So, since everybody knows that 19-0 is inevitable, the Patriots and the city of Boston have scheduled the victory parade. As the people involved are mental giants of the first order, they have scheduled this parade for the Tuesday following the Super Bowl. That day just happens coincide with Super Tuesday, when Massachusetts voters are supposed to turn out for their presidential primaries.

After all, any Patriots fan who comes out of the inevitable festivities too intoxicated or otherwise impaired to do their civic duty is probably doing the Republic, if not the world, a favor. God knows, enough morons vote, what's twenty or thirty thousand nitwits when 20 or 20 million will vote on Super Tuesday? Who knows, maybe a lower than normal turnout in Massachusetts will finish off Mitt Romney. At this point, with the way he's come back from being written off in this election season, I'd believe it if Mitt ended up starring in a cheesy horror film (to paraphrase the Johnathan Winters character from It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World)

I am not one of those people who will complain that the victory parade shouldn't conflict with the electoral process. After all, Tuesday is the only day it could possibly happen. It's just too short a turn around to expect the players to undergo a strenuous public appearance on Monday after the game is played Sunday evening in Arizona. Imagine the jet lag.

As for Wednesday, or a date thereafter... it simply can't work because eight Patriots have to go to the Pro Bowl which is to be played in Hawaii the Sunday after the Super Bowl. Now most people don't think Pro Bowl practices are critical, what with the fact that defenses are restricted in the sorts of schemes they can run and are forbidden to blitz. So there really shouldn't be much game planning, right?

Unfortunately, when you deal with vast intellects like the ones exhibited when Brady, Light, Vrabel et al. take center stage, even a Pro Bowl game plan starts to look like nuclear physics. And for my part, I'd hate to think that these Patriots might miss even one public appearance in Hawaii for the sake of a public appearance in Boston. Imagine what the harsh New England winter weather could do to Gisele's hair. The horror, the horror...as Kurtz would say.

This impending victory parade could be the first local appearance for Brady and Gisele after their engagement. Rumor has it, Brady has promised to spring for an engagement ring for Gisele if (when) the Patriots win the Super Bowl. Granted, the rumor originated in the National Enquirer so we have to take it with a grain of salt.

But my question is, what happens in the extremely unlikely the event of a miraculous upset? If the Giants win, what does Gisele get? A promise ring? A tennis braclet? One of those diamond heart pendants from Zales that will be advertised to death before Valentine's Day? Or does Tom have the backbone to give her nothing after this season is over. To tell the truth, I'd finally have some respect for him if he pulled that move.

Everything is lining up for the Patriots to beat the Giants severely, a perfect storm, as Bill Simmons put it. The layoff before the Super Bowl tends to favor the favorite. They've already beaten the Giants in the Meadowlands in December, so it should be a cake walk in Arizona.

Even better, this 19-0 season will have been achieved at a negligible cost. After all, it's only the collective soul of the New England Patriots that purchased this historic season. In the article linked above, Simmons referenced the book Blueprint, which documented the process in which Belichick, Kraft and Paoli built the three time champions. If the author of that book wants to chronicle this team, perhaps he could title the work: How to Go From David to Goliath in Seven Years.

Simmons compared a potential Green Bay vs. New England Super Bowl to the 1980 Olympic hockey game between the US and the USSR, in the sense that the entire country would be behind Favre in the same way that the Miracle on Ice game galvanized the nation back in the day. It is an interesting analogy, but I think this Giants team is better suited to the part.

Nobody went into the Lake Placid games thinking Team USA could beat the Russians, except Team USA. The game wasn't even on live TV. It was only as the game got going that people realized they were watching something historic, memorable and pretty damn amazing. It's only with 20-20 hindsight that people think that the Miracle on Ice game grasped American hearts and minds and it became a big deal. And deservedly so, it was an epic win for an underdog.

In the movie Patton, right as the German tanks are starting to make their breakthroughs in the Ardennes in the winter of 1944, the general says something very memorable. Patton says: There's absolutely no reason for us to assume. . .that the Germans are mounting a major offensive. The weather is awful and their supplies are low. The Germans haven't mounted a winter attack since Frederick the Great. Therefore I believe that's exactly what they're going to do.

