Most of the time, being a sports fan is about the foreseeable. Quite frankly, the majority of sporting events we watch have favorites, and usually those favorites win. Oh, sometimes they don’t, and we armchair prognosticators usually respond with a self-inflicted slap to the forehead and a cry of “how did I not see that coming?”

Usually, then, when we are surprised by a game’s outcome, it’s because we didn’t see some aspect that gave the underdog the edge. Or maybe it was just random chance — an uncharacteristically bad play from a normally consistent player or a strangely stellar game from a traditional nobody. Things like that catch us off guard because we’re creatures of habit, and we expect sports to be as well. We expect the player who hit .250 during the regular season to do the same in the World Series, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t turn in an MVP performance for seven games.

But sometimes, an upset goes so beautifully according to plan, it’s not that you didn’t see it coming, it’s just that you didn’t think you’d be so lucky to see it. That’s what Super Bowl XLII was for me, and I’m guessing millions of other Americans who watched the biggest game of the year expecting the expected — a Patriots win as the Giants drowned in a sea of points through the air, courtesy of Tom Brady and the unmatched assembly of weapons at his disposal.

But if you are a fan of football, you probably did think before the game that maybe there was a chance. Maybe, because the Giants pass rush was just that good and not even the great Tom Brady throws that well from his back. On the other end of the equation, there was little reason to believe it could happen, as the New England offensive line had given its signal caller plenty of time all season long.

But you just had to think... maybe. Maybe, if the Giants defense could get through that impenetrable wall that had surrounded New England’s golden boy all season and hassle him, the ball might never get to some of those dangerous men out wide. Maybe Randy Moss would even become frustrated and revert to his Raider ways as a non-factor. You didn’t think it was likely, but you probably saw the chance for exactly the kind of low scoring slugfest we actually did see.

So, if you’re like me, it wasn’t so much that what you saw on the field on Sunday surprised you, but that it was what you’d hoped for and rejected out of hand. The Patriots were just too good, and great teams don’t lose the Super Bowl — that’s the general rule which has only been proven wrong a handful of times. That’s why the Steelers dynasty in the ‘70s was perfect; as was the 49ers dynasty in the ‘80s and ‘90s and the Packers in the ‘60s. Typically, when great, established teams make it to the championship game, they just don’t lose.

And yet, this one did. Of course, as an amateur know-it-all, it’s my duty to tell you at this point (since it’s no longer blasphemous to criticize the “greatest team ever”) that the Pats were composed of just a truly great offense and pretty good defense all season long and that most of history’s truly amazing teams were more balanced than that. There were, perhaps, other warning signs, but ultimately the Giants proved to have the perfect counterparts to take on the Pats.

In the NFL game of rock-paper-scissors, the Pats were the ultimate pair of shears. Strong enough to overwhelm any arguments you could put down on paper that might suggest they’d lose, but occasionally they’d run into the NFL’s version of rock and have trouble. They did against the Jaguars stalwart front seven, but were ultimately too quick out wide. The Giants, another old-school, physical, bedrock team of the league, answered that quickness out wide with a devastating pass rush off the edge and blitzes up the middle. And that was enough.

So when the Giants toppled the Patriots on Sunday, it was a game that instantly entered the Pantheon of great sporting moments any of us will see in our lifetimes. Because it proved that, even if all the numbers and odds are against you, sometimes the stars can align the way you thought they just might.

And as for a world without another Boston championship this year? It’s a beautiful thing.