#isaacw

The crowd cheered raucously around Anders as he rolled his eyes, his face sinking into his fist. “Another one,” he mouthed silently to the bartender as Gronk reached the end zone for yet another reception. “You know, sometimes I really hate Boston,” the hockey player droned, shaking his head and glancing at his pal Isaac. “I swear, like half of the likely slightly homophobic dudes in this bar would blow Brady or Belichick if they asked. Probably marry them too,” he snorted, downing a quarter of his beer as soon as it arrived. “One season I’d just love for the Pats to absolutely fucking tank and just to see how many of these people still show up to cheer for them. I guarantee they’d turn on them in two seconds.”

Anders liked football a lot. He hated bandwaggoners. Coming from western Wisconsin, the Larssons were unfortunately in the minority of Minnesota sports fans in the area, yet still, they were loyal as heck, even though being a Vikings, Twins and Wild fan never paid off. So they idea of folks being fair weather jerks and only liking a team when they were successful, ticked him off immensely, and he perpetually viewed the city of Boston as a city of fair-weather Pats fans. 

Glancing back at Isaac, he soon realized that he had been ranting, probably loud enough to where everyone around could hear him. “Sorry, man. I know you don’t really care. I just really like football and hate Brady.”