When I first met my husband, on a blind date, he warned me that he was from Charelestown, Mass. and he was a fanatical NE Patriot fan.

What's a New England Patriot? I asked.

I was raised in Delaware. The closest NFL team was the Eagles but I had no allegiance. I was a free agent. I could support the Patriots.

In 14 years of marriage, I have learned a lot about the diehard Boston sports nut. We had our house  built on Lot #11, which was Drew Bledsoe's number at the time. Our living room is red, white and blue with framed sports pages from the Boston Globe. We have Patriot shoelaces, tissue boxes, toothbrushes, Christmas ornaments, flags, pillows, clothing. My husband won't let me move any furniture and he won't change his toothbrush during the season because it might jinx the team.

I drew the line when he wanted to name our daughter, now 12, Drewcilla. But our son, now 5, is named Brady. He has transferred the passion to our children. (Not that they have a choice until they turn 18.) When my kids wear Pats stuff to school on Jaguar days, I fear they will come home with black eyes. The first time, my daughter was 2 and she bit three kids at day care that day. 

Oh well. This is melting pot America right? My kids are learning they don't have to be like the crowd.

My husband remains astonished that the Patriots, known for being lousy for so many years, have become a much-hated dynasty. He watched their first games at Fenway Park with his father. He's been a fan his whole life and a change of address didn't change that.

A friend once told me, if he's that loyal to his team then he'll be that loyal to you. She's right.

Things could be worse. So, go Pats.

Let's get this season over with already. I want to rearrange some furniture.