Sea of joy

1,250,000 pour into Hub, hail Patriots

By Brian MacQuarrie and Michael Rosenwald, Globe Staff, 2/6/2002

fter keeping the champagne on ice for 16 long years, New England sports fans uncorked their passions on the frigid streets of downtown Boston yesterday in a red-white-and-blue explosion of championship joy. The good old city has never seen anything like it.

''This is huge! This is what this team deserves! This is why you root - for this,'' said Marc Ruggiero, 29, of South Boston.

From Copley Square to Government Center, a crowd that police estimated at 1.25 million - twice the population of Boston - cheered the Super Bowl champion New England Patriots. The full-throated carnival exuded the warmth of a bear hug despite the chill in the air.

''I love you guys! This is your trophy,'' Patriots safety Lawyer Milloy shouted to the sea of fans that overflowed and overwhelmed City Hall Plaza. ''We're number one!''

Everyone caught the fever. Silver-haired owner Robert Kraft toasted the team's first championship by dancing to hip-hop, Patriots cornerback Ty Law reenacted his electrifying interception return for a Super Bowl touchdown, and tight end Jermaine Wiggins of East Boston snatched a Patriots flag from a willing fan and climbed a pole to wave it from on high.

Only 10 minor arrests were reported on a bitterly cold day when the football faithful began arriving at the wind-swept plaza well before dawn. Since the Boston Celtics won their last basketball title in 1986, Boston fans have not had a professional sports championship to celebrate.

The psychic effects of that drought were evident everywhere yesterday. From the roof of the old Union Oyster House to a balcony at the Suffolk County Courthouse, to the bare limbs of trees overhanging Congress Street, Patriots fans grabbed every unoccupied sliver of real estate to glimpse their gridiron heroes.

''Hey, it's once in a lifetime,'' said Eric DeCicco, a 25-year-old Peabody man who claimed a front-row spot along the City Hall barricades at 3 a.m. DeCicco lost his job last week, he said, so he was spared the white lie of a ''sick'' call.

''That's a good thing, you know?'' DeCicco said of his new employment status. ''Things happen for a reason.''

The Patriots did not arrive at City Hall until 1:30 p.m., nearly an hour later than expected. Despite the crammed confines, despite the 25-degree temperature, the crowd remained upbeat and uplifted.

When the entourage pulled up, after being paraded down Boylston and Tremont streets, the plaza erupted in shouts and song as a snowstorm of red, white, and blue confetti fell on the fans. ''We are the champions! The best football team in the world,'' Kraft bellowed as he held aloft the silver Super Bowl trophy.

Jubilant players pointed at the crowd, thrusting their index fingers into the air, taking photographs and videotapes of the scene. Longtime Patriots radio announcer Gil Santos said he had never seen anything so impressive.

The giant crowd roared in exhilaration, and roared again as Law, wunderkind quarterback Tom Brady, and wide receiver Troy Brown reenacted Law's Super Bowl interception and touchdown scamper. The skit, followed by a gyrating ''end-zone dance,'' was hilarious and wonderful. All at once.

Almost as remarkable was the spontaneous dance party choreographed by Law, who grabbed the microphone and yelled, ''Hey DJ, can I get a little soul music?'' Once the music shifted into gear, Law called out Kraft, and Brady, for an impromptu display of their best dance moves. (Which, in Brady's case, were stiffer than a straight-arm to the face.)

''What's up, Boston? I love you baby!'' Brown shouted at the fans. ''We kept our mouths shut and got the job done when nobody gave us a chance in hell of doing it,'' Brown said, the throng hanging on his every word. ''We're looking forward to doing this again next year.''

Stoic coach Bill Belichick appeared swayed by the day's emotion, recalling how he tried to inspire the team during training camp with a film documentary of Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton's heroic tale of survival. Yesterday's teeth-chattering temperatures made the tale fitting, he said. ''It's been a long voyage and a long journey,'' Belichick said.

