The pain of Patriots’ loss a test of our resilience

Don’t be sorry it’s over; just be glad it happened.

Isn’t that how the adage goes?

Well, that’s fine in most of life where harboring re- sentments can be destructive because they destroy the containers they’re in, remember?

That’s something most of us were taught somewhere along the way and time has only reaffirmed it, except when your allworld quarterback is stripsacked just as he’s about to author another page of football lore with a miraculous lob to his all-world tight end in the final minutes of a title game.

The adage doesn’t help much then, does it?

It does nothing to lessen the sting of disappointment because disasters like this are supposed to happen to someone else’s team, like the Seahawks, or Falcons, or Steelers or Jaguars, aren’t they?

They’re the pawns, we’re the kings, and that’s just the way it is.

Success looks great on us!

If you doubt it, ask us. We’ll be only too happy to enlighten you.

Truth be told, being a fan of the Patriots in this era of unprecedented prosperity has left us with an understandable sense of entitlement, even though history cautions against the temptation to be cocky.

Please. Tell it to the Marines.

So there you were, a week ago yesterday, just about to let loose and start gloating over Philadelphia’s agony, when, as the late, great Nat King Cole would have put it, “wham, bam, alakazam!” you found yourself emotionally ambushed by Brandon Graham’s dislodging of the ball and Derek Barnett’s recovery of it.

And just like that, as Willie Nelson would have noted, it was time to “turn out the lights, the party’s over; they say that all good things must end.”

But Brandon Graham?

Derek Barnett? Who are they?

We have Tom Brady, best quarterback ever! We have Bill Belichick, best coach ever! We have Rob Gronkowski, best tight end ever! We have Bob Kraft, best owner ever! And everyone knows we’re the best fans ever!

How could this crime against nature have happened?

We should still be cleaning up after the Duck Boats parade.

Instead there’s now a surliness in the air, an irritability, an impatience with anything having to do with matters other than football. Not even the marauding Bruins, resurgent Celtics or returning Red Sox can soften the pain we’re still experiencing.

That’s the price of being hooked on sports in a town like this.

But thankfully we’re also resilient.

Nelson nailed it, adding: “Call it a night, the party’s over, and tomorrow starts the same old thing again.”