National Football League

Patriots fans not given chance to riot

Published Feb. 6, 2012 12:00 a.m. ET

foxsports

The tornado was out there somewhere. It was coming. You could sense it, hiding somewhere like a monster in a kid’s bedroom closet.

You knew it was going to strike. But when? Where?

It is now a great American sport tradition, maybe a worldwide tradition. But in the US, it’s now Super Bowl, hot dogs, apple pie and, of course, the sports victory riot. Do you ever wonder how they get started? One drunk guy, maybe. Sure. But how do so many others get involved? How can groupthink be so effective and without concern of consequences?

Like a storm chaser, I went after the post-Super Bowl, New England Patriots-winning, Boston riot Sunday night, trying to find the perfect spot to find the genesis of one of these things and ask “Why?’’ Looking for the eye of the riot.

“Pray we will win,’’ the cab driver/riot chaser said. “Then, you will see the worst of us.’’

Well, it didn’t quite work out. The Patriots lost to the Giants 21-17, and there was no riot in Boston, unless you count the woman who chased after the guy down the sidewalk by Fenway Park, eventually punching him in the face and kicking him the groin before falling to the ground.

They did it in front of hundreds of cops.

The storm hit 100 miles away, at University of Massachusetts-Amherst, where riot police dispersed a few thousand students, some angry, most just milling around. Fourteen students were arrested, and it wasn’t a full-blown tornado so much as a severe thunderstorm.

Back in Boston, by the end of the night, hundreds, maybe thousands, of riot police sort of hung out with nothing to do, no one to club. Some of them stood in front of their motorcycles and posed for pictures with young, drunken women who were leaving bars in the Kenmore Square bar district by Fenway Park.

“He’s totally cool with it,’’ one woman slurred, after posing with riot cops 45 minutes after the game. “He’s taking pictures with everyone.’’

Police had taken definite measures in Boston to fight off a potential riot. In the streets, you could see it all during the night. It’s hard to say if they were successful, or if they just won out because Tom Brady’s Hail Mary fell to the ground.

On Thursday, Boston Police Commissioner Edward Davis held a press conference/warning to the city’s huge population of college students:

“Don't do the things that will get you into trouble," he said at City Hall.

He warned that surveillance cameras would be used and would help to identify people to be charged afterward. And by halftime Sunday, if you weren’t already at these bar districts, then you wouldn’t be allowed within blocks. The plan included having 2,000 police on the streets, mostly in bar areas near college campuses where sports riots and near-riots have happened during Boston’s recent championships. The Red Sox. The Bruins.

But also, police were worried about the kind of violence they had in Vancouver after the Stanley Cup.

For me, the storm-chase started shortly before the game. On the drive into the city, you saw signs that read, “Fans don’t let fans drive drunk.’’

By the start of the game, downtown Boston was a ghost town away from the bar districts. From the streets, even the bars near the Garden, home of the Celtics, appeared empty. But that was for show.

Over at Faneuil Hall, another district, it looked quiet, too.

But a closer look showed that The Tap and Hennessy’s and other bars actually had dark paper, or black baggies covering the windows. You couldn’t see in, which kept people from crowding on the sidewalks to look in. Police barricades were stacked in the middle of the street.

Inside The Tap, it was crowded, but in control.

“Not much here,’’ one fan said. “You want to go where the riots are going to be? Kenmore Square by the big Citgo sign.’’

On the way to Kenmore Square, it hit me that the cabbie didn’t have the game on the radio.

“I don’t want to listen,’’ he said. “I become out of control.’’

Enter GameOn!, next door to Fenway Park at halftime. Downstairs was an open nerve to football fandom, with at least 50 TVs, and everyone watching Madonna. With the noise and energy and colors, the place felt like the inside of a video game.

Over the PA, they announced that anyone leaving after the start of the third quarter would not be allowed back in the building. “Take your cigarette break now.’’

When the Patriots went up 17-9, a guy in a Patriots jersey by the big screen at the end of the bar went around high-fiving everyone, swinging hard. The feeling should come back in my hand any day.

Up 17-15, the place was still loud, but not rowdy. Maybe there wouldn’t be a riot?

“This is Boston,’’ a Massachusetts College of Pharmacy student said. “We’ll riot over anything.’’

Zack, another student, talked about his sick feeling last year when the Red Sox blew it on the last day. A few years ago, he watched the Red Sox win the World Series through a gas station window a few blocks away. Riot police had blocked off the area closer to Fenway.

A large bouncer walked over to me. “Déjà vu,’’ he said after another dropped pass. “This feels like the game we lost two years ago. Oh my god, they don’t want to win.’’

A minute left in the game, and the Patriots in big trouble, some drunk guy yelled at bouncer, “Dude, this guy won’t let me stand behind him.

If you don’t get him in line, I will. I WILL!’’

Fifty-seven seconds left, and the Patriots have one last chance.

“Ochocinco,’’ some guy said.

What?

“Ochocinco is going to catch the game-winning pass.’’

The guy talking had played arena football last year and still had hopes of playing in the NFL someday. He thought he would have had a chance a couple years ago, but “got in some trouble.’’

If they win, are you going to start the riot?

“I’ve already been recruited,’’ he said, laughing. “A couple of guys asked me if I’d help them flip over cop cars afterward.’’

There were no cars in the area. Police had told people to move them.

Besides, no one would have been dumb enough to park nearby.

They showed New York coach Tom Coughlin on TV and at least 200 people in the bar stepped toward the screen and flipped him off.

Emotion growing. You knew what would happen if they won. That tension would be released somehow. Or, maybe a riot is just part of the party.

It’s hard to tell how much is based on passion and how much on fun gone wild.

Instead, the Hail Mary fell, and, poof, emotion was drained.

Almost immediately, flashing lights went on in the bar, and a recording intoned that an emergency had been discovered. Everyone needed to calmly leave.

Is there really an emergency?

“No,’’ the guy working the door said. This was riot control.

Outside, people were leaving all the nearby bars at the same time, congregating a few blocks from the giant Citgo sign. Hundreds of riot cops made their presence felt. Most were on foot, carrying batons. Some were on horses, some on bikes. Ten on motorcyles drove up and parked between GameOn! and Cask’n Flagon. Ten more on motorcycles were under the Citgo sign.

A cleared-out store was filled with yellow-vested cops. The bars started tearing down the papers covering their windows, and the Super Patriots signs. Some guy screamed out the F-word, and a guy said, “Tell it to the guys with the batons.’’

There would be no riot. Not here. The tornado was itching to happen, but we had missed the eye of the storm. It was in Amherst.

“Maybe next year,’’ one guy said.

Maybe.