Now I'm not saying the Giants can win. I'm not saying they're going to win. I'm not saying that even if they were allowed to play 14 on 11, any team could stop the Patriots from fulfilling destiny and going 19-0 or even 38-0. It's just one more thing that I want to have out there, along with what I wrote Tuesday last, on the off chance that in this historic season the one mark Tom Brady fails to achieve is that of becoming the first absolute douche to quarterback a team to four Super Bowl wins.

Speaking of QBs who won four Super Bowls, not too long ago, I caught Failure to Launch on cable. And it wasn't very good, even for that dismal genre. But I watched the whole damn thing because Terry Bradshaw stole the show. He was great. I really believe that he should have won an Oscar for that. Too bad the Oscars have to go to whatever films "challenge the intellect" or justify the politics of the populist view when there isn't a clear cut great movie like The Godfather or Gladiator out there.

Tonight marks the 200th post in the history of Sedition In Red Sox Nation. Truly, it was a fitting occasion with Roger Clemens pitching against Josh Beckett in Yankee Stadium on national television. With an atmosphere like that, you just had to know that something verging on the miraculous would take place. And it did. No matter what Red Sox fans will believe, it wasn't a humdrum miracle, like the team losing to the Yankees for the second time in two days.

I don't mean something as trivial as Clemens taking a no hit bid into the sixth. With four walks and a hit bats-person (I'm not convinced that Pedroia is a man), a little bit of the bloom slides off that particular lily. And even though the David Ortiz upper deck shot to the shallowest part of the yard which ended the no-hitter and provided a fit foil to set against the Reggie Jackson three homer performance in Game 6 of the 77 World Series celebrated in the finale of the Bronx is Burning, that was not the miracle.

The miracle came in that very same inning, when there was a man on base and the immortal JD Drew stood at the plate. Even though no one believed that the most disappointing $14 million man could hit an aging legend like Clemens with a man on base, Drew got a base hit. True, he didn't drive in the runner, but he took a step in a positive direction. After all, the Dr. Leo Marvin program in the cinematic tour de force What About Bob? was called baby steps, not giant adult strides.

This was an important base hit for JD. If he didn't get that hit, could you imagine how badly the Yankees own resident big ticket outfield disappointment would have shown up his former team over these two games? You might remember that guy, he used to play for the Sox, wear number 18 and go by the name of Johnny Damon. He might be dropping the ball as far as big picture production goes, but he now has a homer and 4 RBI against the team that wouldn't pay him $52 million over four years, but threw a $70 million chunk into procuring the "services" JD Drew until 2011. And the Yankees have managed to win 14 of the 16 games in which Damon has played in left field of late.

One thing should be abundantly clear following tonight's pitching performance. Josh Beckett should win the AL Cy Young, the NL Cy Young and whatever awards correspond to the Cy Young for AAA, AA, A and winter ball. And he probably would have salted away the corresponding pitching award for the Japanese league had he only allowed 11 hits tonight. Even that home run for A Rod should barely count against him, as it was a line shot to the opposite field and barely went out of the yard.

In fact, I think we ought to be fair to Beckett and go ahead and chalk this one up as a win anyway. After all, the Yankees left 7 men on base, including six in scoring position against him tonight. And they only had 13 hits in 6 and 2/3 innings. That's almost as good as a shutout, at least in the mind of the average Red Sox fan. Just because he didn't win the game doesn't mean it should affect his statistics adversely.

There is a school of thought that a manager probably should have taken his starter out after 100 plus pitches over six innings and a dozen hits. Of course, some might think Francona is trying to rest his bullpen after that taxing series with the White Sox this past weekend and an off day on Monday. Then again, perhaps it is unfair to blame Francona for his decisions. He may have been bored into catatonia by this piece in which Dan Shaughnessy managed to miss the point to a degree I would not have believed possible, even for an epic misser of points like the CHB.

I think Francona might be dumb enough to think that Shaughnessy was right. But I think even a mind as sharp as Tito's could have been dulled by the impressive array of bad puns, bad jokes and bad logic that made up this farce of a column. One day, a courageous editor might want to whisper to Dan Shaughnessy that whatever he is with ceased to be it sometime in the waning days of Ty Cobb's career. Just because you are dimly aware of recent developments in popular culture like the Bronx is Burning and Superbad, doesn't mean you sound cool or clever when you try to throw them in to spice up a vanilla piece.

