PatsBoy12
Pro Bowl Player
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2009
- Messages
- 16,502
- Reaction score
- 10,026
I want to start by saying that I love you almost as if I know you personally. I have been a fan since Day 1 and these past 15 seasons (almost 16) have been nothing short of storybook and the most amazing ride I could have asked for as a fan of sports. The memories you have given me and the stories I will tell, good and bad, will hopefully last the rest of my lifetime. I acknowledge and appreciate the other Patriot greats and underrated players (a list too long to include) that contributed to and helped sustain the excellence and winning tradition that has become synonymous with New England Patriots. But there is no denying that you have been the greatest among them, the star that has been the brightest and the most consistent. Your impact on the New England Patriots, the quarterback position and sports overall is undeniable. You put this team and the sport on your back and have carried it for the past 15 seasons. I am in awe of your accomplishments, professionalism and your passion for what you do. Greatness personified. So of course this means you get to ride off into the sunset, taking your rightful place at the pinnacle of your position and sport, proclaimed the greatest to ever do it, right?
I apologize to you, Tom. I apologize because a great tragedy and travesty has occurred. The final act to the storybook ending has taken a rocky and perilous turn. This is unfortunately the part of the Hero's Journey where he reaches his darkest place and is left for dead. This is the part where he must find a way to rise again. But this tragedy of epic proportions did not begin in January when the false story broke that 11 of 12 balls were severely under-inflated. Oh no! This tragedy began in 2001 when a little heralded quarterback out of Michigan took his first snap. It began when the doubters came out in full force after a little known rule called the Tuck Rule that spawned a dynasty was called and they said you were lucky. It began when you took an average Patriot team to the SB and orchestrated the first of what would become many last-second Super Bowl drives to win, beating the greatest offense ever at the time and collecting your first SB MVP award. You did it again two years later, thereby proving that the first one was no fluke. Still, there were grumblings that you were overrated and only a product of the system, the machine. But the momentum was gaining speed and it soon became undeniable that there was something more special brewing. You just weren't like the rest of them. You carried yourself differently. You walked differently. You talked differently. And you played differently. Better. Much better than the rest. Still, I heard and watched people pick the Forehead over you. They said he was better. They said you were only good because of the coach, even though your coordinators were being poached year after year. They said he was better, even though he had HOF receivers his whole career and you did not. You have been asked to throw to a converted running back (David Givens) and QB ( Julian Edelman). They said he was better, even though he played in a dome for the majority of his career and you have played in some of the harshest conditions we have seen. Meanwhile, you shrugged it off of your massive shoulders and just kept amassing victories, raising your level of play to match the magnitude of the game. You kept reaching the pinnacle.
Little did I know that the rainy days would become a tropical storm in 2007 when, on the eve of your greatest statistical season and one of the greatest statistical performances in the history of the sport, you would be marred a cheater by your peers when a coach with an ax to grind outed the organization for doing something other teams were doing and spawning the now household term Spygate. The doubters rejoiced. They had something of an explanation for the winning. A little-known knucklehead commissioner and his cohorts at various levels in the media (ESPN, NFLN, etc.) started to masterfully paint the picture for and shape public perception that this is the only way you could win. It was not because you worked harder than everyone else. It was not because you pushed your teammates and challenged your coaches to rise to the occasion. It was not because your passion for the game is unmatched. No, it was because you cheated. Once again, you had to shrug it off and, in almost Napoleonic fashion, orchestrated what should have been the perfect season; one ended by a catch that we may never see again and certainly not on the grandest stage. Still, 18-1 aint too shabby.
Four years later, with a season-ending injury that may have temporarily cast doubt on whether you could return to greatness on your resume, you put the then worst secondary in NFL history on your shoulders and limped into the Super Bowl. Once again, the Forehead's brother pulled one out of his you know what and we all had to keep the champagne on ice. All of a sudden you were incapable of winning the big one. You lost the magic. You became . . . mortal. The gap had shrunk and the window was closing. There came whispers of a player in decline that would eventually become roars. The doubters began to see hope for their favorite teams. The big, bad Patriots had lost the proverbial step. It's coach lost his fastball. Order was restored.
Then, without warning, 2014 began with a thud. After four games your team was 2-2. You were finished. Again, the world stood and let out a collective cheer. The demise of New England and, more importantly, the cheater quarterback was upon us. The reign had come to an end. The mastermind had no answers. The G.O.A.T. had no desire to play for the team or the coaches. There were even fans (YUP, FANS) advocating a trade. Then came the thunderous rallying cry in the form of a complete annihilation of the unsuspecting Bengals that started an unstoppable force to Glendale. You brought the Patriots another Lombardi in the twilight of your career to cement yourself as the greatest to ever do it. Right? But alas, the doubters would not go quietly. Those that could not beat you on the field had to find another way. Insert a report of deflated footballs, a laughable independent investigation, a four-game suspension and everything else that has been the past five months and your very legacy is under fire. You are once again being labeled a cheater. Everything you have accomplished is being questioned. The pitchforks and torches are out in full force and again the demise of the Greatest is upon us. Your coach has been silent (not mad at that), your owner seemingly turned his back on you (there was a reason) and the world is trying to destroy your name.
Tom, I am sorry that a league that owes you so much has given you so little. I am sorry that there are those out there who would rather hate you than acknowledge and celebrate your excellence. I am sorry that there are those who seek to destroy what you earned. The NFL, its commissioner and constituents and everyone who considers himself (or her) a fan of the game owe you so much more. You do not deserve what is happening to you, even if you did give the order to let some air out of those footballs The game is so much bigger than that. You deserve so much more than this nonsense. Once again I say that you are everything the league should want the world to see. You are every good thing that makes football what it is to us. If ever the NFL adopts a silhouette of someone like the NBA, it should be yours. What more can you do for this league? What more can you do for the sport? I hope (but truly know deep down) that you will brush it off just one more time. Reach your rightful place at the top just one more time. You deserve it. You are a champion. You are the G.O.A.T. I appreciate you so much. The game will not be the same for me once you hang it up for good. This story is not done being written. Take me with you when you stand at the pinnacle again.
