Middling Patriots seem to have lost their Way

It was winning that made this team special, not myth of New England’s exceptionalism

A few days ago, NBC analyst Cris Collinsworth cast an approving eye down on the New England bench, and spotted cornerback Aqib Talib.

Talib is a remarkable cover man. He also has a few rage issues.

In his rookie year with Tampa Bay, he beat up a teammate in the midst of a lecture designed to teach players how to handle their money. A couple of years later, he was charged with shooting at his sister’s boyfriend — the charge was later dropped. That has a familiar ring. In 2012, Talib was caught popping Adderall, suspended by the league and traded to New England. You’d have to pretty thick not to catch the message being sent by that move — “last chance.” Talib isn’t that thick. There’s been no more trouble.

However, since this is New England, we can’t draw a line between self-interest and self-control. Here’s Collinsworth’s take on Talib: “When they come in, they play for the Patriots. Whatever their issues may have been before, they disappear.”

So Aqib Talib didn’t change Aqib Talib; the Patriot Way did. There are a lot of people involved in this continuum — the player, the team, the league, the rest of us.

This reasoning manages to insult them all.

When they were winning Super Bowls 10 years ago, New England players never shut up about “the Patriot Way” — shorthand for the idea of “team before self.”

The key to making the idea mythic was transforming men of inferior character into a very muscular Rotary Club.

That the Patriots apparently sheltered a PCP-addled serial killer has proved no obstacle to an idea this fixed.

This is not to suggest that New England should have known that Aaron Hernandez was dangerously warped. It is suggesting that, having missed that one, they might retire from the character-rehabilitation business.

There never was a Patriot Way in the sense that most people want there to be — some sort of moral exemplar bobbing around in the NFL’s sea of filth. The Patriots didn’t turn hearts to gold. They turned careers that way.

The secret — if you can call it that — was a successful tyrant (Bill Belichick) abetted by one of the great shield-carriers in league history (Tom Brady).

Winning made them seem special. They haven’t seemed special in a while, even before Hernandez’s fall.

This is now a pretty average team with a remarkably above-average pivot. On days when Brady doesn’t arrive ready to do miracles, New England looks terrible.

They played what might be the most boring athletic contest in human history against Cincinnati on Sunday afternoon (or maybe it just felt that way to the neutrals forced to sit through it).

It was 3-3 at the half, and a lot less exciting than that scoreline suggests. Brady always looks imperturbable. On Sunday, he looked somnambulant.

Nevertheless, he came prepped for his usual — wake up and win at the end. Just as he was about to begin his workday with two minutes left, it began pelting rain.

In the deluge, Brady couldn’t keep hold of the ball. With 30-odd yards to go, a pass squirted out of his hand and into the arms of the worst miscreant in the league, Bengals cornerback Adam Jones.

It ended a gruesome 13-6. The performance snaps Brady’s historic streak of 52 straight games with at least one touchdown pass. Foreshadowing?

When they were winning Super Bowls 10 years ago, New England players never shut up about “the Patriot Way”

The end also fits our purposes here. On the one side of that pass, the standard bearer of the Patriot Way. On the other, his polar opposite in the public imagination.

Let’s go down Jones’ rap sheet. Guns fired? Absolutely. Beat up a stripper? Check. Drugs? Natch. Guns fired at strip clubs over drugs? This works in all sorts of combos.

Jones may be the most pernicious offender in NFL history. He continues to stray from the true path with regularity — punching a woman in June; cited for disorderly conduct two weeks ago.

But this game has nothing to do with morality. They’ll let anybody play as long as he finds himself at liberty, and can perform on the day. That’s the NFL Way.

The reality of the Patriot Way is that it never existed. What does exist is the calming effect of any well-run, winning franchise.

This formula works best when it includes a player clever enough to understand that it isn’t doing right that counts, but knowing when to quit doing wrong.