A more intelligent and perceptive writer might have drawn from a classic film like Patton, which features an excellent scene in which George C. Scott as the great general enumerates the myriad of woes besetting the German army right before they launch the offensive known to history as the Battle of the Bulge. The weather is terrible, the supplies and morale on the German side are virtually non-existent and on top of everything, the Germans had not mounted a major winter attack since the time of Frederick the Great (he ruled from 1740-1786, for those who aren't history buffs). For all those reasons, it looked like the Germans wouldn't attack, and it was for all those reasons Patton knew that attack was imminent. That would have really classed up a comparison between this Yankee team and the Red Sox in 2004.

Unfortunately, the Yankee bullpen was something of a cloud on this victory. Kyle Farnsworth reminded every one why he's been given so many chances for so many teams. He had the velocity that has kept him in the majors, and the inconsistency that has kept his bags packed. That two run homer Farnsworth surrendered to Youkilis really hurt. Thankfully, JD Drew was able to put a silver lining on that dark cloud by striking out feebly.

Unfortunately, I subscribe to the theory first advanced by Jerry Garcia, that every silver lining has a touch of grey. That touch of grey: Mariano Rivera got his second save of the series. It's always good to see Rivera pitch more like he did in his prime than he pitched at the beginning of the year. But the thing about that is, Rivera is not a young man any more. So there is not a very high likelihood of him being available should it get to that point in tomorrow night's game. Of course, Joba Chamberlain will be available tomorrow, and who knows what might happen. But it would have been nice to see the Yankees have a shot at a sweep and have all of their weapons ready to go against the hated enemy.

From the "there's a method to my madness" category, it might not have made for a well structured post with the two Drew criticisms sandwiched around the long Frederick the Great/Patton digression. In my defense, I hoped to mitigate the bad karma and reverse jinx potential I have bestowed on JD Drew. I remember that game where he hit two three run homers against the Diamondbacks not too long after one of my long diatribes against him. Nor have I forgotten the hot start to this season he put up after I spent the better part of the offseason railing against his signing, even though that seems like a more distant memory than the Prussian monarch I referenced tonight.

PS - I don't know if you recall the post in which JD Durbin was lampooned as tool of the week (back when there was a shot that I might actually have the discipline to post a tool of the week segment on a weekly basis). Since that time, the tool of the week segment has been modified to a tool of note segment. And more astonishing, the tool JD Durbin has pitched effectively for the Philadelphia Phillies. Kudos to Theo and the mental giants on Yawkey Way for letting him go for absolutely nothing. At least they managed to dream up Sox Appeal. Nothing like exploiting the inability of modern men and women to connect on an interpersonal level to perpetuate the subspecies of troglodytes who root for the Red Sox to undermine our societ. But I digress far to far, and I must sign off for the night.

You will have to bear with me tonight as I write this post. I am so torn by emotion that I am having trouble resisting the impulse to throw my monitor off of each and every wall in my apartment. The particular emotions which are tearing apart the fabric of my universe are rage and disappointment. And I am having trouble finding out who is responsible for these conflicting emotions.

The most obvious target is Dwayne Wade. But there are others who are very nearly as responsible for what just might be the final nail in the coffin of civilization as we know it. The NBA bears responsibility for allowing Wade to talk about things he cannot know. The management of the Miami Heat also bear responsibility for not silencing their star. And all right thinking Americans bear some of the burden for allowing this greatest of travesties to take place.

In case you haven't heard, Dwayne Wade dared question the leadership qualities of the single greatest basketball player in recorded history. In case you might not be as well educated about the NBA as you should be, the best thing that ever happened to basketball is Dirk Nowitzki. And he must never be questioned. Ever. Unless of course you want to make the most powerful of enemies.

Mark Cuban laid what would be the smackdown on Mr. Wade, provided of course that a jock sniff and a fraud could lay down the smackdown on anyone. Of course, one would expect this from the guy who owns the team for which Nowitzki plays. And one would expect it to be as eloquent as all get out considering its author once wrote an impressive evaluation of a recent cinematic classic (believe it or not, he called Happy Gilmore a classic).