Yeah, you deserve so much more than this nonsense, Tom. Sorry to be so long-winded, but this is everything I have been feeling.
2015, WE ALL WE GOT!
I apologize to you, Tom. I apologize because a great tragedy and travesty has occurred. The final act to the storybook ending has taken a rocky and perilous turn. This is unfortunately the part of the Hero's Journey where he reaches his darkest place and is left for dead. This is the part where he must find a way to rise again. But this tragedy of epic proportions did not begin in January when the false story broke that 11 of 12 balls were severely under-inflated. Oh no! This tragedy began in 2001 when a little heralded quarterback out of Michigan took his first snap. It began when the doubters came out in full force after a little known rule called the Tuck Rule that spawned a dynasty was called and they said you were lucky. It began when you took an average Patriot team to the SB and orchestrated the first of what would become many last-second Super Bowl drives to win, beating the greatest offense ever at the time and collecting your first SB MVP award. You did it again two years later, thereby proving that the first one was no fluke. Still, there were grumblings that you were overrated and only a product of the system, the machine. But the momentum was gaining speed and it soon became undeniable that there was something more special brewing. You just weren't like the rest of them. You carried yourself differently. You walked differently. You talked differently. And you played differently. Better. Much better than the rest. Still, I heard and watched people pick the Forehead over you. They said he was better. They said you were only good because of the coach, even though your coordinators were being poached year after year. They said he was better, even though he had HOF receivers his whole career and you did not. You have been asked to throw to a converted running back (David Givens) and QB ( Julian Edelman). They said he was better, even though he played in a dome for the majority of his career and you have played in some of the harshest conditions we have seen. Meanwhile, you shrugged it off of your massive shoulders and just kept amassing victories, raising your level of play to match the magnitude of the game. You kept reaching the pinnacle.
Little did I know that the rainy days would become a tropical storm in 2007 when, on the eve of your greatest statistical season and one of the greatest statistical performances in the history of the sport, you would be marred a cheater by your peers when a coach with an ax to grind outed the organization for doing something other teams were doing and spawning the now household term Spygate. The doubters rejoiced. They had something of an explanation for the winning. A little-known knucklehead commissioner and his cohorts at various levels in the media (ESPN, NFLN, etc.) started to masterfully paint the picture for and shape public perception that this is the only way you could win. It was not because you worked harder than everyone else. It was not because you pushed your teammates and challenged your coaches to rise to the occasion. It was not because your passion for the game is unmatched. No, it was because you cheated. Once again, you had to shrug it off and, in almost Napoleonic fashion, orchestrated what should have been the perfect season; one ended by a catch that we may never see again and certainly not on the grandest stage. Still, 18-1 aint too shabby.
Four years later, with a season-ending injury that may have temporarily cast doubt on whether you could return to greatness on your resume, you put the then worst secondary in NFL history on your shoulders and limped into the Super Bowl. Once again, the Forehead's brother pulled one out of his you know what and we all had to keep the champagne on ice. All of a sudden you were incapable of winning the big one. You lost the magic. You became . . . mortal. The gap had shrunk and the window was closing. There came whispers of a player in decline that would eventually become roars. The doubters began to see hope for their favorite teams. The big, bad Patriots had lost the proverbial step. It's coach lost his fastball. Order was restored.
Then, without warning, 2014 began with a thud. After four games your team was 2-2. You were finished. Again, the world stood and let out a collective cheer. The demise of New England and, more importantly, the cheater quarterback was upon us. The reign had come to an end. The mastermind had no answers. The G.O.A.T. had no desire to play for the team or the coaches. There were even fans (YUP, FANS) advocating a trade. Then came the thunderous rallying cry in the form of a complete annihilation of the unsuspecting Bengals that started an unstoppable force to Glendale. You brought the Patriots another Lombardi in the twilight of your career to cement yourself as the greatest to ever do it. Right? But alas, the doubters would not go quietly. Those that could not beat you on the field had to find another way. Insert a report of deflated footballs, a laughable independent investigation, a four-game suspension and everything else that has been the past five months and your very legacy is under fire. You are once again being labeled a cheater. Everything you have accomplished is being questioned. The pitchforks and torches are out in full force and again the demise of the Greatest is upon us. Your coach has been silent (not mad at that), your owner seemingly turned his back on you (there was a reason) and the world is trying to destroy your name.
Tom, I am sorry that a league that owes you so much has given you so little. I am sorry that there are those out there who would rather hate you than acknowledge and celebrate your excellence. I am sorry that there are those who seek to destroy what you earned. The NFL, its commissioner and constituents and everyone who considers himself (or her) a fan of the game owe you so much more. You do not deserve what is happening to you, even if you did give the order to let some air out of those footballs The game is so much bigger than that. You deserve so much more than this nonsense. Once again I say that you are everything the league should want the world to see. You are every good thing that makes football what it is to us. If ever the NFL adopts a silhouette of someone like the NBA, it should be yours. What more can you do for this league? What more can you do for the sport? I hope (but truly know deep down) that you will brush it off just one more time. Reach your rightful place at the top just one more time. You deserve it. You are a champion. You are the G.O.A.T. I appreciate you so much. The game will not be the same for me once you hang it up for good. This story is not done being written. Take me with you when you stand at the pinnacle again.
Yeah, you deserve so much more than this nonsense, Tom. Sorry to be so long-winded, but this is everything I have been feeling.
2015, WE ALL WE GOT!
