Some thoughts on Sunday’s Super Bowl:

A sentence is not a sentence, without punctuation. Perfection is not perfection, without a championship.

Yet excellence, by its very definition, requires imperfection, because the description relies upon comparison with, and the surpassing of, mediocre and nondescript competitors.

By this measure, the New England Patriots are the personification of excellence. They are not perfect.

But then again, nothing is. One can only come as close to perfection as possible. This is the Patriots.

This is a team, when even within the unforgiving grip of an unfathomable defeat, held their heads high. They will not let this season be defined by a single improbable stumble in the waning moments.

Neither should we, their devoted fans.

Since October, we have floated along inside an athletic Valhalla, and become intoxicated on the delicious ambrosia of potential perfection. The Red Sox were a luxurious appetizer, the Patriots the five-star main course, and now, the rejuvenated Celtics are providing the prospect of a sumptuous dessert.

OK, so dinner was a bit undercooked. Our bellies are still full, and the meal still legendaryand, just like everything in life, tomorrow will come, and with it another chance to win.

We know this indefatigable team accepts this challenge.

So we bid them a restful, relaxing off-season. They’ve done nothing but give us the greatest season of our lives.

(Seeing the replays of Tony Eason, during Sunday’s Super Bowl telecast, being again and again pulverized by Chicago’s Monsters of the Midway in 1986, should only drive home this point. With a sledgehammer.)

In emulation of the Patriot spirit, we also bid the New York Giants hearty congratulations. Their upset victory was amazing, as was their entire playoff run. They played a stunning game, and with a potent 12th man – their jubilant fans – on their side, they brought home the title in dramatic fashion.

And in doing so, gave New York fans a cherished victory. Good for them.

After eight years of Yankee implosions, and the sinking Knicks, we wondered when they would get tired of losing.

Because it’s great to win a championship. (The Patriots have won three of those, after all.)

But there’s something else all fans of all New England sports should value more than another trophy or title – the one thing that’s driven our fanhood, our identity and our madness for generationsuntil the recent successes:

A rival in the Big Apple.

It’s the dawn of a new era of chants, bumper stickers and sold-out games. Of T-shirts with crude slogans, off-color jokes and vigorous, idiosyncratic athletic debates.

Boston vs. New York is back, baby.

And we couldn’t be happier.