And Larry Izzo, the Patriots' special teams captain, showed he could relate to the anguish, hope, and stubborn loyalty that brand the city's professional sports fans.

''You're the only ones who thought we could win,'' Izzo said. And then, in a slogan bound to endear him to the city's long-suffering baseball fans, Izzo led a familiar chant designed to annoy New Yorkers. The echo was deafening.

Quarterback Drew Bledsoe and about half the team did not join the parade. But few people seemed to notice.

The crowd dwarfed the 250,000 fans who celebrated the Celtics' championship on City Hall Plaza in 1986. Pope John Paul II drew 400,000 people to Mass on Boston Common in 1979, and the Boston Pops played their bicentennial July Fourth concert before another 400,000 in 1976. The Tall Ships and Sail Boston events, held in 1980 and 1992, attracted more than 2 million spectators each to multi-day venues spread around the waterfront.

Yesterday's outpouring was focused and concentrated. Fans came from Roxbury, Duxbury, Stoughton, and Cambridge. They skipped school, appointments, work, and lunch. Some wore Patriots jerseys over their parkas, some wore jerseys without parkas, and some wore neither - just their cold skin painted blue and red.

They brought their dogs, some of them sporting jerseys. They brought signs, horns, helmets, and footballs. They talked on their cellphones and bragged about where they were. Ben Browne, a 12-year-old cornerback from Manchester-by-the-Sea, watched from the cozy confines of a Parker House window. The French test he missed will wait until today.

The faithful lined Boylston Street before 9 a.m., before dozens of motorcycle cops arrived. For the best views, they climbed trees, streamed them with toilet paper, and occasionally they slipped and fell. (Richard Serino, chief of the city's emergency medical services, said 75 people were treated for minor, weather-related injuries.)

They stood on top of overhangs. One man from below called up, ''Trade you a cup of coffee with some booze for your spot.'' Answer: ''No way, man.''

They told their bosses they were taking an early lunch. They told their parents they were skipping school. They didn't tell their parents they were skipping school but came anyway. One young girl held up a sign: ''My mom + dad let me stay home from school today - thanks PATS!''

They shouted, ''We shocked the world!''

Denise Ferreira and her 13-year-old nephew claimed the title of ''first arrived.'' They came to City Hall Plaza at 2:15 a.m. Wrapped in three layers of sweatshirts and a blanket, the two waited with quivering, red faces for 11 hours before the Patriots took the stage. Ferreira said she'd been ''waiting for this all my life.''

Some partygoers paid homage to the Patriots in unconventional ways. Chris Shaw had been shirtless for two hours at 11 a.m. The 18-year-old from Maynard said he decided the moment the Pats clinched the world championship to paint his body in red and blue from the waist up. Every few minutes, his friends hoisted his 5-foot-10-inch jiggling frame over their shoulders.

''This had to be done,'' Shaw yelled. ''I'm not even cold!''

By 10 a.m., revelers were scrambling to find a place to view the stage and the 15- by 10-foot screen in front of City Hall. Some climbed atop Haymarket station and surrounding buildings. Heads peeked out of parking garages by the FleetCenter and Sudbury Street. Someeven mounted scaffolding on renovation projects and ripped through the tarps that covered them.

An ocean of painted faces, American flags, and placards was planted in place by 11:30 a.m. Nobody was getting in or out of the body-to-body crowd that streamed from Faneuil Hall to City Hall Plaza. Chants of ''We will rock you!'' resonated from Quincy Market to Center Plaza.

Darin Boisvert, 36, of Fitchburg, held a sign that proclaimed: ''Will work for heat.''

But few people felt beaten by the cold this day. The glow from the city's first Super Bowl championship warmed everybody in sight. And although the calendar read February, the memory will read ''forever.''

David Arnold of the Globe Staff and Globe correspondent Jessica Van Sack contributed to this report. Michael Rosenwald can be reached by e-mail at mrosenwald@globe.com.