So, I’m obviously on this board because I’m a Brewers fan and Packers fan. Thusly, I’m a member in good standing of the Fraternal Order of Cardinal Haters. My father hates the Cardinals, as did his father before him, and so on and so forth. The Cardinals embody all that is soulless and wrong in an otherwise glorious sport, as they ceaselessly posture and preen about the right way to play, obnoxiously trumpet their past champions and accomplished players ad nauseam, and have a preternatural ability to squeeze every ounce of baseball ability out of an endless supply of minor league fodder so average in appearance that the incongruity can only be explained by some sort of Faustian bargain (leaving me to wonder when—for the love of all that is good in this world!—will that debt come due). Of course, I need not elaborate any further for you here. But, you see, in my 30+ years of conscious football fandom, I’ve never had to have a hate as strong as the one I hold for the St. Louis Baseball Cardinals. Sure, as a kid growing up in Bear country, I had my fair share of twerp friends and classmates who tried tweaking me about the Packers, but rare is the year when Favre or Rodgers did not absolutely beclown the Bears in at least one, if not two games, and the last laugh would be mine. So my distaste has instead ranged to various other organizations in a fleeting way, going from the Cowboys to the Niners to the Seahawks until I came to the conclusion that, of course, the Patriots are much akin to the Cardinals. Obnoxious coach and fans, media obsession, repeated success with an apparently lackluster roster of players, and so on. It fits my archetype for an object of hatred so easily that I rested on these assumptions for a long time without much thought—until now. The problem is, to put it plainly, the Patriots have entered a realm that now defies comparison. They are monolithic. As an organization, they are not so much king of the jungle as the meteor that wipes out the 31 dinosaurs of the NFL. This all makes them even easier to hate, of course. You root against them like one roots against the Yankees—but on steroids. They’re Thanos and the Evil Empire and John Calipari all mixed into one. But if they’ve graduated beyond the Cardinals comparison then that means the closest thing the NFL has to the Cardinals is...the Packers. They’re a Midwest team, occupying that small market/“flyover” territory, with a storied past, loads of championships; the team prides itself on its distinctively intelligent and passionate fan base with a supposed principled and virtuous way to build an organization and play the game the right way—or even “the Packer way.” They’re universally reviled by every other midwestern team, the fan bases of which insist that arrogance, luck, and cheating/bias of the officials pervade the whole edifice of the Packers. World championships: 13 (Cardinals: 11). Division championships since 1996: 11 (Cardinals: 11). And even when I consider how they win, just this past weekend, the Packers triumphed with precisely one superstar on the field and a bunch of virtual unknowns outside of committed fantasy players—quite a Cardinal-esque way to win. It pains me deeply to say this, but if I were a Vikings fan, or a Bears fan, or a Lions fan, I’d feel the same way about the Packers that any good Brewer fan feels about the Cardinals. And I don’t see any other way to reason myself out of this conclusion.