Next year, Tom Brady will be a Bear. Or a Raider. Or a Cowboy. Or a Jet. Why not? He really should be a Jet, just once, to see what that’s like, weeping on your way to the huddle. Maybe Brady will be a Charger. Or a Maple Leaf. Maybe he’ll retire to play slo-pitch softball for Canyon Ranch. Or backpack around Mongolia with Andrew Luck, sitting by the campfire, roasting avocados, reading Knausgaard out loud to each other. Maybe Brady’ll write his own epic: My Struggle: The Grumpy Lobster Boat Captain and Me.
This always happens….