FOXBORO — Last night, the Patriots were reminded what 14-2 means this time of year. It doesn’t mean a thing.

It doesn’t entitle you to anything but the opportunity to play your playoff games at home. It doesn’t mean you’re guaranteed to win those games. It doesn’t mean there’s a spot reserved for you at Super Bowl LI, as so many around here think.

It doesn’t mean you show up and your opponent faints at the thought of your record or your jewelry collection. That’s the beauty of pro football. You have to prove who you are every week.

All the Patriots proved last night was they’re human. It means you can be 14-3 in an instant if you aren’t ready to play, and they weren’t in last night’s AFC divisional playoff game despite the final score.

It read 34-16, but do not be fooled by that. Certainly Bill Belichick wasn’t. He knows what last night was — a warning that who you think you are means nothing.

It certainly meant nothing to the Houston Texans, who were underdogs buried so deep before the game they were barking in Chinese. And yet they played with the ferocity of a pack of wild dogs until late in the fourth quarter, when everything fell apart because they simply weren’t good enough.

For most of the night, the Texans turned what was supposed to be a thrashing into a street fight. They drew plenty of blood until their $72 million quarterback did something that got him benched two weeks ago — misfire so badly it handed the Patriots a place in the AFC Championship Game that seemed in doubt far longer than anyone thought possible.

By the end, Brock Osweiler threw three deadly interceptions: Two of them that were far more the result of his ineptitude at passing a football than anything the Patriots defense did to produce them; and one by safety Devin McCourty that was a product of not only his athletic ability but also his study habits. McCourty read what was coming before Osweiler even knew what he was going to do, got the secondary into the right coverage when it was clear Duron Harmon was confused about the initial call, and jumped on a route he knew was designed to go to DeAndre Hopkins on third down.

It was a smart play well executed, but it was not reflective of the kind of game the Patriots played.

“We’re going to have to play better, coach better … or there won’t be much left in our season,” a disgusted Belichick said. “We didn’t play particularly well but we hung in there and made enough plays.

“We had too many balls on the ground. We were lucky we didn’t lose more than we did. . . . We couldn’t run it. We couldn’t pass it. They’re one of the best defenses in the league … but there were a lot of mistakes we had. We got to do better than that. If we don’t improve in those situations, it will probably be the last time we play.”

That was not a harsh assessment. It was an accurate one, one the Patriots will be reminded of all week. And rightfully so, because that kind of performance is normally fatal rather than just the flesh wound like last night.

The Texans scored 13 of their 16 points as a result of three Patriots turnovers, which is far more turnovers than you can normally survive in the playoffs because offenses like the Steelers turn them into touchdowns not field goals. But this was the Texans after all, so there was margin for error.

Good thing, because the Pats made plenty of them. Two interceptions thrown by Tom Brady, which equaled his season total, came as a result of both withering pressure in his face and sticky and often confusing coverage on the backend of the Texans defense.

One fumbled kickoff by Dion Lewis (who also scored three touchdowns, so don’t be too peeved at him), and a stupid penalty by Eric Rowe for pulling a Texan off a pile in front of an official, also helped Houston set up scores that kept a game that was supposed to be done by halftime close well into the fourth quarter.

They were the kind of mistakes the Patriots hadn’t made all year. They were the kind you usually don’t survive in January. The only reason they did was that Houston made plenty of its own.

The Texans dropped two touchdown passes, threw three interceptions, and blew coverage on those two long “prayers” the Pats completed. When backup safety Corey Moore got lost in space, they ended up with linebacker Benardrick McKinney in a mismatch trying to cover James White. The running back hauled in a 19-yard touchdown pass so far behind him that McKinney couldn’t have touched him with a telephone pole.

In some ways, however, the long struggle last night to reach the AFC title game for the sixth straight season was a blessing, because it was both a reminder and a warning. A reminder of how all your plans can go awry, and a warning that all your dreams can go up in smoke with one bad night of inattention, confusion and, yes, a touch of fear.

The Texans created all those feelings inside the heads and hearts of the Patriots before succumbing. They beat and battered and hammered all the haughtiness out of them. They lost because they weren’t good enough to win, not because the Patriots ran over them.

Nothing means anything this time of year except this game, on this day. Your resume doesn’t mean anything and neither do your Lombardi trophies. Those only collect dust, and if things don’t improve next Sunday, so will your team.

Play like this again and you won’t play twice more this season.

You’ll be like the Houston Texans. You’ll watch the Super Bowl at home.