With the Fenway in total lockdown — we're talking no parking and cops and barricades with closed-off access to side streets all along Boylston — it was an eerily quiet night last night.  No cries in the night, no rending of garments, no cars overturned and set ablaze. 

I spoke to a BU cop this morning at Billy's on Berkeley, and he said there were incidents in Amherst, though.  And sure enough, according to the AP, there were several arrests on the UMass campus after the game.

“It was a loud crowd and there were fights breaking out in pockets,” [UMass spokesman Ed] Blaguszewski said.

Marissa Faldasz, a junior whose dorm room looks out over where students gathered, said they were chanting “U.S.A., U.S.A.,” and throwing beer cans and toilet paper rolls.

“As soon as the game ended, a bunch of students came running from all across the campus,” she said.

Video she took from her fourth-floor room showed smoke and flashes and students yelling, then much of the crowd running away as police on horseback approached. Police officers wrestled at least one student to the ground. She said there was a similar incident after Osama bin Laden was killed last year.

Sorry to have missed it.

Boyfriend and I caught the first quarter of the game at Citizen's Pub on Boylston, which was refreshingly deserted on account of the lockdown.  I actually haven't seen it that deserted since, well, Sunday. 

Citizens does what we have dubbed the Disney Brunch on Sundays, where they play only hits from Disney's Aladdin and Momma Mia!, an interesting twist for a Brown Bar with beardy bartenders that specializes in whole suckling pig roasts.  For some reason tossing back bourbon and dining on braised pulled pork, slow poached eggs, pork fat hollandaise and brioche to a bartender sing-along version of "Dancing Queen" just hasn't caught on. Go figure.

As for the game — Citizens only has two TVs, which is another plus.  Even so I could tell from the get-go it did not look good.  First of all, the Pats need to get rid of the shiny leggings.  The Giants, who were not in shiny pants, just looked hotter in theirs.  And when you're dealing with a hostile crowd, why would you egg them on by wearing shiny pants?  Does anyone like a man in shiny pants?  I mean, what is this, Dancing With the Stars?  Why not feather boas and faux fur capes, too?  Seriously, why not just go the full Elton John on their asses?

We left the bar with the Giants at 9 and the Pats at 3, and I could already smell defeat.  The streets were deserted.  The Fenway was like what I'd imagine one of Newt's moon colonies to be like.  It was all very Space: 1999. 

We'd been thinking of a movie to pass the time, and decided if we were going to be dealing with shame we might as well get some full-frontal nudity along with it.  As luck would have it Steve McQueen's Shame with Michael Fassbender was still playing at the Somerville Theater in Davis, so we headed over there.

Shame is a real movie.  It's like a movie movie, with acting and everything.  Not only do you get to see the sultry Michael Fassbender walk around with his ample junk flopping everywhere but you get to see the sultry Michael Fassbender walk around with his ample junk flopping everywhere .  Did I mention you get to see the sultry Michael Fassbender walk around with his ample junk flopping everywhere? 

There's not a whole lot of plot here, actually, but what there is forms an elegant loop that perfectly captures the plight of its amply drawn characters.  Director Steve McQueen has managed to craft a picture that is much greater than the sum of its parts, and its parts are, again, ample.  Especially Fassbender's.  His penis should win an Oscar.

We didn't know the outcome of the game when we left the theater, but the eerie quiet on the streets and the few downcast characters we saw shuffling about told us all we needed to know.  Boston is not subtle when it comes to its sports. 

As we maneuvered our way back home through the police roadblocks that sealed off all of Kenmore-Fenway to the rest of civilization I felt good about our choice of entertainment for the night.  Not to downplay the shame of a Super Bowl loss, but shame is always more satisfying when there's a little sex thrown in for good measure.