Can the Pats overcome the Irish curse of Twomey-Meara?

Don’t blame me. I have done all I can. The Patriots are now on their own.

In order to assure that your New England Patriots will win the Super Bowl on Sunday, I have laid a bet on the hated New York Giants. It is called a reverse Irish mojo.

There are several family legends about our Irish curse. In Ballyvourney, the Twomeys believe it had something to do with a leprechaun in nearby Blarney. But the Mearas hold that it was based on a bad sheep deal in Ladyswell. Whatever the origin, the curse is strong.

I must have been 15 years old when I first saw the Red Sox win a game at Fenway Park. We used to take street cars to Kenmore Square and sit in the bleachers for 50 cents. We would go, like, once a week in the summer. Whenever I went, they would lose. Yes, they were lousy teams, but still. My sainted mother always asked me, “I don’t know why you go to those games if they always lose when you are there.”

It led to a deep-seated psychosis, an Irish curse marinated in decades of pathetic Red Sox teams. Now, I am convinced that if and when the game (Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, Boston College, Kentucky and Florida State) is on the line, “my” team will be much better off if I change the station, or at least hide under the covers. It is not manly or terribly attractive, I know.

During the Patriots-Ravens game, I kept the movie channel on standby and watched several chunks of “Around the World in 80 Days” when things got close. Don’t laugh. The more I watched David Niven, the better the Patriots did. Why do you think that Billy Cundiff field goal went astray? It was me and David Niven.

I am totally convinced that my Patriots are going to get pounded in the Super Bowl, by the very hated New York Giants. At this time of the year, I hate the Giants even more than the Yankees. Losing to the San Francisco 49ers would have been uncomfortable, but it would have been understandable. We could have lived with that. But the Giants managed to beat the 49ers in San Francisco to proceed to the Super Bowl. The Patriots could not have done that. Before that, the Giants beat the Green Bay Packers in Green Bay. I don’t believe the Patriots could have done that, either.

The Giants look bigger, faster, stronger. (I’m sorry).

On Sunday, I cannot decide to spend the evening hiding under my bed or going to a coward’s movie. There is too much dust under the bed, so it looks like the evening performance of “The Artist.”

To ease the pain, I have made a $50 bet with Gary Fowlie, the Richest Democrat in Maine. Fowlie predicted that the Patriots would “win easily, by at least 10 points.” So I wrangled three points out of him and bet on the Giants. It is the best chance the Patriots have. The Irish Twomey-Meara curse now will work against the Giants. If I lose, it will be the best $50 I ever spent.

If I win, the $50 will get me at least a loaf of bread and a quart of milk at Fowlie’s Overpriced Emporium.

I have done all I can. It’s up to Tom Brady now. If he lives.

You’re welcome.