Last time, everything was absolutely better. The last time the Patriots won the Super Bowl, it was the shock that kept the Big Easy rocking until sunrise. This time, it was the inevitability that had Houston buzzing for all of two hours.

Last time, it was the 11-5 Patriots against the “Greatest Show on Turf.” This time, it was the 14-game win streak against the newcomers.

Last time, Bill Belichick was busy winning his first title as a head coach. After this past weekend, people were getting ahead of themselves and earmarking him for the Hall of Fame.

Last time, Boston was turned upside down – bonfires were set, streetlights were mounted and there was general tomfoolery and fun for all. This time, James Grabowski, 21, of West Newbury, was taken to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center and pronounced dead a short time later.

Last time, the GSU was abuzz with excitement, over the potential for the first Boston championship since 1986. This time, the students at this school – who get about as excited for sports as a bald man at a Vidal Sassoon convention – acted like they just wanted the riot and not the win.

Most students told me they didn’t even care enough to find out who plays running back or wide receiver for the winning squad. They just wanted to turn over cars and see what would happen. The funniest part of it all – half of them stayed on the sidewalks and waited for other people to act.

“Yeah! Let’s go block the T,” a guy yelled at me. He, following the general course of action on the night, proceeded to sit in front of Marty’s Liquors while watching a bunch of newspapers burn.

“I couldn’t wait to party. The minute they won the last game, I was already getting ready for this,” slurred another BU student who refused to give his name or college.

Last time, Harvard Avenue was looking like Bourbon Street. This time, it looked like a bunch of BU students acting like the nearest Gucci store had closed. The students who claimed to love this team and wanted to party until dawn were in their cozy apartments watching the gathering outside.

Last time, the party was unexpected and wonderful. This time, the theory from most people I spoke to around campus was, “Let’s get ready to pahhty” (understand this was still five days prior to kickoff).

For a fan of the team, last time was the shock of a lifetime – finally getting to feel a home team championship. This year was more about survival on the field and disappointment here.

Last time, I wasn’t even able to drink legally. This time, I just couldn’t do it – my nerves made me shake so bad I nearly dropped my beer to the floor about 22 times. A John Fox-coached team, very similar to the 2001 Patriots, playing with a quarterback who had suddenly decided to channel Joe Montana? I nearly created small puddles around my ankles I was so frightened.

Last time, Patriot fans were willing to give up their next of kin for a chance to be in New Orleans. This time, people were reluctant to part with even money for Houston (you think it’s because it was in Houston?).

Last time, we had the “Tuck Rule” with the Patriots’ favorite referee, Ed Hochuli. This time, we had the mysterious third quarter fumble turned incomplete pass (a certain touchdown for the men in red, white and blue) courtesy of (who else?) Ed Hochuli.

Last time, we did not need to worry about Mike Martz and his stubborn brand of coaching. This time, the Panthers and John Fox had us scared straight.

There was consistency between the championships, but very little.

There was the Tom Brady to the always-reliable Troy Brown connection on both winning drives. Each of those drives was punctuated by an Adam Vinatieri field goal to bring home the Lombardi trophy. That was where the similarities ended.

Two years ago, BU hockey was on the verge of making its eighth straight Beanpot final. The Icedogs would go on to burn Boston College and then Northeastern to secure the tournament. This time, we’re in final No. 10 in a row – although now we can only hope BC doesn’t turn us into six feet of lumps.

Last time, I was proud to be here. Proud to be part of a student body that could enjoy and celebrate a championship in a city that desperately needed one. Proud that my fellow students didn’t feel the need to hurt other students in the name of “team support.” I was proud to be one of the revelers at the corner of Commonwealth and Harvard.

Last time, the only disappointment was that the party didn’t last until sunrise.

This time, other than the game, everything was disappointing.