I am trying to get some work done at the office and can't keep my mind of the imminent kickoff.
I am playing the
Crimson Tide speech in my head and it would go as follows:
We'll defer the opening kickoff and as the Jet's are driving on our Defense, I want BOB to pull the Offense aside and lay this on them:
Boys, there is trouble in Gillette. So they called us. And we're going out there and bringing the most lethal offensive machine ever devised. We're capable of launching more firepower than has ever been released in the history of football. For one purpose alone: To beat down those good-for-nothing Blowhards (expletives will be added).
Boys up front, you constitute the front line and the greatest line of defense. I expect and demand your very best. Anything less -- you should've played for those losers from New York. This might be our Mr. Kraft's team, but this is my offense. And all I ask is that you DO YOUR JOB. And if you can't, that strange sensation you'll be feeling in the seat of your pants will be my boot in your ass.
BOB: Tom?
TB: Yes, Sir!
BOB: You're aware of the name of this team, aren't you, Tom?
TB: VERY aware, Sir!
BOB: It bears a proud name doesn't it, Tom.
TB: VERY proud, Sir!
BOB: It represents fine people.
TB: VERY fine people, Sir!
BOB: Who live in fine, outstanding States.
TB: OUTSTANDING, Sir!
BOB: In the greatest country in the entire world.
TB: In the ENTIRE world, Sir!
BOB: And what is that name, Tom?
TB: THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS, Sir!
BOB: And what do we say?
TB: Go 'PATRIOTS'!
THE WHOLE OFFENSE: F U JETS!!
