It must be love, love, love.

…more musings from the Never Ending Story.

I once worked with a girl. She was a beautiful girl. Such a lovely personality. Every boy at work was putty in her hands. She had all the intangibles that you would ever need in a girl. During breaks, while going to get an ice cream, me and 3 other red-blooded males would often muse about how lovely she was. She was so lovely that this never looked to degenerate into the murky waters of faux ladishness grunting sex-speak. We never spoke of anything but our admiration for her beauty, her personality and her remarkable …well we couldn’t even put our finger on it.

One night, beers were flowing freely and we began to wax lyrical about how great she was. Upon realising how ridiculous this was, we began to try and think of a fault that she had. Initially, we couldn’t, until one of our friends pointed out that she had a moustache. Then one by one, we all admitted we had noticed it. It wasn’t a Burt Reynolds moustache but it was definitely noticeable, and we were all willing to look past it. We then began to talk about what else we would overlook about her, I think we got as far as questioning whether we’d overlook her being a post-op transsexual.

We had to admire her from afar, not that any of us were in any way cool enough to even entertain the idea of asking her out, but this lack of confidence was confirmed by the fact she had a boyfriend. The boyfriend, as if it was written in a bad teen comedy, was a tattooed a-hole. Nobody had a good word to say about him and to describe his personality as being as appealing, as a pane of glass would be a ridiculous compliment of which he would not be worthy.

A few years ago, I watched from afar this young kick returner called Wes Welker, he was small, just like the girl, he had all the intangibles that made him special, he had ability that was immeasurable. Just as my admiration went even further, he left his tattooed a-hole loser boyfriend, the Miami Dolphins. When he joined the Patriots I begin to think there was nothing more I could want in a player, he was an against all odds player, supposedly too small who had been picked up by the Patriots from the scrap heap. Me and my friends often sat and discussed how beautiful it was to watch him fight for yards after the catch against players twice his size, to watch him weave in and out of hapless defenders and to watch him to keep his eye on the ball despite the inevitability of near destruction coming from a hard hitting safety.

Then he took his helmet off and he had a silly moustache.

This was becoming a theme in my life; I was willing to overlook it because everything else was just so beautiful and perfect about him. He was the true hero of the Patriots season. He was the engine while Randy Moss was the smooth fancy exterior.

Then I looked at the bigger picture, and I’ve come to terms with my feelings about the Patriots season and this is my final word on the subject. Yes, spy-gate might be a moustache on the beautiful face of the New England Patriots organisation. But we cannot forget how beautiful the New England patriots are, what a perfect team with all the intangibles. In many ways they are even better than the aforementioned beautiful girl as when they got a tattooed loser boyfriend-Randy Moss, they made me fall in love with him as well. That has to count for something. It’s slow season in the NFL so I think you all need a bit more reminding of how beautiful the Patriots are, rather than hearing random draft rumours of which I have no sources.

I wish that was me straddling Wes Welker…