Okay, so I turned off the game and sent the boys to bed, so that I could watch my movie (Nights in Rodanthe--yes, it was good) before it got too far past my bedtime. After all, with 2:38 minutes left and a 13-point lead, and Tom Brady handling things, while Peyton and crew seemed to mangle key plays, I thought all would be well. And so did my boys. They marched off to bed in good faith.
However, I lost all credibility on the football front when my youngest brought in the morning paper and asked through a veil of confusion, "Who lost by one point last night? Was it the Colts?"
He was trying to sound hopeful.
I spun from my desk.
"One point! Did you say, one point! They had been leading by 13! With two minutes left to play!"
But I knew before I even snatched up the paper, deciphered the meaning behind the amazing photograph of Reggie Wayne's catch, that I should not have doubted Peyton. I knew he was capable of amazing come-backs such as this. After all, the announcer had reminded me so on their last failed drive before I clicked off the TV with confidence.
I won't doubt him again. Watching those two drives would have been fun. (Don't tell my sister. She's a true Patriot fan.) Me? I just hate missing out a good game. What was I thinking?
Sights are on the playoffs for sure.