Among the many problems with Cuban's defense of his player is the fact that he dismissed Wade's criticism first and foremost because Wade's commercials are boring. Outside of the incredibly, unfathomably, indescribably brilliant ads that feature the PC vs. Mac debate, how many TV commercials aren't boring? I must say that those PC vs. Mac ads are so awesome that I hereby volunteer my services as a free-range organ bank on the off chance that Steve Jobs should ever need a transplant. A man that wonderful and with that much to offer mankind must live forever, and the rest of my life is small price to pay as means to that end.

Of course there is no way that Wade could know Dirk's leadership skills. It's not as though Wade took over the series himself and brought the ring to Miami. To think that Wade did more to win the championship than Dirk did would mean you would have to believe that Wade scored nearly 60 points more than Dirk over the last four games of the series. Oh, wait...

I have tried to be one of the people who doesn't link to his own past posts during the history of this blog. Tonight, I have to link to this post from two days after the Mavs lost the finals. It has a few of my favorite elements in it. For instance, there is the Orwell quote. I am also partial to my little pun on the Nowitzness shirts that Dallas fans wore to answer the Witness ad campaigns featuring D-Wade. I still love that Nowitzless line, and it's funny because it's true.

In Life, The Universe and Everything, Douglas Adams describes the home world of the mattresses. The mattresses live in swamps and flollop around. According to the author, flollop is not a common word because it's a thing only live mattresses can do. Of course, Douglas Adams probably never saw Mark Cuban, as he passed away in May of 2001 (Adams, unfortunately, Cuban will be with us always). Even though I don't know what flollop means, I imagine it's the only word that can concisely describe Cuban's petulant 4 year old act as he sits in the stands.

Perhaps I'm being unfair to Cuban. Maybe he has virtues that I have missed in the infrequent attacks on him in this space. He has done great things to benefit the families of those who have lost their lives in America's military operations overseas. But in my defense, he is also a douche and I hate him.

But more on Nowitzki. He is one of the best players in the NBA and a measure of my sarcasm is probably undeserved. He did score 29 points in the deciding game of the 2006 Finals. He is an excellent player, until the final quarter of the biggest games. He went 0 for the field in the fourth quarter as Miami closed out the series. He passed up an open look to pass to Erik Dampier in the last minute. And most damning, in my view, Jason Terry took the final shot for a Mavericks team down by 3 in the decisive game of an NBA finals.

Imagine this as a scenario. It's the mid-1980s. The Celtics are in a series deciding game. Replace Dirk in the preceding paragraph with Larry Bird. Could you imagine Bird allowing that sequence to occur? Wade had every right to call out the most overrated German athlete since those clowns that Jesse Owens dusted in the Berlin Olympics of 1936. There is no such thing as an almost champion, and second place is a fancy word for king of the losers. Nowitzki didn't play badly, but when a Gatorade container feels your wrath more than the opponent in the NBA Finals, maybe you do need to work a little on the leadership skills.

I did enjoy Mark Cuban's subtle dig at the NBA officials and commissioner, hinting that he would be fined again if he mentioned the secret of Wade's success in the finals and saying that he loved watching him shoot free throws. Mark Cuban would do well to remember the Boy Who Cried Wolf, or at least take an oral tradition class. Then maybe he'd stop whining about the officiating after every game, or at least point out one instance where Dallas benefited from a missed call (I pointed one out in last years' playoffs and I'd link to it if I hadn't already linked to myself tonight).

I don't feel like so much of a dork bringing up fables and oral tradition, since Cuban questioned whether D Wade had taken business classes at Marquette. Of course, I should have realized that the business schools are the new cradles of leadership. After all, look at how the courageous MBAs contributed to the great deeds of Enron and TYCO. And we all know that Patton attributed his ability to inspire troops to feats of greatness to the business seminars he took at the academy.

Running a crap corporation and tricking Yahoo into buying it doesn't qualify you to speak out on leadership. Carrying a basketball team to a title probably doesn't, either, but it's still better than the former. Mark Cuban should remember the one thing that separated broadcast.com from the rest of the dot com busts was good timing. And he should remember to shut his face once in a while, and if it's not too much trouble, any time he feels up to it, he can drop dead.

That final sentiment might be a little harsh, but Cuban reminds me of Ethel Merman's character from it's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. The film happened to be on this afternoon, during the 31 Days of Oscar on Turner Classic Movies (which almost makes me forget the NFL season is over when they show some of the greatest movies of all time). And I love the scene where Buddy Hackett suggests that Ethel Merman drop dead.