As the curtain closed on the most dramatic denouement in Super Bowl history last Sunday, offering us so many indelible images—a tearful Tom Brady hoisting his fifth Vince Lombardi trophy, a defiant Bill Belichick pumping his fist skyward—I sunk back into my couch feeling oddly contrarian.
Rather than celebrate the many riveting plot points in the New England Patriots’ record-setting 25-point comeback victory—Julian Edelmann’s mind-boggling last-minute catch and Dont’a Hightower’s crushing fumble-forcing sack of Matt Ryan—or marvel at Belichick’s unflinching stewardship or Brady’s Shermanesque fourth-quarter march, I fixated on Atlanta’s fantastic failure.