The game: Patriots at Texans
The beer: Riverwalk Black Ox Dunkel Lager
The result: Win, 25–22
The method: NFL Game Pass
The headline: “It’s no use! I can’t take no more abuse! I’m tired of fuckin’ lines! Uggghhh, I’m losin’ my mind!” – Black Flag, “I’ve Had It”

The commentary: Enough. By definition or not, this team is rebuilding. It is not designed to win this year. It is not well positioned to succeed next year either, unless Mac Jones is on the Justin Herbert track. Why? I blame Bill Belichick.

This is well beyond the Brady-versus-Belichick trope—we’re two seasons and two (four, technically) quarterbacks past that resolution. Watching the defense—Belichick’s defense!—get absolutely housed by one of the worst teams in the league (are we not there ourselves?) throughout the first half, particularly on third and fourth—fourth!—downs, I’d had it. I could take no more abuse. Devin McCourty is single-handedly killin’ all your (my) dreams.

“Toss-up win” to come against the Cowboys? Ha! The Jones Boys will have to self-destruct to produce that outcome. Don’t put it past them, but a rookie quarterback with limited downfield throwing strength (I still like Jones), surrounded by a wave of inconsistent runners and receivers, will have to play his best game yet to have a chance. Inconsistent because Belichick’s talent evaluation and roster management are toward the bottom of the league—for example, we’ve known since last season that Stephon Gilmore likely wouldn’t play this one without a contract extension. Once that and a spring- or summertime trade came off the table, before Gilmore formally (softly) held out with “injury” (good for him), it became a death march to the celebrated “third-round” compensatory pick which, when you think about it, is really a fourth-round pick. Except…

Except! Carolina calls with a sixth? That’s good value (puh-lease) and will save a few million on the cap that can now be spent on a variety of cast-off special-teamers. And since Belichick cannot draft, which even homer apologists—“Those fuckers are fools!”—have to admit after witnessing Sunday afternoon’s bullshit, Gilmore’s replacement is an undrafted JC Jackson who will probably get overpaid by the Browns next year. I see your two starting cornerbacks and raise you: nothing! There is no one on this team set to replace two starting cornerbacks. Suddenly Belichick is going to know how to draft one, never mind two, or else hit twice in free agency? “Look at that Richards–Jones–Dawson trifecta from 2016 to 2018. Look at it!” That’s what I’m saying!

Despite a sleeping ten-year-old upstairs, I shouted aloud at my television that I want Belichick nowhere near this rebuild for the next year or two. Coach Belichick? Maybe, though I’m losing hope given the number of mental errors rookies and veterans alike have made every single game. No, it’s time for Robert Kraft to make a major decision that involves something other than playing both sides of another league-versus-player dispute or getting away with exploitative handjobs in deep Trump country. I want a new GM and, therefore, a new coach. I want them to be different people. And I don’t want either to be named Belichick or McDaniels or, god forbid, Patricia (shudder). If not now, when? After Belichick blows two or three more (and better) batches of draft picks? Tom Brady is not walking through that door to single-handedly disguise mediocrity again. Change is now. Enough.

Up next: Lock up your sex-trafficked prostitutes when Bob and Jerry get together. Cheers!