#199 overall. The chubby college kid who posted one of the slowest 40 times from a QB in NFL Combine history. The wide-eyed rookie who looked Kraft dead in the eye and told him, “I’m the best decision this organization has ever made.” The man who’s gone on to prove every pundit, scout, and coach wrong and hang five Super Bowl banners in Gillette Stadium. The guy who will probably go down as the greatest team athlete of all-time.
Tom Brady’s career has been nothing short of a fairytale; it seems as though every time he was told no, Brady stood up and answered with an emphatic yes. After Bledsoe went down, Brady picked up the slack and helped orchestrate a Cinderella playoff run to clinch the Pats’ first world championship in franchise history (beating none other than The Greatest Show on Turf in SB 36). When Roger Goodell sat him down for four games as punishment for allegedly deflating footballs, Brady conducted arguably the greatest revenge tour in sports history en route to a Super Bowl victory. Oh, and that historic season was also capped off by the greatest comeback in NFL history, the erasure of a 25-point third quarter deficit in SB 51. Suffice to say Brady’s time in professional football has been a series of one magically dominant performance after the other.
When he first broke onto the scene, it was impossible not to love Tom Brady, the kid who idolized Joe Montana and beat all the odds to get to the League. And as his success grew, so did New England’s adulation for him. But the story hasn’t been the same in recent years; as his fame has spread, Brady’s underdog story has become less and less relatable. He’s a robot who says all the right things at press conferences and has formulated a brand around his perfect, pretty-boy image. His social media is flooded with ads for his book, commercials for Uggs, and his attempt at international expansion of the TB12 business. All of this was manageable and even understandable to the New England fanbase for a while; how could you blame a guy for becoming famous and reaping the benefits of being the greatest professional athlete of his time?
But then the Wickersham article broke; stories emerged of Brady whispering in Kraft’s ear, asking for the organization to move Jimmy Garoppolo because he was afraid of what Bill might do at the end of the season; Brady decided to miss part of OTAs and refused to say whether or not he’d be playing in 2018 after (allegedly) forcing Kraft to get rid of his successor. How could the guy who preached--and was the product of--hard work, the “earn your spot” mantra, and following the Patriot Way suddenly expect loyalty and favoritism from the New England franchise? Why was he over in Qatar, leaving Kraft and Belichick to “dangle in the wind” as Tony Massarotti described, while his teammates were running sprints and drills in preparation of the 2018 season?
Look, I’m a huge Tom Brady fan. Last year when Scott and I debated the Jimmy G trade, I stood on the side of Brady, advocating for maximizing the three to four years that I believed he had left as opposed to dealing him and moving forward with Garoppolo. But I can’t help but notice the hypocrisy that Brady has demonstrated in the past year or so. After setting an example of hard work and dedication for nearly two decades, Brady’s afraid of competition from his successor? He wants Kraft, the quintessential businessman, to put his own personal interests over those of the team? Seriously?
I’ll be the first to tell you that Tom Brady has been the most important aspect of the Patriots’ 21st century dominance, but I’m also not going to stick my head in the sand. Brady’s lack of commitment to the team and fear of being succeeded go against all the values he claims to hold so dear. For me, the last straw was holding out on the Pats after he forced them to move on from Jimmy, a double-whammy.
I know that many people will be upset by this article, claiming that I’m giving too much credence to an article that came from “one unnamed source,” or that Belichick is to blame too. But here’s how I see it: Tom is still the GOAT, but anyone who claims him to be the same likable underdog he was five years ago is telling a bald faced lie. He’s changed, and whether you believe the Wickersham piece or not, he’s not the same guy he was when he emerged into NFL relevance back in 2002. Whether or not you hold that against him is up to you, but I’m tired of his little act. Practice what you preach, Tom.
Comentarios