestern boosterville. And even in defeat, those Bears amazed me -- they played a wild, swarming defense unlike anything I'd seen before, overwhelming the offensive line, breaking up plays in the backfield, tackling cleanly, surely, and hard. Then and there, I decided to put in with the Chicagoans.

Which was, needless to say, a pretty good call. The Bears bounced back from their playoff loss with redoubled savagery, and that next season I found myself rooting for possibly the greatest team ever to play the game. Week after week -- but for one Monday night in Miami, when their quarterback was hurt -- they mauled the opposition, the defense running rampant. Their march through the conference playoffs may never be matched: the defensive unit outscored both opponents by itself. The Patriots never had a chance; as far as I was (and still am) concerned, the Bears shouldn't have even let them score those 10 points.

But the Bears' reign in the league and in my heart was short-lived. Right after the Super Bowl, head coach Mike Ditka fired defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan in a struggle for control of the team, and Ryan became head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles. It was Ryan who had designed the Chicago defense, and so -- in support of him, and in solidarity with my father, a native Philadelphian -- I became an Eagles fan.

Oy. You miserable Bostonians, so ready to curse the cruel gods of athletics -- you should check out the annals of Philly sports history sometime. Ryan reproduced his Chicago defense just fine, with the help of astounding defensive linemen Jerome Brown, Clyde Simmons, and, above all, ordained minister Reggie White. But he couldn't build an offense to match, nor a kicking team; under Ryan, the Eagles thrilled, impressed, and never won a playoff game (which led to his eventual firing, and helped convince White to flee to Green Bay).

Pledged to an also-ran, I learned to pick and choose whom else to cheer for in the postseason. Most of the time, this meant deciding which team I wanted to see lose. John Elway snubbed Baltimore when the Colts drafted him, so I cheered against his Broncos. The Cowboys I've hated since childhood, and so I cheered against them -- and then I cheered against the Bills, for being so pathetically unable to beat the Cowboys.

But this year, for once, I get to abandon the negative approach. The Eagles were a washout again, but, to my surprise, Sunday's game features two teams I actually like, either of which would make an appealing champion. In a cesspit of a sport, burdened with mediocrity and racked by franchise relocations, the Patriots and the Green Bay Packers shine. Neither squad would ever be mistaken for the 1985 Bears, but each brings a distinct set of virtues to the big showdown -- as we can see in the following professional-looking point-by-point breakdown.

Offense

Both teams are led by quarterbacks who have an uncanny ability to go from schmuck to superhero -- or vice versa -- without warning. Green Bay's Brett Favre seems to lurch around the backfield haplessly and sling the ball at random, but he's secretly in complete control. The Pats' Drew Bledsoe, meanwhile, works calmly and crisply, but every so often does something mind-bogglingly counterproductive. Neither one is very good at not fumbling the ball.

At running back, the Pats are led by the boring but effective Curtis Martin; the Packers counter with a three-back committee anchored by the interesting but not-so-effective Edgar Bennett. Both teams have lots of productive wide receivers, of whom the Patriots' preternaturally fleet Terry Glenn is perhaps the best. Between Patriots giant Ben Coates and Green Bay's Mark Chmura -- and their respective backups, Keith Byars and Keith Jackson (both ex-Eagles) -- there are more top-notch tight ends here than in the AFC Central and West divisions combined.

On paper, it all looks pretty even, but the Patriots have struggled to score lately, while Green Bay has racked up pinball-like point totals. Advantage: Green Bay.

Defense

Linemen Sean Jones and the reverend White led the way as Green Bay clobbered all comers, but the Packers' defense has seemed careless and easily distracted in the playoffs. The Patriots, conversely, gave up points by the dozen during most of the regular season, yet have snapped into extreme-domination mode this postseason, allowing no touchdowns, forcing fumbles and interceptions, and playing as if there's an All-Pro at each position. Of course, they were playing the sorry Steelers while Green Bay had to deal with the 49ers -- but they beat the hell out of the Steelers. Advantage: New England.

Uniforms

The Patties scrapped their cheerfully ugly, AFL-era look a few years back in favor of a vacuously ugly, design-by-committee look: slanted 3-D numbers, jerseys with stripes woven in, silver helmet with flying-Patriot-head logo. The Packers wear pretty much the same uniform as ever, and it's a good'un. Advantage: Green Bay.

Boston-area supporters with ulterior motives

South Boston residents know that a win by the Packers could help turn the tide against a Patriots stadium in Southie. The Celtics know that a win by the Patriots could keep people from noticing how bad they are for another week or two. Don't cross Southie. Advantage: Green Bay.

Coaching

In a mere four years, the Patriots' Bill Parcells has turned one of the sorriest football organizations in the country into a Super Bowl team. Daily sportswriters kiss his two -- count 'em, two -- Super Bowl rings; the ones who can't reach the rings settle for kissing his butt. People who have no idea why he's nicknamed the Tuna (don't ask me, either) grin and call him the Tuna anyway.

And by the numbers, the fuss makes sense. In all his years coaching, Parcells has never had a team surrender more than three touchdowns in a playoff game, not even when his Giants were getting stomped by the '85 Bears. The sudden defensive fury of the Pats suggests he's doing it again -- making the 14-point pro-Packers spread a big temptation for Pats fans. (The Packers also have a coach. He's named Mike Holmgren. As if anybody cares.) Advantage: New England.

Home city

What's the Patriots' home? Boston? Foxborough? Providence? Bangor? (See "Ownership," below.) Advantage: Green Bay.

Religion

Reggie White once prayed an injured leg into playing shape for a big game. The Patriots were stung twice by Hail Mary passes in their first game against Jacksonville. Advantage: Green Bay.

Ownership

It seems to defy logic -- despite all Parcells has done for the Patriots, he just became the 11th head coach to lose his job this year. Why would Bob Kraft let him go? Because Kraft, like 29 out of 30 NFL owners, would rather have his ego stroked than win the Super Bowl.

The lone exception to that rule is, of course, the owner of the Green Bay Packers. Or owners: the Pack belongs to scores of citizen-shareholders in Green Bay. As such, it's immune to Bob Kraft (or Bob Irsay)-style fits of pique. Similarly, the town of Green Bay is safe from being blackmailed into building a luxury stadium, because the team can never leave.

For all his mealy-mouthed pronouncements about his devotion to Boston, that's a promise Kraft can never match. He says, naturally, that he wouldn't move the Patties out of town -- to, say, Cleveland. Ex-Cleveland owner Art Modell used to say the same sort of thing. Advantage: Green Bay.

Nagging unavenged loss

Broncos 34, Patriots 8; Cowboys 21, Packers 6. Not invincible, these guys. Advantage: Even.

Overall

The Patriots seem to be peaking at the right time, but the Packers have more soul. I predict that the game turns when Reggie White bats a Drew Bledsoe pass up in the air, intercepts it, and rumbles back upfield with it for an easy touchdown. Do the Patties hold on to beat the spread? Watch the game yourself. It just might be worth the time this year.

Tom Scocca can be reached at tscocca[a]phx.com.